I jogged behind him. “Thought you were coming with.”
“And look like an overeager fool?” He cut left onto the trail. “You gotta soften Sophie up for me first.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
GRIFFIN
It took a day to get back to Phoenix and catch a flight to Seddledowne. On the plane, I connected to Wi-Fi.
I shouldn’t have.
Liam hadn’t heckled me since we had it out in my grandparents’ yard. Actually, he hadn’t said a word. But lately, the rest of the internet had taken an interest—mostly in my teenage years. Which was never good. I didn’t care what strangers thought, but it baffled me that they’d take cheap shots at someone who went out of his way to stay out of the spotlight.
I didn’t know if I’d primed the algorithm or what, but the next reel opened on a portrait of my dad, Bowen, James, and me—one of Granny’s annual beach week photo shoots. This particular gem was from sixth grade. Right when I hit my first growth spurt and my face started breaking out.
I already stood out as the only redhead in the family. But I was also painfully skinny and a head taller than James, who was a year older. Back then, I couldn’t put on weight no matter what I did.
The caption read:
How is this the same Griffin Dupree we see walking around today? (Wait for the close-up.)
I exhaled through my nose and turned up the volume on my AirPods.
A bald TikToker, who looked like he’d crawled out from under a pile of newspapers on a New York street, had green-screened himself, belly-laughing in the bottom right corner. He zoomed in so that I took up the entire screen. “Every small town had one kid that looked like this, amirite? Tall for absolutely no reason.”
“It’s called genetics, noob,” I shot back.
The woman in the middle seat glanced over, her expression wary, like she was already regretting not paying to pick her seat.
Baldy continued, “Bro has arms so long he could probably change a lightbulb without a ladder.” He hummed the theme song to Inspector Gadget. “And his hair is doing whatever it wants.” He zoomed in on my cowlick. “He’s not even trying to tame it.”
“Yeah, well…” I muttered. “At least I have hair.”
And he was wrong. I’d fought that cowlick for years. It wasn’t until a Phoenix hairstylist introduced me to the magic of a directional blow-dry and something called Smoothing Serum No. 4, which cost forty dollars, that I finally got it under control.
Baldy did a close-up of my face. “And the skin is goingthroughsomething. Sir… you were nine and already struggling.”
“I was twelve,” I said under my breath.
I flicked out of TikTok. It was either that or defend myself, which was a terrible idea. People online were always searching for the next witch hunt.
Just then, a text popped up.
Jules
Why does it look like you’re in Kansas?
It’s so hard to tell what someone is really thinking over text. Was she hopeful that I was coming back to fight for her? Nervous that I might show up because she never wanted to see me again?
I’d thought it had hurt when Maggie kissed Bowen, but it was nothing compared to knowing that the love of my life had dropped at least five thousand dollars to retain a lawyer to end us. Yeah, I’d Googled the cost.
Griffin
Why are you checking my location?
I smirked as her texting indicator bounced.
Jules
