Page 20 of The Curveball

Impossible to avoid.

Impossible not to like.

I shake my head, wincing when a sharp jab of pain rushes to my new horn on my forehead. I’m exhausted. It has to be close to one in the morning, and I want to crash somewhere soft. The thought of it swirls my gut. I don’t have my soft place to crash at the moment, and I don’t know what I’m going to do about it.

“Griffin,” I whisper. “Where’s my car?”

He hesitates, then scoots to the edge of the seat, lacing his fingers together.

“Your car is the next thing I want to talk about,” he says with a touch of caution. “But before I do, I need you to know something about me: I don’t share secrets, Birdie. I don’t gossip, and if you tell me something in confidence, it stays there.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I need you to be honest, okay?” Griffin takes a deep breath, blowing it out slowly. “I saw your car. I saw everything. At first, I assumed you might be moving, but—” His jaw pulses and I brace for what I know is coming. “Are you living in your car?”

An odd bite of pain gathers in the center of my chest. A strange sensation, almost a burst of relief, but one laced in hot, dripping shame.

The first instinct is to shrink back, but the second, fiercer, defensive reflex takes over. “That isn’t any of your business.I’mnot any of your business.”

Griffin doesn’t flinch. Almost like he anticipated the spitting teeth, balled fist, and strident voice.

“Level with me, Wren.”

Gosh, when he says my name like that, all soft and oozy with sweetness, the raging flame of embarrassment dies in an instant.

Griffin is bold. He takes one of my fists between his hands. “I’m not judging you, but whether you want me to be or not, I’m involved now. And unlike Alvin the Chipmunk, I’m not sending you out into the dark.”

Unbidden, the bite of tears gnaws in the back of my eyes. I drop my gaze. He knows, there’s no hiding the truth, so why try? Griffin is a dog to a bone. He’d never let it go.

“I’m not homeless,” I tell him. “My apartment has black mold, so I’m sort of in between places, waiting.”

Partly true. The mold was real, but I have many places I could stay. For previously stated reasons when it comes to my family, I chose to pretend life was uninterrupted.

Griffin lets his eyes close at the same time he sighs. “How long?”

“A few days. I promise,” I tack on when he looks at me like he doesn’t believe a word of it.

Griffin curses and scrubs his face again. “Why haven’t you told anyone? Do you know how dangerous that is, Birdie?”

“No, Griffin, tell me.”

He glares at me. “You mentioned a brother. Don’t you have family who could’ve helped?”

The man is unyielding with his questions, and I’m not sure how to respond. The relief of sharing a heavy burden is there, but to do it with Griffin Marks is not how I intended this to happen.

“I haven’t told my family.”

“Not close with them?”

“We’re too close. That’s the problem. I don’t need to be rescued.”

“We all need to be rescued sometimes.”

I pause at that. He believes every word he says. But it’s easy for him. He probably lives in a mansion on the hill with a contrived butler and sexy maid to do his bidding. I stop myself before I can take it too far—that was judgmental. Griffin isn’t a rich guy who blasts his wealth or status. He’s never been that way.

“I have it under control.”

“Maybe so, but it still doesn’t solve the first major problem. You need to be observed tonight, and you need to wake up every two hours.”

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