Chapter 2 #2
Everything about him looked… off. Messy dark hair, stubble shadowing his jaw, a t-shirt that had seen better days. Not his usual curated, media-friendly appearance. And in his arms, snug against his chest, was an actual infant.
For a long second, Griffin just stood there, staring at my father like he’d materialized out of thin air. His grip tightened on the baby, his fingers flexing against the blanket like he wasn’t sure if he was steadying it or himself.
“Didn’t realize I was getting the Carter Family Special.” His green eyes swept over me, lingering just long enough to make my skin prickle.
It had been nearly a decade since I first met Griffin, back when he was still tearing up junior circuits and making an art form out of being insufferable. I’d dated his teammate, the same boy who’d all but forgotten I existed the second the season started.
I glanced at my father, my perfect mask slipping momentarily. “This is what you dragged me away from my friends for?”
He clasped his hands behind his back. “Yes.”
Griffin let out a dry laugh. “Glad to see I’m not the only one blindsided tonight.”
“If you handled your affairs properly, there’d be no surprises,” Julian said, his tone hard.
Griffin’s jaw ticked.
“We’re not having this conversation here.” Julian glanced back toward the gate. “I’d rather not give some lurking parasite the scoop of the season.”
The two-time world champion stepped aside. I followed Julian in, and got hit in the face by the scent of powdered formula, something vaguely floral from an open pack of wipes, and the synthetic newness of plastic.
The living room was a battlefield of baby supplies. Half-unpacked bags from a late-night supermarket run slumped on the kitchen island spilling nappies, tins of formula, and a rattle that still had the tag on. A sterilizer sat unopened on the counter, the instruction booklet abandoned next to it.
Liam, Griffin’s trainer, sat perched on the sofa arm. He lifted a brow. “Well. This should be good.”
Julian ignored him. “Sit.”
He gestured to the sofa, currently covered in an assortment of inappropriately aged baby toys. The newborn in his arms looked no more than four weeks old. The stuffed bear would suffocate her.
“Or you could just tell me why she’s here,” Griffin muttered.
My father adjusted his cuffs, ignoring his hostility. “Griffin requires assistance.”
“That much is obvious.”
“I am in the room, you know,” Griffin said, actually sounding affronted.
Funny, I didn’t think he had feelings to hurt.
“Her mother left her in your care. You are not equipped to handle this situation alone.” Julian gestured vaguely in my direction, as if presenting a new aerodynamic upgrade for the car rather than his daughter. “Violet is the solution to your lack of… infrastructure.”
My head snapped toward him. The mask slipped for a fraction of a second before I wrestled it back into place.
Excuse me?
“I don’t need a babysitter,” Griffin said.
“You absolutely do,” Julian said. “And frankly, Violet is the only person I trust with this. She is the best candidate to ensure it doesn’t affect your career or the team’s standing.”
Griffin looked at me, skeptical. “She hates me.”
“I don’t hate you,” I said, lying through my teeth as I channeled every ounce of media training I possessed. “I just think you’re high-maintenance. But family comes first, right?”
I glanced at my father, daring him to contradict the script he’d forced on me.
Julian didn’t even blink. “Precisely.” He turned back to Griffin, his voice dropping into that reasonable, terrifyingly calm register he saved for contract negotiations.
“Violet has graciously agreed to step in. She provides the structure you lack, and you provide the performance we pay for. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement. ”
“It’s an ambush,” Griffin said, though the fight bled out of him as he looked down at the squirming bundle against his chest.
“Call it what you want, but unless you have a secret nanny hidden in the guest room, you have a race to prepare for and a child who needs care. You cannot do both.”
Hazel let out a sharp, sudden wail.
His eyes widened and he froze. The confidence he wore like a second skin on the track evaporated. He stared at her scrunched-up face with pure terror.
“Shh. It’s okay.” He rocked her, but the movement was stiff, jerky.
She screamed louder.
“Okay. Maybe not this exact second—”
Liam snorted. “Yeah, mate. You look real in control.”
