Chapter Fifteen Maren #3
“Because it keeps being true.”
“Can you not make me emotional near a water station?”
“I brought water.”
“You think hydration solves feelings?”
“It helps.”
She took the bottle because her eyes were stupidly hot and drinking gave her something to do.
Griffin watched her, not pushing.
Not stepping in.
Just letting the good news belong to her.
Maren swallowed water and emotion in the same painful gulp.
“I need to send him something good,” she said.
“You will.”
“My portfolio is decent, but I need to update it with this weekend.”
“You can.”
“I need a clean case-study page. Metrics, strategy, visual samples, captions, engagement shifts.”
“I can help pull numbers.”
Maren looked at him.
He blinked, as if he had not realized what he had offered until it was out.
“You can?”
“Yes.”
“You want to help with analytics?”
“I like numbers.”
“Of course you do.”
“And sequence.”
“Deeply romantic.”
His eyes held hers. “I can be useful.”
The words landed wrong.
Not because he meant them badly.
Because she heard the old thing underneath.
Useful as worth.
Useful as identity.
Useful as the way he knew how to offer care without saying the softer word.
Maren stepped closer.
Only a little.
“Griffin.”
His gaze sharpened.
“You are not useful to me because you can pull numbers.”
He went still.
The noise around them seemed to soften at the edges.
She should stop.
The dock was crowded. The water station was public. There were children with goggles and alumni with smartphones and Tyler somewhere within screaming distance.
But Griffin had said the clean parts for her.
Maybe she could say one back.
“You can help,” she said. “And I will probably let you because you do like numbers in a morally alarming way.”
His mouth twitched.
“But you are not valuable because you are useful.”
The words changed his face.
Not much.
Enough.
Like she had reached into a locked place and touched something he had forgotten was still tender.
Maren’s breath caught.
She wanted to take it back because the look on his face was too much responsibility.
She did not.
Griffin looked down at the water bottle in his hand.
Then back at her.
“Careful,” he said quietly.
Her mouth curved, soft and shaky. “There it is.”
“What?”
“That thing you do when something almost gets honest.”
His eyes warmed.
For a second, they just stood there, smiling at each other like idiots in the middle of Lake Briar Cup day.
Then Tyler shouted from the dock, “Maren! Griffin! We have a problem!”
Griffin closed his eyes.
Maren sighed. “And there it goes.”
They turned.
Tyler sprinted toward them, followed by Beckett, Miles, and Cooper, who was walking at a normal speed because dignity mattered to him.
“What happened?” Griffin asked.
Tyler stopped, panting. “The fan-voted skills challenge results are in.”
Maren looked at him. “That is not a problem.”
“It is when the winning challenge involves you two.”
Griffin’s body went still beside her.
Maren’s stomach dropped.
Tyler held up his phone.
The fan-voted challenge poll glowed on the screen.
WINNER: COUPLES CANOE COURSE
Maren stared.
Griffin stared.
Beckett looked reverent. “The people have spoken.”
Cooper sipped his water. “The people are messy.”
Miles nodded. “The people also voted that I should wear floaties. I have concerns about democracy.”
Maren looked at Griffin.
He looked back.
A canoe course.
Together.
In front of everyone.
After last night.
After the kiss.
After deciding not everything had to be posted.
After Maren had just started to believe she could keep her work and whatever this was from swallowing each other whole.
Her phone buzzed.
A new Lake Briar comment flashed across the screen.
If Griffin and Maren win the couples canoe course, they have to post the carry clip.
Maren’s blood went cold.
Griffin saw it.
His expression changed.
Not anger first this time.
Understanding.
Tyler winced. “For the record, I did not suggest that part.”
Maren looked from the comment to the lake, where the canoes rocked innocently near the dock like they had no idea they had become emotional weapons.
Then she looked at Griffin.
His voice was quiet enough that only she heard.
“We can pass.”
The words were exactly right.
So right they almost made her choose them.
Maren looked down at the phone again.
Post the carry clip.
There it was. The crowd trying to spend another piece of her before she decided what it cost.
She took a breath.
Then another.
“No,” she said.
Griffin’s eyes searched hers. “No?”
“No, we are not passing.”
His jaw tightened.
Not in disagreement.
In attention.
Maren lifted her chin.
“We are doing the canoe course,” she said. “And when we win, we are not posting the carry clip because the internet does not get to make that the prize.”
Tyler’s eyes widened.
Beckett whispered, “I have chills.”
Cooper said, “Hydrate.”
Maren ignored them and looked at Griffin.
“This is my call.”
He nodded once.
Immediate.
Steady.
“Your call.”
Her heart twisted.
That man.
That impossible man.
“Good,” she said, trying to sound less affected than she felt. “Then let’s go win a canoe.”