Page 88 of Find You Again (Nashville Star 2)

Taking that to be directed at him, Griff looks out the window and says, “Hot for this time of year.”

“Almanac’s wrong,” Newton grouses. “Every damn year. I got winter vegetables dyin’ on me.”

Speaking of dying, Griff is. A slow death at the pained attempt to make small talk. But he forces himself to be nice. He can feel Alabama looking between the two men she loves and aching for them to get along.

Griff clears his throat. “How’s the department treatin’ you, Newton?”

“Can’t complain. More paperwork than I care to fill out.” Newton’s eyes skim over Alabama. “You bein’ kind to that arm?”

“I am.” Her smile is bright. “Griff’s takin’ great care of me.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Newton’s clipped tone tells Griff he is not, in fact, glad to hear it. And that tells Griff exactly where he stands with Newton. The same spot he was in when he left Clover twelve years ago. To Newton, he’s still the same damn dumb kid who hurt his daughter.

Griff’s chest tightens and he stares down at the rings on his fingers.

Not like there’s much difference today.

“You want some breakfast?” Alabama asks, trying to keep her dad for a while. “We don’t have much, but we could whip up some bacon.”

“Nothin’ for me,” Newton says, holding up a meaty paw. “I gotta git. But before I do ...” He rustles around in the plastic sack and pulls out a bundle of letters wrapped with a rubber band. “I brought you some things.”

Alabama pales, disbelief clouding her expression. “You brought me ...”

“Your bills,” Newton interjects. “They’ve been stacking up ever since you ran back to Nashville. Think you’ll be payin’ them soon?”

As if remembering all of her money troubles, Alabama presses her lips together and nods, but Griff sees the tears filling her eyes. “I will.”

Her voice, a hushed whisper, has Griff’s heart detonating.

Griff looks at Newton, a slice of anger welling in him. Anger that Newton’s so damn stubborn he’d rather throw Alabama’s mistakes back in her face than actually care about his daughter.

“I have to use the bathroom,” Alabama whispers, blinking back tears. “Excuse me.”

With that, she pushes past her father, the soft shuffle of her footsteps disappearing down the hall.

Griff slams a hand on the counter. “You’re a damn fool, you know that?”

Fuck the fact that it’s Alabama’s father; it’s Griff’s goddamn house and Newton Forester coming in here to insult Alabama ain’t happening. “You’re gonna push her away. For good one of these days.”

Newton eyes him evenly, unmoved. “She’s gotta learn actions have consequences.”

“Consequences?” His teeth clench. “How about you say fuck your consequences and instead care about what happens to her? That’s all she wants. She wants you to be a father and not a damn cop.”

“I’ve cared for Alabama her entire life,” Newton grinds out, going red in the face. “Which is more than I can say for you.”

The knife of guilt twists.

A flash of red, of blood corkscrews his vision.

But Griff shakes it away. He isn’t stopping. He draws himself up and clenches his fists. “And whose fault is that? I was a kid. I ran when you told me to.” He shakes his head in disgust, at himself, at Newton. And he makes a decision. “I ain’t doin’ it no more. She deserves to know the truth.”

“And how’s that gonna treat her?” Griff’s surprised when the old man’s eyes suddenly fill with tears. “All you been doin’ your entire life is lettin’ her down,” he says, jamming a finger in Griff’s direction. “You shoulda stayed away from her. You shoulda let her be. Now look what’s happened to her.”

The accusation’s a punch to the gut and Griff stiffens.

She’s hurt and it’s his fault. Again.

With those last cutting words, Newton turns and storms out of the house. The clatter of the screen door sounds so much like a bullet that Griff jumps. He tries to breathe, tries to come down off the words hurled at him, but guilt’s dug its roots in deep and won’t let go.

Every word Newton said was true. Alabama’s been nothing but a gift to him; she got him out of that dark place he’d been sinking, knocked some sense into him, and what did he do?

He got her fucking shot.

He let her down.

That thought has any resolve to tell her the truth evaporating like early-morning mist. If she learned the truth ... she’d leave him. It was in their cards. She’d do to Griff what he did to her because the past in Clover—it sticks.

And there’s not a damn thing he can do to escape it.

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