Page 117 of Tangled Kisses
So I wait. Wait until my heart doesn’t feel like it’s going to seize. Until I’m sure I won’t break down in tears the second I try to face the truth. Until I’m strong enough to speak it out loud.
“You okay?”
I snap out of my reverie and catch Griffin’s bright blue eyes fixed on me. “Still waking up.”
He sits up, swinging his legs onto the floor. “Go jump in the shower again—trust me, you’ll feel better afterwards. Then we’re going somewhere.”
A stilted laugh escapes me. “Please tell me it doesn’t involve alcohol.”
He shakes his head. “Absolutely not. I think you’re set for the weekend.”
“I think I’m set for the next year.” I rub my temples, trying to ease the pounding there. “I was trying to drink away the pain.”
“Beautiful,” he whispers, his gaze catching mine for a beat. “That never works.”
Oh, how I wish it did.
But the pain from yesterday is still fresh, ripping open anew every time I look at him and remind myself it was never real.
At this point, I don’t know what is anymore.
By the timewe climb into his truck, I’m maybe fifty percent human. Might even make it to seventy-five by the end of the day if I’m lucky.
Griffin doesn’t disclose our destination, just eases his truck onto the highway.
The drive winds us higher into the Cascades until we pull up to a pretty condo complex—modern lines, wood accents, nestled against tall evergreens. It’s almost too perfect, like something from a glossy lifestyle magazine.
I glance at him warily. “Do you know someone here?”
“Yes, someone very important.”
I click my tongue against my teeth. “Are we visiting Lauren?”
Griffin jerks his head toward me, eyes narrowing. “Why the hell would I take you to visit Lauren?”
I toss up a hand before taking another swig of water. “I don’t know. Because you like her?”
And you’re probably going to marry her? Live a big fancy life with her?
Ugh, I’m feeling nauseous again.
“We are definitely not visiting Lauren.” He kills the engine and hops out. “Stay put and I’ll come around.”
As if. I push the door open and climb out on my own.
He’s already circling the hood, eyebrows lifting. “I was coming to let you out.”
“I can manage fine on my own,” I shoot back.
“You are so stubborn, you know that?” He closes the distance, catches my hand, and links our fingers tight enough that I can’t wriggle free. “Come on.”
Before I can protest, he shifts so I’m walking just ahead of him, his palm anchored at my waist where our hands are joined. His other arm slides easily around me, settling across my shoulders, his hand warm against my collarbone.
And damn, it feels so nice to be in his arms again.
Stop it, Reese. It’s not real. He’s not real.
I don’t know what the hell this is.
