Chapter 5 Griffin Colson #2
I try to balance her in this moment, telling her she’s here, she’s alive, the worst is over.
When I’m done disinfecting and bandaging what needs to be covered, I lean back.
I don’t move away entirely. I let her lead—waiting for a cue, a sign, a dismissal.
Anything but this silence stretching between us like another wound that needs to be treated.
“Thank you.” She lifts the robe back over her shoulders. But she doesn’t turn around. It’s like she’s trying to get her emotions under control before she faces me again.
“It’s nothin’,” I mutter.
A lie again, tending to her felt like the single most important thing I’ve ever done. She eventually turns around and the pain in her eyes threatens to swallow me whole.
“You got somewhere safe to go?”
She shakes her head and sits back on the couch. She hisses and straightens back up when she makes contact with it. “No, only here. I don’t think they are coming back... tonight anyway.”
Everything she doesn’t say comes through loud and clear. I sure as fuck don’t like the implication that they plan to come back. The fact she expects them to sits heavy in my gut. I tap my thigh, once, twice.
“You’re right.” My tone flat. “They aren’t comin’ back tonight.
” I won’t let them. My unspoken vow hangs in the air like a livewire.
“But you shouldn’t be here either.” I fish my keys out of my pocket, pull one off my key ring and hold it out to her.
“Cabin in the mountains. Two hours east. Stocked fridge, reinforced doors. Stay as long as you need.”
“Oh, I’m not leaving.” She stands then hobbles around the couch. “I have a store to open in the morning.”
I resist the urge to reach out and stop her. She puts a kettle on, like she needs the ritual of it. I stand up and follow her. Keeping distance between us, I remind myself that she’s not ready for me to be in her space.
“The hell you are,” I growl. I’m not angry at her.
I’m angry at the idea of her walking back in there like nothing happened while those shitbags still breathe air.
“Open that shop tomorrow and you’re paintin’ a target on your back bigger than the damn sun.
” I run my fingers through my hair, trying to figure out a way to convince her.
“They think they own it now. You showin’ up like business as usual?
That’s seen as either surrender or rebellion.
And I’m not bettin’ they’ll assume it’s rebellion after tonight. ”
“I didn’t tell you what they think.” She raises a brow.
“Didn’t have to,” I track her movements with the focus of a hunter.
“Men like them? They don’t rough up shopkeepers just for fun.
They do it to stake claims. Force obedience.
” My thumb rubs absently over my knuckle where a small white scar remains after someone learned the hard way what happens when you cross me.
“Tea?”
I stare at her without blinking. It could be a peace offering or it could be her way of needing normalcy, like oxygen after drowning.
“Yeah.” I wouldn’t normally drink the stuff, coffee is more my style. But right now I’d drink dishwater if it meant keeping those ocean eyes on me longer than necessary.
“I also didn’t tell you what they were like.” She glances sidelong at me while she pours a cup, like she’s gathering I know something I’m not saying. She’s smart, observant.
“Only know what I can see.” A blind man could see the damage they did to her. I don’t try to touch her or bridge the space between us without her consent. I lean my hip against the kitchen island.
“But I’ve seen that kind of violence before. It only ends one way.” I hold her gaze, dark steel meets cool ocean waters, leaving no room for her to lie or pretend it isn’t that bad. “And I’m damn good at readin’ people.”
“So you’ve been reading me?”
She gives me the tea and I follow her into the living room, taking the seat across from her. She winces when she sits down and I have to concentrate on not crushing her little teacup.
“Hard not to read pain. And I’ve got eyes, woman. There’s nothin’ normal about you pretendin’ everything’s fine after what happened.”
She gives me a small nod, blowing on her tea before taking a sip.
Her hand steadier than it should be for someone who went through what she did.
Hell, I don’t know all the details but I’m pretty sure she should be in a hospital right now.
Not drinking chamomile tea on her fucking couch.
The wheels spin in her mind like she’s deciding what to tell me.
“You’re safer with me.” I don’t offer an apology. I suspect she’d reject that like it burns, but a quiet vow that’s somehow more honest than anything I’ve said to her so far. I won’t let them touch her again.
“With you?” she scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Again, I don’t know you. I appreciate your help with my back but you’re really not obligated to stay.”
