Page 11 of Griffin (Pecan Pines #3)

Chapter 11

Michael

I shifted slightly onto my side to face Griffin, careful not to move too much because of how close he was—his arm draped over me, his solid warmth pressing against my back. It felt like he’d been molded perfectly to fit against me.

Whenever I stayed over, every morning I’d wake up just before him, savoring how peaceful these moments were.

His dark blond hair would shimmer in the morning light, with hints of gold. I reached out, brushing a stray strand from his face. And every time, like clockwork, he’d stir, lips twitching into a faint smile.

“Are you streaming tonight? What time do you want me to come over?” Griffin asked.

His eyes blinked open, still soft with sleep, and I couldn’t tell if my touch had tickled him awake or if he just liked it when I touched him.

It was simple. Maybe even silly. But it had become one of my favorite parts of being with him.

Yet if he came over to my place tonight—or rather, Casey’s—I wouldn’t get to see him like this tomorrow.

I took a breath, trying to sound casual despite the sudden knot of nerves in my chest.

“No, I’ll just, uh, bring my laptop over,” I said, my voice soft but uncertain, like I was testing the waters.

Griffin raised his head slightly, his brows lifting. “You’ll do it here?”

“Yeah,” I whispered, the words barely audible. “Can I?”

His arm tightened around me, pulling me even closer. His lips brushed along the line of my jaw, planting slow, deliberate kisses that trailed down to my neck.

The rough scrape of his stubble sent shivers over my skin, and I felt the curve of his lips as he smiled against me. He was happy—so happy it was contagious, drawing a breathless laugh out of me despite myself.

Griffin shifted, his weight pressing me into the mattress as his kisses grew hungrier. He nipped lightly at the sensitive spot where my neck met my shoulder, and my breath hitched.

My fingers tangled in his hair as he kissed his way down, his other hand brushing feather-light along my sides. The teasing touch made my whole body tighten, anticipation thrumming through me.

“Why don’t you just stay here until Casey and Sawyer come back?” he murmured, his lips grazing my collarbone.

I bit down on my lower lip to stifle a groan, my head tipping back as he worked his way lower.

“You only have one or two streams left, don’t you?” he added, his voice a low rumble against my skin.

“Mm,” I managed, my voice a little too breathy. “Todd said I might have to do more.”

The moment the words left my mouth, his hand stilled, and he pulled back slightly. The shift in the air was unmistakable.

Crap. Why did I say that?

Every time Todd’s name came up, something flickered in Griffin’s eyes. I didn’t understand it.

Todd was my manager, my best friend, and the one person who had stuck with me through everything. If I couldn’t talk about work or Todd with Griffin, what else was I supposed to do?

But Griffin’s irritation always left me on edge, like I’d unknowingly stepped into a minefield. I sat up, running a hand through my hair, frustration and guilt tangling inside me.

Griffin moved away, sitting at the edge of the bed. The loss of his warmth felt like a physical ache, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d ruined the moment.

“If it’s part of my contract, I have to do it if he tells me to,” I said, my voice quiet, trying to keep the defensiveness out.

My gaze dropped to the sheets as I fidgeted with the corner of the blanket, unsure of what else to say or do.

Without a word, Griffin crossed the room, grabbing his jeans off the floor. The muscles in his back shifted as he pulled them on, his movements deliberate but tense.

After a beat, he finally spoke. “If he’s really your friend, like you say he is, he wouldn’t make you do these streams. Doesn’t he know how much this is affecting you? Because, honestly, it sounds like he’s making you do this just for a damn paycheck. Does he even care about you?”

The words hit me like a slap. My jaw tightened as I tried to keep my expression neutral. I knew Griffin wasn’t trying to hurt me, but it still stung.

Todd didn’t know exactly why I was in Pecan Pines. He didn’t know about the incident with the stalker, or why I was so reluctant to stream lately.

I’d never told him—never explained what had happened after I left him back at Cinderfield Games Con.

Todd was in the dark because I’d kept him there.

But part of me bristled at the way Griffin was talking about him. Todd wasn’t here to defend himself, and it felt wrong to just sit there and let Griffin tear him down—even if a small voice in the back of my mind whispered that he wasn’t entirely wrong.

"Don’t talk about him like you know him," I snapped.

My gaze dropped to the floor, but I pushed forward anyway. "The only things you know about him are what I told you that night when I broke down. You don’t know what we’ve been through together."

I stood from the bed, grabbing my clothes off the chair nearby. Griffin’s gaze was on me—I could feel it, heavy and unwavering—but I focused on getting dressed. Each movement felt stiff, weighed down by the knot tightening in my chest.

Was this my fault? Had I dug this grave myself by keeping the truth from Todd?

If he’d known about the stalker, maybe he wouldn’t have pushed me to keep streaming. Maybe Griffin wouldn’t see him this way if I hadn’t been too scared to tell the whole story.

Griffin didn’t know Todd the way I did.

