Page 35 of One Hot Summer
“Good.”
“What are you saying?”
He leaned forward, elbows on knees. “I’m saying, if you want to be with Adam, you have my blessing. So. What are you going to do?”
For the first time in a week, I knew the answer. I stood up, snatching my phone and car keys. “I’m going to go see him,” I said. “I don’t know if he’ll talk to me, but I have to at least try.”
Dalton grinned, wide and sudden. “Now you’re talking.”
I paused in the doorway, looking back at my son. “You’re sure you’re okay with this?”
He shrugged, all the years of old pain and new forgiveness folding into one motion. “I’m not going to pretend it isn’t weird. But if you’re happy, and he’s happy, then I can deal.”
He crossed to the door, pulling me into a quick, rough hug. “Just… be good to him, okay? He deserves that. You both deserve it.”
“I will,” I promised. “Oh, and Son,”—I pulled back, looking directly at him—“You were worth it. You will always be worth anything I have to do to make sure you’re happy because I love you.”
Warmth filled his gaze as he stared back at me. “I love you too, Dad. Now, get out of here and go smooth things over with your man.”
My man. Those two words played on repeat as I rode the elevator down to the ground floor and got out. I liked the sound of them. I just hoped I could make them into a reality. I left the office, sunlight glaring off the buildings, the world suddenly new and full of possibility. I didn’t know what would happen. Maybe Adam would slam the door in my face. Maybe he’d already moved on. But I was done running.
Chapter Eleven
ADAM
Even though the massive heatwave we’d had earlier in the season had passed, it was still August in NYC, and the concrete jungle was muggy and hot out. The AC in our building had been replaced, so at least it was cooler inside the apartment, which was where I’d stayed since returning from Tennessee.
I’d been so happy to finish all my assignments early, but now, I regretted that choice since it left me with even more time on my hands and no way to fill it. Instead, I’d spent the last few weeks cleaning every single surface in the tiny space until it gleamed, convincing myself that if I just kept moving, I wouldn’t have to think about how the two people I loved most in the world were gone and it was all my fault.
I checked my phone again—like I hadn’t done the exact same thing two minutes before. Notifications: zero. No messages from Dalton, nothing from Griffin. Not that I’d expected any really.
Dalton had been by a few times to pick up more of his clothes. He barely looked at me when he came, just mumbled aquick hello before grabbing what he needed and leaving again. I understood why he was angry. I’d betrayed his trust, fallen for his father of all people. But the lack of communication was killing me. Dalton had been my rock for so long, the only real family I’d ever known. His absence left a gaping hole in my life that I didn’t know how to fill.
And then there was Griffin. God, I missed him. Every night I dreamed of his touch, his smile, the way he made me feel safe and wanted. But he’d made it clear at the airport that we needed space. That whatever had sparked between us in Tennessee was over before it really began.
I tried to tell myself it was for the best. That I was young and would get over it. That there were plenty of other fish in the sea. But deep down, I knew it was a lie. What Griffin and I had shared was special, once-in-a-lifetime. I’d never felt so connected to another person before and I doubted I ever would again.
With a heavy sigh, I flopped onto the couch and tried to shatter the oppressive silence by switching on the TV and letting the volume spike, but the voices on the screen just felt hollow. I turned it off again, then wandered into the kitchen to check if any new food had materialized since I last opened the fridge. It hadn’t. I grabbed a can of seltzer and let my mind drift back to Tennessee, to the soft quiet of the mountains and the way Griffin’s hand had felt tangled in my hair.
I missed Dalton, but the ache for him was different—a dull, heavy thing that lived in the space between my ribs, a memory of a brother I’d lost. My feelings for Griffin, on the other hand, were a raw, living thing. They burned through me every second, sharp and relentless, like a fever that wouldn’t break.
I kept replaying those days at the cabin, the slow build of tension, the way our bodies had fit together like we’d been doing it for years. I’d never felt that way before, not with anyone. The taste of his mouth, the sound of his voice in my ear, the way he’dlooked at me in the blue light of dawn—sometimes, I wondered if I’d just imagined the whole thing. Maybe I had.
I went back to the futon, curling up around my phone like it might suddenly vibrate and bring everything back to life. I found myself touching my lips, tracing the places where Griffin’s mouth had left bruises. It was embarrassing how much I missed him. We’d been together for such a short time, barely enough for the world to register that we were even a thing, and already I felt like I was suffocating without him.
More memories played through my head like a film, the way he’d look at me across a room, and how even when he was frustrated there was a gentleness in him that made me feel safe. I remembered the way he’d said my name, the way his lips had quirked up at the corners when he pretended to be annoyed but was actually just amused.
I wondered what he was doing now. If he was holed up in his office, pouring over contracts and pretending I didn’t exist, or if he was out at a bar, letting someone else buy him a drink, someone older, wiser, better. Maybe he was just at home, sitting in the dark, missing me in the same miserable way I missed him. I doubted it.
Maybe that was the real problem: I didn’t believe that something this good, this unexpected, could actually last. Not for me. Not when no one in my life had ever treated me like I was someone worth fighting for.
I finished the seltzer and chucked the can into the recycling bin, then immediately fished it out and rinsed it off, because old habits die hard. I made my way to the window and looked out, counting the cabs as they crawled past, pretending each one might be carrying someone I knew. I imagined Griffin stepping out onto the curb, looking up at my window and smiling. Instead, it was just my own reflection in the black glass, looking tired and a little bit haunted.
I wondered if this was what the rest of my life would look like—endless days of waiting for things I couldn’t control, endless nights wishing I could go back to that moment in the cabin where I was truly, stupidly happy. I let myself sink down onto the futon and pulled my knees to my chest. I was so lost in my own head that I didn’t hear the first knock at the door. The second one was louder, impatient, and for a wild second I thought maybe it was Dalton, come to punch me in the face or tell me I was still his best friend, or both. At this point, I’d welcome either.
What I didn’t expect—what I absolutely, one-hundred percent did not prepare myself for—was to open the door and see Griffin Price, standing there in a charcoal suit and a blue tie, looking like every fantasy I’d ever had. He looked about as strung out as I was, but his eyes were so blue I forgot how to breathe.
“Hi,” he said, voice rough and quiet.
