Epilogue
EPILOGUE
GRIFFYN
I stand in my bedroom, the dim afternoon light filtering through the curtains. The weight of my earlier conversation with my brothers presses down on me, heavy and unrelenting. When I learned we had half-siblings, I wanted to ignore it, but the reality of what we were facing hit me hard when I searched the internet about our brothers. The revelation was a punch to the gut—I not only had brothers, I had a twin. Now Gage is in trouble, and I'm the only one who can save him. I don’t know if I’m ready for this, but I have no choice.
I grab my worn duffel bag from the closet and start packing. My movements are automatic, robotic. A few shirts, jeans, underwear, socks. I toss in my shaving kit and grab my satchel. While I won’t be teaching anytime soon, there is plenty of work I need to stay on top of. Calling the dean of my college was not a pleasant conversation. Trying to explain to my boss that I needed an emergency leave of absence because my long-lost brother is sick felt like a massive joke.
My hands move on their own, but my mind is elsewhere, racing with thoughts of Gage. A knock on the door jolts me from my thoughts. I sigh, irritated. I don’t have time for visitors. Especially not now.
I ignore the knock at first, hoping whoever it is will go away, but the knocking persists, more insistent this time. With a groan, I drop the shirt I’m holding and make my way to the door. I swing it open, ready to snap at whoever’s on the other side.
“Frankie,” I say, surprised. “What are you doing here?”
Frankie stands in the doorway, looking anxious. Her brown eyes are wide, her hands twisting nervously. As much as I want to let her in, right now, I can’t deal with her. I have too much on my plate.
“Griffyn, I need to talk to you,” she says, her voice trembling slightly.
“I’m sorry, Frankie, but I don’t have time for this,” I say, trying to keep my tone even. “I’m in the middle of something important.”
“Please, just hear me out. It won’t take long,” she pleads, stepping forward.
I take a step back, holding up a hand to stop her.
“No, Frankie. Whatever it is, it can wait. I have to go.” I hate being such a dick, but I don’t have the bandwidth to deal with her right now.
Her face falls, and for a moment, I feel a pang of guilt, but I push it aside. I can’t afford distractions right now. I turn away from her and head toward my car, hoping she’ll take the hint and leave, but I hear her footsteps following me.
“I really need to tell you something,” she insists.
I whirl around, frustration boiling over. “Frankie,” I know my next words are going to cut her, but my mind is on my family right now. “What happened between us was a mistake—it can’t happen again. You need to leave. I’ve got somewhere more important to be instead of standing here listening to you.” She flinches at my harsh tone. I immediately regret it, but I don’t apologize. I can’t. I have to stay focused.
She stands there for a moment, looking hurt and uncertain. Then she turns and walks toward her car parked off to the side of my driveway. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
I throw my bag in the trunk and start toward the drier side. I look up to see Frankie standing close to my car, looking determined.
“Frankie, what are you doing?” I ask, exasperated.
“Please don’t do this, Griffyn. Give me five minutes.”
I want to pull her into my arms, but I know if I do, I won’t leave. I do the only thing I can think to push her away. “Go back to your dorm because right now I don’t care about,”—I wave my hand around in the air—“whatever this is. You can call Justin, my TA, and he can help you with class.”
Tears well in her eyes. “This isn’t about class.”
Sighing, I lean toward her and mutter the words I know will seal my fate with her, “Frankie… what we had was a fling—nothing more. A fling that could get us both in trouble, anyway. My family needs me, and you’re keeping me from them. Now, please move.”
Frankie steps back, her hands dropping to her sides, and I see the raw pain my words have caused. Tears storm down her face, each one a testament to the hurt I’ve inflicted. As I get in my car, her devastated expression sears into my mind. I want to grab her and tell her I’m sorry, but I can’t—not when my family needs me.
Just before I close the door, her voice, trembling and desperate, cuts through the air.
"I'm pregnant."