Page 82 of Find You Again (Nashville Star 2)

Then, “Very well,” she says, her voice harder than it was. Any trace of levity gone. “I understand completely.”

Griff frowns.

“Two weeks.”

“Two weeks? You’re fuckin’—”

“Get her ready. If she can’t handle the terms, perhaps she shouldn’t be paid.”

Griff sucks in a breath. “You’re a cold bitch, Freddie.”

“I could say the same thing about you.”

At the sound of footsteps behind him, Griff ends the call without a goodbye and glances back over his shoulder. It’s Holly. She enters the kitchen, her sharp brown eyes on the pill bottle in his hands.

“Never thought I’d see the day you’d be playin’ nursemaid,” she quips, adjusting the tangled bracelets on her wrists.

Griff keeps a neutral face and crosses his arms. “Yeah, well, it’s for Alabama.”

Her voice steady, she walks toward him. “She took a bullet for you, Griff.”

The reminder sinks its fangs into his throat. “I know.” He swallows thickly, aware of Holly’s accusing eyes burning a hole through him. “I ain’t happy about it.”

“She is, though. And do you know why? Because she loves you.”

Emotion hits him quick and fast, and all he can do is nod. “I love her too.”

She stops inches from him. “Then don’t hurt her.”

“I won’t.” His voice is like gravel; he can barely get the promise out.

But Holly isn’t done. “Don’t lead her on if you ain’t serious. She needs this new start. If you ain’t plannin’ to be a part of that, walk away. Let her have this, without you, and move on. You both move on.”

Griff’s stomach clenches at the thought of another man in Alabama’s bed, taking her out at night, writing her a love song.

“I ain’t walkin’ away,” he says in a low voice. “I did it once, never again.”

Holly stares at him, her eyes calculating, like she’s a human lie detector, then she lifts her chin and grins.

“Good. Because she’s hurtin’ right now, but you know what? She’s the happiest I’ve ever seen her.” Holly jabs a finger in his chest. “That’s because of you. So, you know. I’m rootin’ for you, Griff. Even if you are a scoundrel.”

He snorts. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Adjusting her bag on her shoulder, Holly takes three quick strides to the front door. Griff follows her into the hall.

She pauses, hand on the doorknob, and glances back over her shoulder. “Don’t forget—I work in a kitchen. I know how to swing a fryin’ pan.” Her eyes glitter. “If you hurt her, I’ll kill you.”

He nods and then says, “Thanks. For doin’ what you could to clean up the house.”

“You’re welcome.” She tucks a lock of her curly hair behind her ear and juts her chin. Her gold cross earrings sparkle in the light of the sun. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a deputy sheriff to go scream at.”

The door shuts with a soft click and Griff’s left there with his heart thundering in his ears. He breathes out, lacing a palm across the back of his neck and bowing his head to the cool wood of the front door.

She’s hurt and it’s his fault. Again.

Letting out a frustrated growl, Griff squeezes his eyes shut against the mantra tattooed onto his brain.

“Fuck,” he mutters. Holly’s message came through loud and clear. Alabama’s a good woman. And Griff Greyson sure as hell doesn’t deserve a good woman.

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