Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56256 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56256 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Griffin removes his hand, placing it back on the wheel so he can make a turn toward the police station. “Last time I talked to them was before I left for culinary school. My father told me I was being an ungrateful piece of shit leaving like I was, and that I needed to get a job and help out with the bills around the house.” Griffin swings into the parking lot, pulling his truck into a spot. He kills the ignition, and turns to face me. “I felt bad for leaving. For a long time I felt I should have helped my parents pay bills, but I felt I could help them more if I made something of myself.” He hangs his head low. “I don’t know,” he blows out.
I want to hug him. Something inside me explodes with emotion as I sit here and stare at him. He’s really quite gorgeous, but it’s more than that. There’s this vulnerability there that makes me want to reach out and touch him in some way. “I’m glad you left,” I tell him, happy he went to make something of himself. “You love cooking.”
His eyes crash into mine. “I do love it.”
My heart squeezes in my chest, having his full attention on me. It makes me want to lean in and kiss him again, but I know that’s not the answer.
This man has done everything he can for our family. He feels like he owes us in some small way, and I’m sure that’s why he felt he needed to make things right with me.
I can’t lay that on him.
I shouldn’t have tried to come onto him. I’m an asshole.
“You’re a good man,” I tell him, because it’s true.
Something flickers behind his eyes as he stares at me. “Let’s go and get your brother.”
“Will you do one thing for me?” I ask him.
“Sure. You know I’d do anything for you.”
I smile, my heart doing that flippity-flop thing it always seems to do in Griffin’s presence. “Please keep me from killing him.”
Chapter 12
Griffin
I grin, squeezing her hand at her request, knowing she’s joking but I almost feel the same. What the hell is Tripp thinking? “I’ll do my best.”
We climb out of the truck and make our way into the police station. I hold the door open for Anya and the bright lights hit us as soon as we enter.
“My stomach is in knots and I haven’t done anything, but walking in the police station makes me feel like I’m in trouble for something,” she whispers.
I grab her hand and squeeze, letting her know I’m right here. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”
I’m not even sure if I’m trying to convince her or myself. That kiss has my head all messed up. Not because it wasn’t amazing, but because it was amazing and she doesn’t appear to see it like I do. At this point, I don’t know if I keep trying to prove I wanted the kiss or if I just let it go and remember the promise I made to Callum.
“Griffin, Anya.”
We turn and Sheriff Brown is standing there with his big arms crossed. I haven’t seen this man in a hot minute.
“Sheriff, it’s great to see you. Wish it was under different circumstances. What happened?” I ask.
“It’s great to see you two,” he says, grinning as his eyes bounce between us. We’re still holding hands and this looks like much more than what it really is. He clears his throat as he shakes his head, his bushy eyebrows raising as he stares at us. “We got a call about a party at an abandoned house. When we arrived, everyone ran, but Tripp was too drunk to make it out as fast as everyone else.”
“During the day?” Anya questions.
“Yeah, apparently they’ve been there since last night partying.”
“So, what happens now?” I ask.
“I should keep him until he’s sober, but as I told him, he’s lucky I’ve known him since he was in diapers. I allowed him to make a phone call.” He chuckles, adjusting his heavy belt. “I shouldn’t be surprised he called you instead of his parents, or brothers.”
“Yeah, he thinks calling me will keep him out of trouble, but I’ll make sure he’s punished in my own way.”
He nods. “The crew he was hanging out with are known to us. He’s going to end up getting himself in real trouble if he keeps hanging out with them.”
“This is unbelievable. He knows better,” Anya says, shaking her head, clearly upset.
“He’s young and dumb. Hopefully, this has scared him enough to see things differently,” I say, hoping to ease her concerns.
“Let’s hope so,” Sheriff Brown says.
“What do we do now?” Anya asks.
“We aren’t hitting him with any charges, this time. So, you guys are free to take him home. I’ll go back and get him out of the holding cell.”