Page 94 of Find You Again (Nashville Star 2)

He blinks, coming back down to earth. His breathing steadies as he realizes that Alabama is beside him. That she is okay.

That none of it was real.

Alabama scoots closer, the sides of their thighs touching. “Are you hurt, Griff?” She pats him down with a shaky hand, her eyes wet, her face worried. “Is anything broken?”

Rolling his neck on his shoulders, he gives a dark laugh. “No. Just fuckin’ sore.” He lifts his eyes to the roof. “It ain’t that far of a drop.”

“Easy for you to say.” She sits back on her heels. A massive relieved sigh shakes out of her. Tears shine in her eyes. “You scared me to death.”

“Hey, don’t cry.” He reaches out to brush a tear away from her face. “I’m okay, sweetheart.”

Her face is wary. “Griff.”

He shifts his weight, and Alabama’s there, slinging an arm around his waist and helping him stand the best she can.

A curse rips out of him when he puts pressure on his leg. Pain radiates down the back of his hamstring. “Think I pulled a damn muscle.”

A tear-choked laugh erupts from Alabama as they both hobble toward the house. “Good Lord, Griff. Two fine messes we are.”

Alabama enters the bedroom to find Griff in pajama pants, his hair damp from the shower, wincing as he lowers himself onto the bed. He stares out the window, his face creased and far off.

“What hurts?” she asks softly.

He startles. His face clouds up, angry at himself for worrying her.

“You can’t fool me, Greyson.” Alabama crosses the room and sets a glass of water on his nightstand. “You’re hurtin’, so take this.” She snaps one of her pain pills in half and gives it to him.

With a smirk, he swallows it down. “I’ll be better in the mornin’.”

Alabama places a steady palm on his chest “And until then ...” Slowly, she presses him back into the bed.

His face screws up into a grump of an expression. “Alabama, I’m fine.”

“Well, how ’bout you humor me and let me fuss for once.” She fluffs the pillow behind him and covers him with the sheet. When she’s finally satisfied he’s comfortable, she lets out a long breath and sits beside him. “What happened today, Griff?”

His throat works as he swallows. “I don’t know,” he says, reaching out to take her hand in his. He turns it over in his palm. Stares hard at it even though the dried paint’s been long scrubbed away. “I was lookin’ down and all I saw was you covered in blood. I heard the gunshot. I saw it, Al, clear as day.” He lets out a dark swear, and when he raises his eyes, Alabama sees the anguish there. “I saw you bleedin’.”

Her stomach nosedives at the mention of the bullet and the blood. But she forces the memory from her mind to focus on Griff. She wants nothing more than to ease his pain, to take away those awful images in his head. Images she has every time she closes her eyes.

Griff goes on, a hollowness to his voice. “I panicked. I wasn’t thinkin’. All I knew was that I had to get to you and then—”

He trails off, letting the rest of the sentence go unfinished.

Alabama laughs. “Yeah. And then.” She’s quiet for a long moment, and then she bites her lip and looks at him. “Looks like we’re both gonna need some therapy when we get back to Nashville.”

“That’s all I want to do,” Griff says, not refuting her suggestion. His hand tightens around hers. “Finish up this damn tour and get back to Nashville.” His gaze meets hers. “With you.”

The soft look he gives her warms Alabama like the sun.

It’s all she wants. A sign, a second chance. A second chance with Griff.

Alabama smiles. “I think that can be arranged.”

Then, noticing Griff’s eyelids going heavy, the sleeping pill having its desired effect, Alabama stands.

“Where you goin’?” Griff murmurs, not letting go of her hand.

She brushes a lock of hair from his eyes. “I’m gonna let you sleep.”

---