Page 9 of Griffin
"Gidge?" I asked.
"Yeah. Told her I'd be home in an hour."
I shook my head. "If anyone had ever told me that my cousin Jax would be settled down with one woman and promising to end his beer night early to get home to her, I'd have told them they were nuts."
"Yeah, yeah. Anyway, don't knock it until you try it."
Stella's mention of being buttered up reminded me of the morning and of Shay. "Jax, I never asked you this. How did you know? How did you know with Bridget? Other than the fact that she's incredible to look at. You've been out with other stunning girls, but you never fell hard for them. You were hooked from day one."
"Sure as fuck was. She jumped from that boat, swam out to me on my jet ski and wrapped herself around me. The whole thing just triggered this weird deep reaction. I felt this connection with her that I'd never felt before. She felt it too. Which I guess was lucky for me." Jaxon rested back against the seat and squinted at me. "Why you askin'?" He sat forward so fast the table jiggled and beer sloshed over the mugs. "Did you meet someone?"
"What? No. No, I was just wondering. I mean I watched you date so many women and then this one woman stepped—or I should say swam—into your life, and you were like a stray puppy, wanting nothing more than to be curled up in her lap."
"Don't know if I was quite that pathetic, but yeah, I guess that's a close description." He reached over and patted me hard on the shoulder. "Can't wait until it happens to you."
"How do you know it will?"
"It will and then I can make fun of you, too."
"Oh good, who are we making fun of?" Stella asked as she set down a plate of nachos between us.
"Fin is looking for his love match," Jaxon said.
I shook my head as I grabbed a chip filled with toppings. The tough piece of pizza wasn't holding me any longer. "Never said anything about a love match. Hmm, good nachos. Hey, LaLa, can you get another bowl of salsa? Not nearly enough on these."
"Yes, milord, anything else before I'm off to do your bidding?" she asked.
I tapped my chin arrogantly. "Nope, that should do for now."
"I'd better get a good tip, and one of your pre-punched free sandwich cards doesn't count." Stella's long ponytail swung out as she spun around on her heels and walked away.
Jaxon and I plowed into the nachos, and the rest of the night, Jaxon's words "weird deep reaction" played on repeat in my head.
SIX
SHAY
I poured maple syrup on my frozen waffle and downed it quickly with a cup of coffee. The small kitchen had been dirty and squalid when we moved in, but the owner had given me permission to paint the cupboards white, and the blue tile, which looked outdated but was growing on me, had cleaned up nicely with a good scrubbing. I'd hung the two pieces of artwork I'd brought with me, a fun one with a little girl riding on the back of a silver dragon and one where a bunch of cows were gathered in a field of lavender. Keeping the house cozy was one of my coping mechanisms. It helped me get through days when things felt especially grim. And whenever that six-foot-two pillar of darkness took off for his next job, I could pretend that I was living in my own little house, a house decorated just for me. It was one of the ways I stayed sane in an impossible marriage, and since Tate took no notice about how the house was decorated, I was free to do as I pleased. It was possibly the only part of my life that felt free.
The waffle was tasty, and I was enjoying a few more minutes more of relax time when the kitchen table vibrated. The familiar and much-despised rumble that followed made the waffle turn over in my stomach. It was just the tractor of his truck, but it made enough noise to set off the neighbor's car alarm. The brakes hissed as he parked the truck in front of the house. My phone vibrated next, and I was so on edge already, I jolted at the sound.
"Move that fucking car out of the driveway. I need to pull in and work on my engine."
I texted back. "I'm leaving anyway. Be right out."
"I'm going to need your car. I'll take you to work. Thought I told you to quit that job."
"I'll take the bus." I grabbed my keys and purse and walked out to move my car. He stayed in the truck, and I was glad. That way I didn't have to see him, and I could leave the house without us exchanging any actual words.
I pulled the car out and parked across the street. He backed up his tractor and pulled into the driveway. I started off on foot to the bus stop. I was going to be late for sure. I wouldn't have to quit. Tate would make sure I got fired.
Tate dropped down from the driver's seat. I only saw his boots, and that was enough to send a chill through me. He'd stepped on my hand hard one day when I reached for a fallen piece of toast. I can't even remember the lie I had to come up with at work to explain red tread marks on the back of my hand. I just remembered a lot of looks of sympathy for the rest of the day. There was nothing I hated more than being pitied.
"Shay, where are you going?"
"I'll be late for work!" I picked up the pace and was relieved when I reached the corner.
I turned down the next street and took my first real gulp of air since hearing his truck. The nearest bus stop was only a mile away, but according to the app on my phone, I'd have to wait fifteen minutes for the bus that would drop me just a few blocks from the construction site. Being late on my fourth day on the job was going to look bad. I'd been enjoying the job and working hard. Colt had told me at least three times that I was doing a great job and that he was really glad to have me on board. Now I was going to give him reason to question his decision.
