Page 10 of Griffin (Stone Brothers #5)

TEN

SHAY

I 'd learned to be as quiet as a church mouse over the past few years.

My dance skills helped. My mom used to joke that my feet never touched the ground when I walked.

Tate was out cold from his late night. There was a cloud of stale beer scent around him and his snores sounded like drums in the dark, quiet bedroom.

I managed to get dressed, collect my things, brew a cup of coffee and get out the door with his snores still rumbling through the house.

It was a beautiful morning with a clear blue sky and only the slightest hint of last night's chill still hanging on.

I'd pulled on a pink sweater, a khaki skirt and my black ankle boots.

I didn't have a big wardrobe. Most of our money went to rent, insurance and his truck loan.

It seemed the piles of debt only ever got heavier.

I hoped the new job would help me get rid of some of the layers.

I sipped hot coffee from my travel mug and took advantage of a nice, energetic walk to the bus stop.

I was feeling wide awake and light on anxiety by the time I reached the stop.

I was surprised to find Annie huddled down in a plaid coat as she watched the traffic roll past. There were three roses clutched tightly in her hand.

She looked up when she heard my footsteps.

She smiled politely at first, obviously not recognizing me.

"I didn't expect to see you here at this hour, Annie," I said.

She peered up at me through cloudy blue eyes, and her smile sparkled. "Shay, it's you. You're here early too."

I sat down next to her. "Actually, I was late yesterday. This is the time I need to be here to make sure I'm at work on time. And you? Visiting early?" I motioned toward the flowers.

"Yes, I am early." She sighed and tilted her head side to side.

"My friends have been begging me to come back to the knitting circle.

They meet three times a week. I do enjoy seeing them all.

We chatter like a bunch of busy hens and then stuff ourselves with tea-sized sandwiches and coffee cake and very little knitting gets done.

It's the knitting part that always makes me tense.

I used to knit circles around all of them.

I taught three of them how to knit in the first place, but I hate sitting there with my trembling fingers and my bad eyes and?—"

I placed my hand on hers. "They're probably just glad to have you there, Annie. I wish I had a circle of friends like that."

Our bus turned the corner and shambled toward us like a big, diesel-spewing dragon. The brakes squeaked so loud, we both flinched at the sound.

"Too early for the school kids," Annie said over her shoulder as she climbed aboard. We both settled into a pair of seats about halfway down the aisle. There were a few other people on the bus. Everyone looked as if they were heading to work like me.

The bus took off. Annie was silent at first. She stared down at the beautiful flowers in her hand.

"It's so nice of you to always remember to bring her flowers," I said.

Annie nodded and smiled at me. "No circle of friends? A pretty, young woman like you?" she asked.

I'd forgotten where our conversation left off. "Oh that. I don't mind. I'm sort of a loner, an introvert."

Annie stared straight ahead. "You know, there was a time in my life when friends were scarce.

I'd had plenty, and then one day, I couldn't count on any of them to call me back or invite me out for a cup of coffee.

" Annie looked down at the roses again. On our last trip together, she'd been so animated telling me about her childhood.

She laughed in between her stories, but this morning there was a much more serious woman sitting next to me.

"What happened? Did you get too busy with life?" I asked, naively.

"No, dear. They avoided me because of Harold."

I hadn't seen where this was going, and when it finally struck me, it stole my breath. How did Annie know?

"Harold and I met through church, and we hit it off right away.

I was in heaven. He had a thick head of dark hair and big broad shoulders.

We were so happy … for the first year," she added grimly.

"He was always stressed about work and about earning enough money for the family.

I blamed that stress for a long time. I blamed his job and our constant struggle with money for how fast things between us disintegrated.

But the destruction wasn't coming from my side.

I did my part. I took care of Nina and the house and made sure he always had a hot meal to come home to.

I earned extra money working at the local fabric shop.

I did all I could to hold it together, but Harold grew angrier, harsher …

" Annie rested back and turned her face my direction.

"I should have left him sooner," she said quietly.

"But it was hard, and I—I waited too long. "

I was holding back tears, and my throat was so tight I couldn't speak.

I'd met her one time, one short conversation that was only four bus stops long, and in that time, she'd figured out I was in the same boat.

It was a silent language that transpired between all of us, all of us trapped in the same nightmarish cycle.

Independence waited on the outside, trying to pry us out of the bad dream, but it took courage and unfortunately courage was in short supply when you were constantly living in fear.

I rested back with her, and we held hands in silence.

We'd created a sisterly bond that should never have to be.

We reached her stop, and she squeezed my hand once more before shuffling off the bus.

