Page 96 of The Curveball

“She couldn’t stop looking at me.” He laughs when I turn around. “Me. Not you.”

He touches his upper chest. The place where Wren’s scar would be. Like he’s proud he put it there. To me, he’s practically promised to give her another one. He’s practically promised he’s going to put his grimy hands on her again.

I’m not having that.

The next thing I know my fists are curled around his lapels and I’m slamming his back against the wall of the building.

Parker calls my name, but it’s muffled. All I think of is getting this guy out of here.

“You even come within a hundred feet of Wren, and you’ll deal with me.” I slam his back to the wall again.

He winces, but finds the gross will to smile. “You’re all talk.”

“Griffin,” Parker warns, his hand on my shoulder. “He’s egging you on. Remember Oliver? Guys like him are snakes. Watch it.”

I know it. In my head, I know he’s baiting me. Parker and Skye had to deal with a worm of a man, too, and it’s the only thing helping me hold on to my last grip of sanity.

I promised Wren I wouldn’t do this.

It takes every ounce of control I have, but I release Clay’s suit coat and take a stiff step back, fists clenched. Every muscle trembles in fury, but I take another step back.

Clay’s brow furrows. “That’s it? That’s her big defender?”

“Lucky you, I keep my promises.”

For a few breaths, Clay simply studies me like he doesn’t know if I’m human or not.

The hinges of the door creak, and rapid footsteps sound outside. All at once, Clay tugs on his tie, rips half his shirt untucked, runs a hand through his hair, then curls over his knees, holding his nose like it’s bleeding. “You broke my nose!”

“What? I didn’t even touch—”

“Griffin!”

My heart jumps to the back of my throat.

Wren stands a few feet away, and looks between us with total horror. Her dad, brothers, Ryder, and Dax are behind her, breathless.

“Griff,” Ryder says. “Step back from him, man.”

“Get him away,” Clay cries from behind his hands. “He’s lost it.”

“He’s not even bleeding.” I lift my hands up. No way is this happening.

“Griff didn’t hit him,” Parker shouts.

Clay shakes his head. The tool is actually pretending to wipe his nose. “I was leaving, and he slammed me against the wall and hit me!”

I wheel around to Wren. “I did hold him against the wall, but I didn’t hit him. I swear, baby. I didn’t.”

Tears drip down her face. Her hand covers her scar, her other arm holds her middle. “You promised me.”

“Wren, listen, please.”

“No!” She takes a step back, wincing like I mighthit her. Her voice cracks as she whispers, “Oxford comma, Griffin.”

My stomach turns inside out, and I pull back. She’s using her safe word . . . on me? Wren shakes her head and bolts back through the doors.

I’m spinning. Hands in my hair, I turn to Carter and Darren, desperate for clarity. For someone to stop the ground from cracking beneath me.

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