Griffin shot him a glare. “I’ll figure it out.”
“You’ll figure it out while keeping up with a full racing season?” Julian asked. “While managing the press, the sponsors, and the travel schedule?”
Griffin’s jaw tightened. The baby shrieked, a high, frantic sound that grated against my eardrums.
I watched him fumble, trying to soothe her without knowing how. It was painful. Incompetence made my skin itch.
Hazel’s cries escalated and I couldn’t take it anymore.
“When was the last time you fed her?”
He hesitated and Liam made a low, amused sound.
“That answers that.”
Griffin shot him a withering look before shifting his focus back to me, eyes darting briefly to the baby nestled against his chest. “I tried. She wasn’t having it.”
“She’s a newborn, not a member of the pit crew. You don’t just give it one attempt and call it.”
Julian tutted. “This is precisely why you need assistance.”
“What I need is sleep, and a rulebook for keeping an infant alive.” Griffin rocked her awkwardly.
Dad pinched the bridge of his nose. “Christ.”
Her cries escalated further, her fists flailing.
“You, uh, wanna take over here?” Liam was staring at me like I was some kind of miracle.
I hesitated, but really, did I have a choice?
I glanced at my father. He knew I couldn’t say no. Not without admitting exactly how much control he had over me. And I’d rather eat glass than let Griffin Michaels witness that particular humiliation.
As if I had a choice.
I stepped forward, holding out my arms. “Give her here.”
Griffin clutched the baby tighter, stepping back. “I don’t need your help. I definitely don’t need you.”
Trust me, asshole, the last thing I want is to spend my days fixing your mess.
“Do you want her to stop crying, or do you want to keep posturing?”
His expression flickered with irritation, but he carefully eased her into my arms. His arms hung uselessly at his sides, his gaze fixed on her.
I rolled my eyes. “Warm a bottle, and I’ll show you how to feed her properly.”
I marched into the kitchen without waiting for a response. Griffin trailed behind me like a lost puppy.
He stared at the array of tins, bottles, and scattered instructions like he’d been asked to defuse a bomb.
“Find the formula that says ‘first stage.’”
His eyes flicked over the labels before he grabbed one and held it up. “This one?”
I checked the tin. “Yeah. Now, bottle.”
He reached for one still in its packaging and wrestled the plastic wrap off, nearly knocking over a stray tin in the process. I let him fumble through it, watching as he set the bottle down with an air of triumph.
“Okay.” I nodded. “Boil some water.”
He flicked the kettle on, tapping his fingers impatiently against the counter while it hummed to life. I bounced Hazel, her cries settling into sniffly whimpers against my shoulder.
The moment the kettle clicked off, he grabbed the bottle and filled it straight from the spout. He ripped the foil off the nearest tub of formula, dumped in a scoop, and screwed the lid on with brisk efficiency.
He shook the bottle once, then popped the cap off and held it out. “Done.”
I didn’t take it.
“If you think it’s fine for her, test it on your wrist.”
Without hesitation, he tipped the bottle against the inside of his wrist and hissed in pain. Cursing, the bottle clattered to the counter as he yanked his hand back, shaking it like he’d been stung.
Liam wheezed, slapping a hand against his knee. Even Julian looked like he was debating between disappointment and sheer exasperation.
“What did you think was going to happen?”
Griffin scowled, gripping his wrist like it had personally offended him. “How was I supposed to know it’d turn into a goddamn branding iron?”
Unbelievable.
“That’s precisely the problem,” Julian said, his tone sharp and unyielding. “You don’t stop to think. You just do. And if Violet wasn’t here, you’d have burned her.”
Griffin’s expression hardened. “I wouldn’t have.”
“Don’t bullshit me, Michaels.” His gaze pinned Griffin in place. “If Violet doesn’t do this, you lose your seat.”
Griffin’s jaw dropped and he froze. He let out a short, sharp laugh, shaking his head in that way people did when they were this close to losing their minds.