Page 41 of Playing Hard to Hate
“You’re looking a little pale there, Tate,” Griffin noticed, his gray eyes studying me. Concern washed over his features, and the fingers of his free hand twitched at his side.
“I nearly died tonight,” I muttered, reaching up to rub at my forehead.
“But you didn’t.”
“I had a gun held up to my head,” I whispered, tears blurring my vision. I sniffled. “I just wanted to get some fruit. I didn’t do anything wrong.” The first hot tear rolled down my cheek. “Why did they pick me? Why couldn’t I just move? Why did I have to stand there like an idiot?”
Griffin set his bottle down on the counter with a loud clank and closed the space between us. Taking my bottle from my shaking hand, he set it down behind me. His scent crowded me, his gray eyes sweeping over my features, his big body overwhelming. My lips trembled as I tried to hold back my tears.I was so tired.I didn’t want to cry again.
“I’m out of my league a little here, Tate. Tell me if this is okay.” His large, tan hands settled on my waist, his heat sinking through the thin layer of my leggings. I nodded, swallowing past the lump in my throat. At that moment, I didn’t care about our past. I didn’t care about all my unanswered questions. I just needed comfort. To be held. To know that everything would be okay.
“You weren’t picked,” Griffin rasped, his thumbs brushing under my shirt to rub the skin at my waist. I shivered. “He didn’t know you. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, but it’s okay because I was there.” He ducked his head, forcing our gazes to lock. “I was there, kitten. And I know we have arocky past, but I wasn’t going to let anything happen to you, Tatum. I couldn’t stand back and watch you get hurt.”
Dropping my forehead to his hard chest, I let the tears fall as the night’s events crashed into me. His strong, lean arms wrapped around me, one hand holding the back of my head, his other arm banded tightly around me. Our bodies were flush, and I clung to him, seeking out his heat, his comfort, and his security.
“Why?” I croaked.
Griffin drew in a deep breath, and raggedly, he whispered, “I don’t want to have any more regrets with you.”
CHAPTER 18
GRIFFIN
PRESENT
Tatum yawned, her green eyes shutting for a moment as she leaned her head against the comfy back cushion of the couch. Concerned, I quickly finished putting in our order for pizza at the closest pizza spot to her place before turning to give her my attention again. I needed to think of a way to distract her. Otherwise, in pure Tatum style, she’d dwell on what happened tonight. And after what she’d just gone through, it was the last thing she needed.
“Still prefer ham instead of bacon on your Hawaiian, right?” I asked her. I guessed it was a little too late to ask her in case her tastes had changed, considering I’d already put the order in, but I could always cancel it and put another one in.
There wasn’t much I wouldn’t do to make her happy right now. I just needed to get her through tonight.
She opened her tired eyes, her gaze roaming over my face, something akin to nostalgia lingering in them. “You remembered?”
I roughly cleared my throat, suddenly overcome with sadness. I didn’t want her to see it, though. She didn’t need myfeelings right now on top of everything else. “Tatum, I may have been a world-class jerk, but I never forgot a single thing about you.”
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, like she didn’t know what to do with what I’d just told her. And I couldn’t really expect her to believe me. I mean, Ihadturned my back on her because I couldn’t hide what I felt for her anymore. If I’d continued being her friend, I would have screwed everything up, and we would have lost each other anyway. Every single day I’d spent in her presence had pushed me closer and closer to blurting out my feelings for her.
And she didn’t reciprocate them. She’d made that clear.
It was easier to pretend I hated her. That I couldn’t stand being in her presence. It was easier to taunt her for the things I adored about her. Always struggling with locks? How in tune to her emotions she was? Ilovedthose things. They made her unique.
They made her Tatum.MyTatum.
She roughly cleared her throat and grabbed the TV remote, pressing play on the movie, like she neededsomethingto distract her from the turn our conversation had taken. I didn’t say another word, not wanting to push her too much, too soon. She needed time to cope. A mere couple of hours ago, she’d thought she was going to die.I thought she was going to die.I had the terrible visual of holding her limp body in my hands and never getting the chance to apologize for all my mistakes.
The movie was just beginning to get good when a knock sounded on her door. She moved to get up, but I waved at her to remain sitting as I stood to my feet. “I’ve got it, kitten,” I told her as I strode to the door.
When I opened it, a young girl was standing there, probably around eighteen or nineteen. She was holding the pizza andbreadsticks I’d ordered. She beamed at me, her eyes lighting up. “Oh my god! You’re Griffin Silver!” she squealed.
I grunted. I hated this about being a pro. It’d been bad in college, but now that I was in the big league, it was all the time. “Pizza?” I asked.
She flushed. “Oh. Right.” She quickly handed the boxes to me. “Can I get an autograph for my little brother?” she asked, batting her eyelashes at me.
“Sure, just give me a minute,” I told her, trying to keep a hint of enthusiasm in my tone. The fans were important, but today they just felt invasive. Tonight had been insane. I wasn’t in the mood to pretend to be excited about signing a fucking napkin for her little brother. I wasn’t in the mood for anything, but I took the burning hot pizza box from her hands, told her to wait outside, and strode through the small condo. I left it on the granite counter and then grabbed a bounty napkin.
“You have a Sharpie?” I asked Tate, who was watching curiously.
“Top drawer on the left,” she said, and I quickly grabbed the black Sharpie, squiggled my signature, and then dumped it back.
