Page 146 of Tangled Kisses
“No, we’re leaving,” she says quickly, her words edged in panic. “We’re going, Vander. Come on, get up.”
Then, she looks at me.
“For the love of God, stay away from us.” She stumbles over the words, but I catch it—the flicker in her eyes. Brightness, sharp and fleeting, is eclipsed a second later by fear.
And in that moment, I don’t know who she’s afraid of—him or me.
“Reese—” My voice breaks on her name.
She lifts her hands like she’s warding me off, palms trembling. “It’s done.”
She turns and walks away.
And I lose it.
My fists curl. My chest heaves. My vision swims with everything I can’t fix—the check. My past. Her hand in his. The future I thought we had.
I barely register the commotion—the gasps, the murmurs, the clinking of shattered glass. Somewhere, someone yells for security. Another voice—Lauren’s—cuts through the noise, sharp and urgent.
“Griffin! What the hell just happened?”
I turn, breath ragged.
She’s running toward me, eyes wide, panic in her tone. “Griffin, talk to me. What is going on?”
I can’t answer.
I can’t breathe.
I look at Lauren, numb, my voice grinding out like gravel.
“My fucking life is over.”
And then I shove the door open and disappear into the night, because if I stay one second longer—I will either drop to my knees or burn this place to the fucking ground.
The knockat the door doesn’t register at first. Not over the pounding in my skull or the sour taste in my mouth.
I’m half-off the couch, one foot still on the ground, my entire body soaked in stale whiskey and self-loathing.
Another knock.
Then a voice that makes my head throb harder.
“All right, you two lovebirds, get the fuck up!” Piper crows, pounding on the door. “I swear to God, if you’re naked, I don’t care. Chowder is running out of food, and I am not explaining that to him.”
I groan, blinking awake. “Jesus.”
Piper breezes in like a tornado, voice leading the way before she clears the threshold. “If you two ran off to Vegas and got married without me, I will personally kick both your asses.”
She’s already halfway across the living room by the time I sit up, groaning, squinting through the pounding in my head.
“I just got back into town and noticed Chowder’s food bin’s practically empty,” she continues, scanning the room. “Figured I’d pop in, see what kind of overpriced grain-free crap he eats before I go shopping. Capri said you were holed up here all weekend, so I figured you were finally doing the nasty like normal people and forgot the world existed.”
Piper pauses at the doorway to the kitchen, eyes narrowing as she takes in the ashtray and the reek of stale whiskey.
She fans the air with her hand, then plants both fists on her hips. “Who’s smoking?”
“Me.”
