Page 81 of Find You Again (Nashville Star 2)

“And before you say it, I know. I know I could’ve died. I know my arm could be fucked up, maybe forever, but I don’t care.” Groaning, Alabama buries her face in her hand. “I love him. God help me, I love him. I’m an idiot, but I do.”

When she raises her face, Holly’s pursing her lips, a lecture on the tip of her tongue. But before Holly can say a word, Alabama pins her with a look. “I couldn’t stand the thought of him hurt. I—I didn’t think. I just reacted.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Holly throws up her arms in frustration. “Alabama Forester’s motto from the dawn of time.”

The sound that comes out of Alabama is a gut-busting laugh. She holds her arm tight against herself, trying to keep it still. “Stop,” she says, hitting Holly with her foot. “You’re gonna make me bust a stitch.”

She wipes her eyes, tears and laughter intermingling. She hadn’t realized how badly she needed this. A friend. Confession. A tough talking-to.

“Everything okay in here?” a rough voice says from the hallway.

Alabama glances up to see Griff hanging in the doorway, tattooed arms crossed, biceps bulging. He wears a deep frown that says he sees her tears, sees the magazines on the bed and isn’t a fan of any of it.

“Honest to God, Griff, you’re hoverin’,” she says, exasperated. The last five minutes, she’s heard him prowling around in the hall like some mangy tomcat.

His scowl deepens. “I don’t hover. I do, however, care, and if she gets you worked up ...” His firm tone tells her he’s about five minutes away from booting Holly and the magazines out the front door.

Holly rolls her eyes, waves a placating hand at Griff. “Okay, okay. Five minutes, then I’ll am-scray, grump-ay.”

Griff scowls at Holly but then lasers his gaze to Alabama. Heat flares in her cheeks at his cocky half-smile. At the spark of love burning bright behind his golden eyes.

After Griff disappears, Holly turns to Alabama. “Tell me everything.”

So Alabama takes a breath and does just that.

Griff ambles down the hall, scowling at the giggles that follow him. He’s being overbearing, but hell if he knows how to be anything else. Alabama ain’t one to sit still, not for a minute. So it’s up to him to keep her off her feet and relaxing.

He comes to a stop at the foot of the stairs, running a finger down the banister to find it free of dust. He thanks his lucky stars that Holly came through for him. That Alabama didn’t have to come back to a pigsty of a run-down shack.

But it could still be better. He knows the old house and his mom deserve more.

A low vibration has Griff slipping his cell phone from his pocket. “What?”

“Hello there.”

Griff fights a groan when he hears Freddie’s abrasive accent. He’s been so caught up in worrying about Alabama, he’s forgotten about their scheduled phone call. They haven’t spoken since the hospital, since Griff called to tell her Alabama had been shot, that Nikki was in jail, that he was dangerously close to losing his mind.

Pausing midstride, he sighs and leans back against the wall. “I’ve only got a minute, Freddie.” He glances at the door, keeping one ear out for Alabama.

“Alabama.” The click-click-click of Freddie’s nails sound over the line. “Tell me, Griff, when will she be ready to play?”

“Are you fuckin’ serious?” His fist curls around the phone, hot anger lashing his spine.

“Ah yes, formalities first. How is she doing?”

“You don’t care, Freddie, so don’t piss me off by askin’.”

“Yes, unfortunately, I can’t care because my first order of business is business. Your business, Griff. The tour was hot and now it’s not. We need to reschedule ASAP to secure sponsors for the winter tour. If not, we lose our chance.”

Needling his brow, Griff shoves off the wall and enters the kitchen. Spying Alabama’s purse on the counter, he rummages around for her pain pills, finally finding the brown-yellow bottle buried at the bottom. Freddie goes on. “Luckily, the photo is keeping you in the public eye at least.” There’s a devilish smile in her voice. “Dare I say, you look convincing.”

Griff slams a fist on the counter. “I’m gonna tell you one last time, it ain’t a goddamn act.” He’s pissed. He needs Freddie to hear him, to get it through her bird brain that nothing he feels for Alabama is fake. That the bet he made don’t mean shit. That she’s his and he ain’t letting her go again.

Freddie’s snort is curt, disbelieving.

“Do you hear me?” he says, his tone taking on a tender edge of seriousness. “I love that woman. She’s my priority and I want you to understand that. Fuckin’ fast, Freddie, because now you’re really pissin’ me off.”

There’s a pause, so long that at first, Griff almost thinks the line’s gone dead.

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