Instead of taking the out she’s offering, I set my cup down and lean forward, elbows on my knees. “Obligated?” I snort. “No. This isn’t about obligation. I’m no bleedin’ heart. You got nothin’ I need. So why do you think I’m here?”
Another lie. I don't know what I need from her yet besides knowing she's safe. But I know she’s something that I can't walk away from.
“Hero complex?” She offers, shrugging her shoulders stiffly.
I’ve been called a lot of things in my thirty-eight years but never a damn hero. Something about the way she says it, like she knows it’s a joke, makes me want to prove her wrong. I lean back, crossing my arms.
“Hero’s a bit too good of a word, don’t ya think? Try pragmatist,” I shake my head. The corner of my mouth twitches up.
“And what is it that you’re being pragmatic about? The fact that if you stay and try to fight this you’re going to get us both killed?” She tilts her head.
That’s the first time she’s said something honest about the situation she’s found herself in. And holy shit, if it isn’t as bad as I thought it was. A mix of disgust and something more complex ripples through me. I rise to my feet and start pacing, needing to divert the energy somehow.
“You’re sayin’ you’d rather let them turn you into a doormat and a patsy, let them use you until you have nothin’ left to give, than leave?” My voice drops low, every word a challenge. “That’s the realistic choice here?”
“Sometimes you have to play along to get the leverage you need to make a stand. And there’s really no point in you uprooting your life and whatever it is that you do, just to make things harder for me.” She rubs her temples.
I’m impressed by her backbone after what she went through. The fact that she has any fire left at all is a testament to how strong this woman is. Something like pride swells up inside me, but I tamp it down. Her teacup sits forgotten next to mine. I stop pacing and stand across from her.
“Let me ask you somethin’,” I drawl. “You really think you’re gonna get leverage outta them? Playin’ along won’t buy you anything but a few more days of breathin’ before they do somethin’ worse.”
“Something worse than pinning me against a brick wall, while one of them shoves his dick inside me and the other two ask how tight I am?”
The mental image she paints makes me want to put my fist through someone’s face. I take two long strides to her. Every muscle in me taut, one step away from violence. Not against her, but the trash that thought they had a right to do that to her.
“And you’re alright with that?” I spit out. “You’re gonna just take it and wait for your chance at leverage? You think those fuckers won’t do it again the second they get a chance?”
“I gave them what they want.” She stiffens as she watches me. “They don’t have a reason to push it now.”
“You don’t know men like that.” I shake my head. “They don’t only take what they want and leave happy. They get greedy.”
“You don’t know what I know, Griffin.”
Hearing my name paired with the way she throws her hair over her shoulder, distracts me from the tension between us. I can't stop myself from fixating on her mouth.
“You know nothing about me. I know this is a shitty situation. I know they aren’t going to be nice about this.
But I also know that it’s bigger than me.
I tried standing up to him and you saw where it got me.
So excuse me if I’m doing the only thing I can to keep it from happening again!
” She glares up at me. Her chest is heaving and flushed.
“Like hell I’m gonna sit here while you become their plaything.
You think they’re gonna leave you alone because you gave them what they wanted once?
They got a taste of somethin’ good.” I’m so close now I'm towering over her. “They’re not gonna be satisfied with your cooperation. Not for long. Men like that always want more. They’ll use you up until you’re nothin’.
It’ll be easier if you bend over and spread your legs. ”
She shrinks, withdrawing into herself right in front me. Closing her eyes, she blows out a shuddered breath. She shakes as the memories flood in, playing through her head like a horror film on endless repeat.
“Dammit,” I step back so fast you’d think I burned myself.
“I’m sorry.” Guilt wraps around my heart like a vice.
“I didn’t...” The urge to reach out to her is warring with the knowledge that she’ll probably flinch like she’s been stung again.
I stay where I am, torn between giving her space and wanting to haul her close so I can hold her until she stops looking so goddamn broken.
“Hey.” My voice is softer this time, quieter. “Look at me. Please?”
“I threatened him.” She covers her face, as she retreats even more.
“Threatened who?” My fingers twitch. The urge to wrap them around someone’s throat is unbearable. “The guy that did this to you?”
“It was my punishment for standing up to him,” she mutters.