Page 192 of Scatter the Bones

I’m going to need a month at a secluded cabin to recover from this trip. Away from noise, dumbfuckery, and people. Way too many people in my face, crowding around us in the hallway outside the room where Griff’s supposed to sit down and answer questions from every dumbass sports “reporter” with a podcast. Rooster, Remy and I do our best to keep a circle of protection around Griff and Molly while fans push and shove to get his autograph or ask him obnoxious questions.

How can he stand this shit?

Griff’s already wobbly from the fight. He’s probably exhausted but he keeps a tired smile in place while he talks to people and signs stuff. Molly keeps tugging on the hem of her dress and swiveling her head like she’s searching for the nearest escape route.

“You all right, kiddo?” I ask her.

Her mouth pulls to the side. “Just tired.”

Griff glances at her, concern darkening his expression. “Almost done, muffin. Promise.”

Finally, we’re let into the room. Griff’s whisked away by a team of people. I plop into a chair out of the way and dig out my phone.

A flood of notifications lights up the screen—messages from damn near everyone I know, asking about the fight.

Nothing new from Margot.

I hope she had a good time at the clubhouse. Not sure the fight was her kinda entertainment but at least she got to hang out with everyone. Lilly and Charlotte had each sent a text letting me know Margot was okay.

My thumb swipes open the tracking app—her blip’s still parked at the clubhouse. Good. She’s supposed to crash at Z and Lilly’s place tonight.

Shelby rests her hands on my shoulders and peers over my chair at my screen. “I’m startin’ to think you believeEvery Breath You Takewas a love ballad and not a stalker anthem.”

Damn, I love this woman and her random music references.

I tip my head back and widen my eyes. “It’s not?”

“Quit playin’.” She taps my arm and settles into the chair next to me.

“As if you and Rooster aren’t obsessed with each other.”

She grins wider. “Absolutely true.”

I glance at the screen again and close out of the app. “I really wish she could’ve come with us.”

Her smile fades. “Me too. Next time, hopefully?”

“I hope so.” I tap my phone. “She knows about the app, just so you know.”

Her expression softens. “I was only kiddin’ about the stalker thing.”

“After the girls said that shit to her at the clubhouse,” I explain, “I gave her the apps for my phone and watch, so she can always tell where I am. And she said it was only fair…”

“Jiggy.” She squeezes my arm. “That’s so sweet—in a kinda unhinged way.” She blows out a breath. “But with the twists and turns our lives seem to take, it’s probably smart.” She covers her mouth with her hand. “Not that I think Margot’s gonna get kidnapped or anything.”

“You okay?” I ask her.

She tosses her hair back, like she’s collecting her self-esteem. “I’m Shelby Frickin’ Morgan, I’m flockin’ fabulous.”

I shake with laughter. “Yes, yes, you are, songbird.”

She lets out a loud yawn. “Actually, I’m plum tuckered out. Thought my heart was gonna leap outta my throat watchin’ them two go at it. I’ve seen y’all spar and mess around, but that was next level.”

I jerk my chin toward Dawson, who’s holding court with some reporter in the corner. “How’s he feeling?”

“Pretty dang good. Won a buttload of money, I’m sure—” Her eyes widen, and she lowers her voice. “Oh, shoot, Teller must’ve crapped a brick. Whole club was throwin’ down heavy on Griff, right?”

“Hell yeah.” I nod. “So did I.” I glance at Rooster and Wrath. “Them too.”

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