I closed my eyes, absorbing what she'd said and trying to figure out how to gather that elusive courage.

An elderly man stepped onto the bus. He was struggling looking for the right change as he fished through his pockets.

The bus driver patiently waited while the man found the fare he needed.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a flash of yellow.

It was Annie's roses. I sat up straighter, hoping to catch her attention and wave to her, but she was focused straight ahead.

I looked back to watch as she turned and disappeared through a gate.

It was the local cemetery. I sat back, once again winded by the hardships that came with life.

I'd assumed Annie was going to meet with her daughter.

I imagined cups of coffee, some light conversation and a goodbye hug.

But I'd imagined it all wrong. Annie was visiting her daughter at the cemetery.

No coffee. No light conversation and no goodbye hug.

* * *

My bus ride and the reality that lovely Annie was going to visit her daughter's grave had slowed my pace.

I reached the worksite. Hammers echoed loudly and saws buzzed like swarms of angry bees.

The fresh wood smell that always clung to the air around the site reached me as I headed up the long gravel path that led to the trailers.

I pushed my empty coffee cup into my bag and pulled out the water bottle.

Annie's chat had left my throat dry with anguish.

I needed to wash that emotion away, so I could focus on my job.

Tate and I had barely exchanged ten words since he arrived home, and most of those words had been about the job.

He also mentioned he'd be leaving again on Monday, and I held onto that sliver of a lifeline as if it was the most important news of my life.

I just needed to get through the weekend.

Avoidance had become my number one coping mechanism.

I planned to take several very long walks and possibly a bus down to the beach.

He usually spent his days off slumped on the couch, chugging beer, scrolling through his phone and watching sports.

I was always glad when his focus was on a football game instead of on me.

I reached the site and found myself glancing around for that one face.

Griffin's call had caused as much emotional upheaval as Annie's story.

It was upheaval in a good way. For a while, I'd been totally on my own, thinking it was me against the world, namely against the Tate world, but knowing that other people had taken notice of my situation was one part embarrassing and one part emboldening.

I suddenly felt that there might be a safe place for me out in the world, away from Tate.

I was disappointed not to see Griffin but hoped he'd drop by during the day.

He always seemed to have a reason to stop in the trailer, and I hoped that I was one of the motivators for those frequent visits.

I reached for the trailer door, and it swung open before I could grab the handle.

Griffin's green eyes glittered in the sunlight pouring through the doorway.

"Shay, I'm sorry. I didn't hear you come up the steps.

I was just putting back the clipboard. Dad is running late, but he'll be here soon.

How was your evening? If you didn't bring lunch, we'll be ordering pizza.

It's a thing we do on Fridays, and now I'll shut up and let you come into the office.

" He shook his head. "Smooth as fucking cream, Stone," he said to himself.

I was sure I wasn't supposed to hear his self-admonishment, so I pretended not to.

"Pizza sounds good. All I brought is an apple and some stale crackers. I really need to get to the store." I walked to my desk. He'd been on his way out but he stayed.

I circled around behind my desk and smiled at him.

We both spoke at the same time. I laughed. "You first," I said.

"No, I mean, I was just going to say, I hope you don't mind that I called last night. It's none of my business but?—"

I circled back around to where he was standing.

The morning breeze rattled the trailer slightly, and the scent of freshly cut wood drifted through the open window.

I walked closer and ended up just a foot from him.

We stood facing each other, close enough that I could see a scar on his chin that looked as if it had been there for a long time.

His Adam's apple moved with a deep swallow, and suddenly, it seemed we were both holding back, holding back from touching each other. I swallowed too.

"Fin, I'm working on it. It's been a long time coming, but I appreciated the call. It reminded me that there are people who are worth knowing, people worth trusting."

His self-control broke first. He reached for my hand, and I pushed it willingly into his grip. "You can trust me, Shay. Just say the word and I'll be there to help."

We stayed that way, our gazes locked and our hands together until heavy footsteps hit the steps outside.

Reluctantly, he let go of my hand and stepped back.

Colt walked in. Our gazes remained locked, and it felt like a hurricane of energy had passed between us.

The tension snapped in two as he looked away.

"Morning, Shay," Colt said. His smile was always gracious and friendly. "Did Fin tell you about pizza Friday?" He looked at Fin, and there seemed to be a silent exchange of something that had nothing to do with pizza.

"He did and I'm all in. Thank you. I'll get right on that list you left me." I turned and walked back to my desk. I could still feel Fin's strong hand wrapped around mine as I sat down to start my work.