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Sweet Mountain Dew. He’d smacked Griff?
I stared after his back as he climbed the stairs. I wanted to go to him, to make him sit down and tell me everything, but I knew Jay best. An angry Jay was not who I needed to be around right now. Before my ex, I wouldn’t have batted an eye, but now, that sort of anger triggered me.
If I needed answers, there was only one place to get them.
I ran up the stairs to change into something that wasn’t a holey T-shirt with a stretched-out neckline and sweats that were held up on my hips by the string. Jay was playing loud, angry rock music. He was my best friend. He shouldn’t have to suffer through this alone. If I wasn’t so broken, I could help him.
Seeing Griff might help.
I wrote a note and slipped it under his door, so he knew I went out. In fifteen minutes, I was at Griff’s apartment building. Nervousness had me driving around the block twice as I rehearsed what I needed to say to him. I hadn’t spoken to him once since the incident in his bed. Maybe I could pretend it never happened. Settled on this course of action, I entered the driveway of the apartment building and found a parking spot.
At his apartment door, I knocked softly. No answer. Wasn’t he home? He had to be. I’d spotted his motorcycle in the parking lot. I knocked harder.
Fudge sticks. What now?
I took out my phone from my pocket and rang his number. I had to ring him three times before the line opened.
“Scottie?”
Griff sounded exhausted.
“Hey. Are you home? I’m outside.”
“That you knocking on the door?”
“Yeah.”
“Shit. Give me a sec.”
He ended the call. I clutched my phone tightly in my palm and almost had my breathing under control when the door opened. Only to have my heart galloping like a wild stallion in an open field.
Griff loomed in the doorway, putting his arms through the holes of a gray shirt. I glimpsed tattoos layered over a solid chest and rock hard abs before the material covered him up.
“What are you doing here?”
I pulled my gaze away back to his face and winced. “Your face…” I reached up—all the way up—to gently touch the nasty bruise that spread around the area of his nose. “Does it hurt?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe you should go to the emergency room. It looks quite nasty. What if it’s broken?”
“It’s not.”
He removed my hand from his face but didn’t let go.
“Do you want to talk about what happened?”
“No.”
A wave of disappointment washed through me. Usually I would press, but he looked so miserable and broken. My heart hurt for him and Jay. For what they were both going through. How could I support them both when they were hurting from hurting each other?
I took a step and wrapped my arms around Griff’s middle, hugging him. He looked like he needed a hug, and it was the only thing I could offer him anyway. Even if he didn’t want it. “I’m sorry. If I’d tried harder, maybe this wouldn’t have happened.”
His rigid body lost some of its tension. Slowly, he placed his arms around me and hugged me tighter. “I really hurt him, Scottie. I hurt my son.”
“It’ll work out. You just need time.”
I didn’t even sound convincing to my ear. So much time had passed and Jay was no closer to forgiving his father. Maybe I was being too optimistic, but how could I be anything else? Griff looked so devastated, and Jay hadn’t been in a better mood either. If I could just get them both in a room with the door locked, no windows, so they had to sit and talk things through.
