Page 22 of Griffin (Stone Brothers #5)

TWENTY

SHAY

M y emotions were at a fever pitch. I'd started something with a man who I couldn't stop thinking about.

I could still feel Griffin touching me. My lips were so swollen from his kisses, I had to ice them just to put on lipstick.

This morning, I did three pirouettes through the living room before I could even stop my feet.

I still had so much to deal with, but now I had a reason to deal with all of it.

I'd been popped clear of the terrible dreary funk I'd been in for years, the funk that told me to just be happy when he's gone and deal with the rest one day at a time.

But I was done living a half-life. I wanted the whole thing.

Tate had gotten out of the habit of calling and texting while he was on the road.

He knew I didn't care where he was or what he was doing, and he didn't feel enough connection back home to bother.

He mentioned something about this being a two-week job, but I always gave myself a conservative estimate of his return, so I'd be ready for it and I could brace myself.

With any luck, he'd be gone the full two weeks.

I picked up my phone to glance at the news while I sipped my cup of coffee.

It seemed the internet and social media world were on fire with stories about the popular influencer who'd gone missing.

Roxi Carhill, better known to her fans, as the Banana Bandana because of her signature yellow bandana, had been recently left alone in Zion by her longtime partner, Toby Barron, and after losing contact with her for a few days, her family sent the rangers out to check on her.

They'd found her famous traveling van but no sign of Roxi.

I put the phone down. The tone of the article sounded grim as if the reporters were already getting the impression from authorities that they were expecting the worst. I had to admit, it didn't sound promising for Roxi, and she certainly wouldn't be the first famous woman to die tragically at the hands of her lover.

Either that or she was just creating a news sensation to stay relevant. It was hard to know.

I glanced at the time on my phone. I decided to get to work early to catch up on a few paperwork items before Colt added things to my to-do list. He kept me busy and I loved it.

Feeling productive was like a big high for me.

I'd been without work for a few months, and the despair I felt from being unemployed had dragged me lower than usual.

Tate hadn't brought up finding another job again, but then we'd hardly exchanged one word during his short time at home.

We'd grown entirely apart, and I couldn't wait to be completely free of the man.

A blue autumn sky blanketed the town. The coastal fog rarely reached inland, but the air was still chilly. I buttoned my coat and climbed into the car. My phone buzzed before I pulled out of the driveway. I smiled at the name Greta on the screen. One day soon I'd be switching it out for Griffin.

"Morning, ballerina, thought about you all night."

"Really? I've hardly given you any thought at all," I texted back.

"Ouch."

"My lips are so swollen, I look like a clown."

"You're welcome. See you soon, my beautiful clown."

I pulled onto the road, and, swollen or not, I couldn't tamp down the smile I was wearing.

When I got the job with Stone Construction, I was thrilled, but I never expected it to entirely change my life.

A notion was taking place solidly in my mind that I would ask Tate for a divorce when he got back from this latest job.

I had no idea how he'd react. It could go any direction with Tate.

It could be disastrous and frightening, or maybe, just maybe, he'd nod and say yes.

I knew that was probably a farfetched scenario, but Tate knew we were through.

It wouldn't be a big shock. He knew that I hated everything about him, and I was sure he felt the same way.

He'd kept me around as a home base caretaker, someone to do his laundry, cook his meals and take care of the house while he was away.

I was more a convenience than a wife, but I was done playing that role.

I turned the corner and drove past the cemetery.

I missed seeing Annie, so when I spotted her and her yellow roses walking into the cemetery, I pulled over and parked.

She had no idea I was behind her, and I stayed quiet for a moment while I waited for her to touch her daughter's gravestone and say a few words.

She arranged the roses in the vase next to the other roses.

There was a full bouquet sitting next to the grave marker.

I headed toward her, but she didn't hear me approach. Not wanting to startle her, I stopped a few plots over. "Annie," I said quietly.

