Page 33 of Wrecked Rose

I wet my lips, still able to taste Griff on them, and get her attention. “We had a little disagreement. It’s all good.”

Griff tenses as he looks down at me, his face blanching, as if it’s just sinking in that he pushed me so hard I’d fallen.

“You fucking shoved him to the floor?” Daphne’s temper hits a boiling point almost instantaneously. She takes several steps toward Griff as I scramble to my feet. She’s the kind that doesn’t anger easily, but when she does, watch out.

Not wanting her to haul off and punch Griff, I pull her back against my chest. “I’m fine. I tripped and fell.”

She twists around, anger flaring in her eyes. “Are you lying to me, Max?”

I don’t respond to the question and instead tug her against my chest, holding her tightly. “I’m fine.” I watch a myriad of emotions drift over Griff’s features—guilt, lust, embarrassment, longing.

It’s entirely possible Griff Danbrook isn’t ready for me. Hell, I don’t know if I’m ready for whatever he’ll do either. I drop a kiss on top of Daph’s head. “I gotta go.” Unwinding my arms from around her, I hurry from the room, out of his house, and into the cold night.

Chapter 22

Griff

“What the hell, Griff?” Daphne’s anger at finding us like this—at seeing her best friend flee the party because of me—is clear as a bell.

I huff out a breath, my eyes connecting with hers. “I don’t—” I hesitate. “I don’t know what to say. I can’t—” I groan from some place deep in my chest. “I’ll go talk to him.” With that, I race out of the game room, my ears buzzing. I’m so fucking confused, I don’t know why I’m chasing after him, or what I’d even say to make things right. It was shitty to react the way I had.

My frustration mounts as I attempt to get through the crowd. Because it’s so cold outside, there are more people in the house than usual tonight, and it feels like it takes forever to weed through all of them and get to the front door. Finally making it outside, I hit the steps and practically fly down them. Seeing Max quite a ways ahead of me, I drop into a dead sprint.

“Max!” At first, I think he’s not going to stop and that thought makes my stomach turn over. “Max, wait!”

Just as I get to him, he whirls around, throwing his arms out from his sides. “What do you want?”

Breathless, I reach out a hand to him and he shrugs back, away from me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t react well to…” I bite down on the corner of my lip and drop my gaze to the driveway.Fuck. How do I—?

“To what?”

“Look, I’ll try to find out what I can—about your friend, I mean. I’ll help you figure out who hurt him.”

“Yeah. Don’t do me any favors.” He turns around, striding with purpose toward his SUV again, which I can see not too far in the distance.

Shit.My voice sounds strangled when it comes out. “I’m sorry for what happened to your friend.”

He stops abruptly, spinning on his heel again. “Are you?”

I come to a halt right in front of him—close enough to see his eyes in the dark. They look wounded and wary. “I am.” I grimace, pulling on my hair for a second before I clasp my hands on top of my head. “I’m not an asshole, Max. You know I’m not.”

Cool, calm, and collected now, he cocks his head to the side and pins me with a steely gaze. “From where I landed on the floor a few minutes ago, you could have fucking fooled me,” he bites out. His chest rises and falls rapidly, and I can’t stop myself from watching intently.

I want to reach out to him again. Draw him to me. Provide comfort for the anguish he is obviously feeling over what happened to his friend—but more so, what he’s going through because I fucked up.

Ikissedhim.

And then I pushed him away.

I’ll have to take responsibility for both—own up to doing those things to him. And I don’t even have a good answer to why I’d done it.This isn’t me. I’m not—Frustrated, I huff out air into the cold night.

We stare at each other for moments that feel like hours. Finally, he gives me a sad look, then jerks his thumb over his shoulder and quietly says, “I’m going to go now.” He turns his back on me and the farther away he gets, the more this weird twisting sensation in my chest claws at me.

Without realizing I’m doing it, one foot in front of the other, I follow him, stopping beside him. He sends the tailgate of his X5 up and rummages around in his trunk.

“Max.”

He straightens up, a surprised look on his face as he closes the tailgate. He must not have thought I’d follow. This time, when I reach for his arm and grip it tightly, he doesn’t pull away.

---