Page 98 of Find You Again (Nashville Star 2)

“Okay.” He takes a resigned breath and kisses her brow. “Okay, sweetheart.”

Alabama sits with her back pressed against the driver’s-side door. She’s silent as she waits for Griff to begin. Her heart pounds like a drum. She’s nervous—this is what she wants, what she nearly ran them off the road for, and yet the truth could change everything. It could change them.

It could end them.

Griff rubs his hands together, the knock of his rings like a starter pistol. “I messed up,” he says, a ragged hollowness to his voice. “Everything we had, I messed it all up the night of the kegger.”

“The night of Johnny’s party?” Alabama asks, old memories poking her mind.

Griff nods. “We were celebratin’. Or at least I was.” His eyes meet hers, then flick to the windshield. “I had just bought the ring that mornin’. I saved all summer for it, workin’ at Hank’s Hardware. I wanted it on your finger by the time you went back to school.”

The words are like a knife to her heart, and Alabama flinches. But she stays quiet, wanting him to get it out, to go at his own pace.

“So I told Johnny about the ring and we had some beers,” Griff says, low-voiced. “I wasn’t drunk, but I was drinkin’. And then you pulled up in your daddy’s Jeep and—”

“I asked you to drive,” Alabama finishes.

He swallows. “I never even thought about sayin’ no. I was so damn happy to see you, so fuckin’ high from that day, I agreed. I never should have got behind that wheel.” He swears and shakes his head, still angry at himself after all these years. “The rollover was my fault. I lost control, and I got you hurt and I have no damn excuse for it.”

Alabama frowns, confused. “I know all that, Griff. Except the drinkin’ part and ... well, you were a kid. You were at a party. How does my father fit into any of this?”

Griff’s posture stiffens, his fingers curling to a fist on the legs of his jeans. “He told me to leave. And like a damn fool, I listened.”

Alabama’s stomach flips, the world around her tilting on its axis. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

Griff runs a hand over the back of his head. “The day after the accident, when I was waitin’ to see you, your father came out and said he wanted to talk to me. He told me he knew I had been drinkin’ that night, that he had enough to pin me with a DUI.” His jaw works the words over, his eyes shiny with tears at the memory. “He said that if you had died it would have been murder.”

Alabama covers her mouth. “He said that?”

Griff nods, then goes on. “He told me if I stuck around I’d only keep hurtin’ you. He warned me not to wreck your chances in Nashville.” He blows out a breath. “I didn’t know what to do. I panicked. I thought for sure he’d arrest me. The thought of my mama, the thought of you findin’ out what I had done—I couldn’t handle it, Al. So I left.”

The decade-overdue confession hangs in the air between them like a noose.

Alabama sits silently, taking it all in.

She’s never been so shocked, never expected the root of Griff’s exit from Clover was that her father had basically blackmailed him into leaving. She wants to call bullshit, to tell Griff he’s wrong, but she can’t. Because she knows her father. Newton Forester doesn’t allow mistakes. Not in his town, and sure as hell not with his daughter.

Griff’s eyes glisten and Alabama’s heart breaks at the anguish in his face. “I was a coward who let your father chase me away from you. It was my worst damn mistake, Alabama, and I’ll never forgive myself for leavin’ you.”

She wets her lips. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I shoulda, but I couldn’t. I was too damn embarrassed and angry with myself. At Newton, too. He was your daddy. You loved him, you looked up to him. Anytime I ever thought about tellin’ you, I had been gone too long. I didn’t want to hurt your relationship with your father. I didn’t want to take him away from you, too.”

A soft sob bursts from Alabama’s lips. She presses her lips tightly together and thrashes her head. Wanting to refute his words. Wanting it not to be true. But it is true. Utterly and horribly true. These last twelve years, Griff’s been carrying around this guilt. Keeping her father’s secret all because he didn’t want to hurt her.

A despondent look crosses Griff’s face at the sight of her tears. He reaches out to take her hand, then stops himself and makes a fist instead. “I wish I could turn back the fuckin’ clock and tell you everything. That I never stopped lovin’ you. That I thought I was doin’ the right thing by leavin’, only it tore me up inside a thousand times over.”

He inhales sharply. “I’m so damn sorry, sweetheart. I never wanted to hurt you. But I did. Because I know you needed an explanation and I didn’t give it to you.”

Alabama sits silent, sits stunned, for so long Griff’s unable to stand it.

“Say somethin’. Anything,” he pleads. “Tell me I don’t deserve you. Tell me I’m a coward. Tell me we’re done.”

She rubs a palm over her wet eyes, her shoulders trembling violently. “Stop it. Stop it, Griff.”

He stares at her, his expression bereft. “Tell me you hate me.”

“I can’t,” she whispers. She swallows down her tears and meets Griff’s eyes. “I can’t because I love you.”

---