Page 41 of No Going Back
And telling.
Griffin shook his head, eyes dropping to the floor. “Nothing.”
He went silent.
They were stuck. Caught at an impasse. Wedged against the goals they each had and the plans they used to shape their lives.
“No.” Dianna stood a little taller, unwilling to let it go. “You came all the way over here, barged right into my house, the least you can do is tell me what you were going to say.”
Her voice was a little shaky, but she still got the words out. Still fought to be the woman she so desperately wanted to become. A woman who didn’t let anyone walk all over her. A woman who didn’t brush things off or avoid important conversations just because they would be uncomfortable.
And this was an important conversation. Griffin didn’t show up on her doorstep to be friendly. He wasn’t standing in her living room because this was a casual drop-in. He was here because it bothered him that she was with Cooper.
And she was going to make him tell her why.
“But, what?”
Griffin’s nostrils flared as he stretched one hand toward the door. “He doesn’t even really know you, Di.”
Her brows jumped up in surprise. “He’s known me longer than you have. What do you mean he doesn’t know me?”
“I mean he doesn’t know you.” Griffin dropped his arm to his side as he stalked back toward her. “He doesn’t know you try to fix pipes instead of calling a plumber because you don’t want to bother anybody. He doesn’t know you spend hours on your back porch trying to make the squirrels and birds come to you.” He kept coming, closing every bit of the gap between them in a few swift steps. “And I’m willing to bet he doesn’t know the way you like your clit licked or the sounds you make when you come.”
All the air rushed from her lungs, and it was suddenly impossible to replace it. That definitely escalated quickly.
But things usually did with Griffin. One minute they would be having a conversation, the next, part of her clothes would be missing.
But maybe that was by design. Maybe Griffin used sex to avoid difficult discussions.
“You are correct. He definitely doesn’t know those last two things, but,” Dianna fought to keep her focus, “you don’t actually know me either.”
Sure, he caught her at a few vulnerable moments then gleaned some information about who she was, but Griffin didn’t really know who she was deep down. He didn’t know about the insecurities she fought every day. The fear that she would never feel good enough. The desire to find a way to be fine again.
Griffin was silent, but his gaze was intense as it fixed on her face. “Then let me know you.”
The request was soft and simple.
And completely and utterly terrifying.
“I don’t know that I even know me.”
It was a confession she hadn’t made to anyone, including the therapist who worked so hard to help her recover from the abuse Martin put her through. Somewhere in all that mess she’d lost herself. Bits and pieces of the woman she was were chipped away with every insult and every belittling word until there was so little left she couldn’t make sense of it all.
But Griffin didn’t seem to understand the gravity of the revelation. His lips curved into a little smile as he reached up to tease the tips of his fingers along her cheek. “Then shouldn’t someone?”
It was a simple suggestion, and one that would do her absolutely no good. “How can I tell you who I am if I don’t even know?”
Griffin’s lips lifted a little more, like he wasn’t seeing the flaw in his plan. “What’s your favorite thing to bake?”
Dianna blinked, thrown off by the change in conversation. “What?”
“What’s your favorite thing to bake?” Griffin repeated the question and it was just as confusing the second time.
“Are you trying to distract me?”
“No.” Griffin caught a strand of hair that had fallen loose of the messy bun at the top of her head, twisting it around his fingers. “I’m getting to know you.”
“And you want to know what my favorite thing to bake is? That doesn’t seem very deep or like it would tell you much about me.” His intent was sweet, but his system was flawed.