She looked up. Her features were crinkled with grief, and I realized I knew very little about her daughter's death.

I'd been so absorbed in my own misery; I hadn't taken the time to dip into hers.

And she'd gone out of her way to impart tiny morsels of advice, not in a ham-handed way but subtly and with finesse because she knew too well what I was dealing with.

It took Annie a moment to figure out who I was. A smile broke free. "Shay, how are you? What on earth are you doing out here?"

I walked over and glanced down at the stone.

It took me a second to get over the shock of seeing the dates on the gravestone.

Nina was only twelve when she died. I'd settled in my mind that she'd died recently as an adult and that Annie had at least had a nice long time with her, but twelve short years was hard to fathom.

"I was on my way to work, and I saw you walking through the gates. I've got my car today so no bus. I miss talking to you."

Annie's trembling fingers reached out to take hold of my hand.

"I miss talking to you as well, my dear.

" She looked back down at the grave and the bright flowers.

"It's probably ridiculous that I've been coming here every morning for thirty years, but it helps me deal with the loss, the guilt, the regrets. "

"She was so young," I said. I felt tears prick my eyes. Poor Annie had grieved so long. Most of the graves had no flowers. Flowers and visits usually slowed down after a few years but Nina's grave had never gone without her favorite beautiful roses.

Annie held my hand and led me over to a stone bench just across the path from the grave. "Let's sit. This cold weather is doing such a number on my knees," Annie said.

We sat down, and Annie spent a few moments buttoning up her coat.

"My Nina loved horses. Like so many young girls.

" Annie chuckled. "Her room was covered with posters, and every book on her shelf was about horses.

Twice a year, I took her to the local stables to ride, and she would be beaming sitting up in that saddle.

Her dream was to ride a beautiful horse in a parade.

" Annie patted my hand. "I don't want you to be late for work. "

"I left my house early, so I've got time."

"I waited too long." She said it so quietly that the words nearly got lost even in the eerie silence of the cemetery.

"It was always me. He'd always directed his temper at me.

I was always the target, and, stupidly, I thought, well, as long as he doesn't go after Nina, I can take what he's dishing out.

But Nina had reached that preteen stage—" Annie smiled thinking about it.

"That's when kids start to get opinions of their own.

I was in the kitchen, cowering from his hard fists.

He'd already smashed a hole in the cupboard above my head, and I was sure my face was next.

Somewhere in my cloud of terror, I heard the front door open and shut.

Nina had gotten home from school. She walked in on us and started screaming at her dad.

It all happened so fast." Annie paused to pull out a handkerchief.

It had tiny violets embroidered on it. She wiped her nose.

"He shoved her, and she flew back. She wasn't a big girl.

She used to get so mad because she was a preteen, but we still had to shop in the kid's section for her clothes.

She fell against the corner of the tile counter.

The whole scene is still as horrifyingly clear as it was that day.

She crumpled to the ground, and in seconds she was lying in a pool of blood.

The examiner said she died on impact. It was the first time I saw him look contrite, scared.

His face was gray as the police put on the cuffs.

I spent the next few days trying to find ways to take my own life, but, eventually, I used the months he was behind bars to pack up my life and leave.

" Annie looked over at me. "Don't wait too long. " She squeezed my hand.

I nodded. Her story had left me numb. It was a horror story that no one should ever have to endure and yet, after living with Tate all these years, I knew it was one that played out in reality far too often.

"I won't," I said. "I'm making a plan, and you helped inspire it."

She smiled softly and clutched her handkerchief tightly in her hand. We both sat and watched a gentle breeze push the roses back and forth. It looked as if they were swaying in unison to some silent tune, then I leaned over and kissed her cheek. "I'll see you later, Annie."

"Yes. Have a nice day."

"You too." I walked back to my car. It took me a few minutes to force myself to put the key in the ignition. As I drove off, I watched as Annie pushed off the bench and shuffled back to her daughter's grave.