He didn’t know how Todd had been there when no one else was, how he’d practically helped build my career from the ground up. Todd wasn’t perfect, but he didn’t deserve this.

A part of me wished there was a way for Griffin to understand that, for them to see each other as I did.

But the more I thought about it, the more it felt impossible—maybe because I had kept so much hidden.

"You don’t know him," I repeated, quieter this time but no less firm. My voice carried the weight of every unsaid thing I couldn’t explain to either of them. "So don’t talk about him like you do.”

"Michael—" Griffin started, his voice softer now.

I didn’t let him finish. Grabbing my bag and coat, I slung them over my shoulder in one swift motion.

"I’ll see you at work."

I didn’t look back as I walked out, even though the tension in the room was thick enough to snap. I didn’t need to see his face to know how this had gone.

I’d screwed it up. Again.

Noah waved a rag at me from across the bar. "Hey!" His voice cut through the background noise, like a splash of cold water.

I jolted, nearly knocking over the neat row of ketchup bottles I’d been refilling.

"Sorry," I muttered, steadying the bottles with one hand.

"You good?" Noah asked, his brows pinching together as he walked over.

"Yeah, just... a lot on my mind." My voice came out flat as I picked up the oversized jug of ketchup and carefully began pouring it into one of the bottles.

Noah lingered, watching me for a moment longer. His concern was palpable, but he didn’t press.

Instead, he wiped the counter nearby, his rag making small squeaks on the surface.

"Okay," he said, though the hesitation in his tone betrayed him. "Anyway, do you mind if I borrow your phone? It’s kind of urgent."

"Huh?" I blinked, realizing I’d been staring blankly at the bottle in my hand, the ketchup threatening to overflow. "Oh. Yeah, sure."

Shaking off the haze, I wiped my hand on my apron and pulled my phone from my back pocket, handing it over without a second thought.

"Thanks," Noah said, already unlocking it with a quick swipe. He drifted back toward the corner of the bar, leaving me to my task.

I went back to refilling the bottles, but my hands worked on autopilot. My thoughts, as usual, were somewhere else entirely.

I couldn’t shake the argument with Griffin from earlier. His words had burrowed under my skin, staying there like a splinter I couldn’t pull out.

I was still angry, especially because Griffin had accused Todd of pushing me to stream, completely ignoring the danger the stalker posed.

He seemed to think Todd was just using me, failing to see the real risk involved. That stung.

But then my mind wandered to my recent streams. No sign of the stalker. No creepy messages. No veiled threats.

The realization was almost a relief, like a weight I hadn’t even realized I was carrying had been lifted.

They'd probably changed their username—wouldn't be the first time. But the DMs had gone silent too.

That had never happened before, not since this nightmare had started. It was hard not to think that the stalker was satisfied, like my return to streaming had somehow appeased them.

The thought left a bitter taste in my mouth. I shuddered and pushed it aside. It was too much to deal with right now.

But that wasn’t what was eating at me most. No, the real issue was Griffin.

The truth was, the only version of Todd that Griffin knew was the one I’d shown him: the late-night rants, the venting, the moments when frustration boiled over.

Griffin only knew Todd through my complaints, through the cracks in our friendship I’d let him see.

It wasn’t fair to Todd. But then again... maybe it wasn’t entirely untrue.

My head swam, caught in an endless loop. Anger at Griffin for judging Todd. Guilt for painting Todd in such a bad light. Frustration at myself for not being able to stop any of it.

I felt like I was running in circles, and no matter what, I always ended up right back at Griffin.

Noah’s voice cut through my thoughts. “What the hell!” He was holding my phone to his ear. “I’ve been calling you for over an hour, and one phone call from Michael’s number gets you to pick up after one ring?”

My head snapped up so fast it almost hurt. Was he calling Griffin?

The front door swung open, and there he was.

"I was on my way anyway," Griffin said, his tone clipped. His eyes scanned the room, briefly landing on me before flicking back to Noah. "Don’t use his phone to call me again."

“Call Cooper back. Now.” Noah jabbed a finger at him. “He’s been calling me nonstop because he couldn’t get through to you.”

Griffin didn’t respond. His gaze lingered on me, sitting in a booth at the back of the bar, expression unreadable.

For a moment, it seemed like he might come over, but he hesitated, unsure whether he should.

Noah nudged Griffin’s shoulder with the rag, snapping him out of it. “I’m serious, Griffin. Call Cooper. Now.”

“It’ll only take a minute,” Griffin said, finally turning away. His eyes left mine only when he stepped into his small office at the back of the bar.

Noah glanced at the closed door, then shot me an apologetic look. “Did something happen between you two?” His voice softened. “Sorry about him. I don’t know what he did, but… he’s like that sometimes.”

I nodded, forcing a tight smile. “It’s alright.”

Noah looked like he wanted to press further, but he shrugged and went back to work.

A few minutes later, Griffin emerged from the office. I expected him to go straight to Noah, probably to follow up on Cooper’s call, but instead, he crossed the room and slid into the seat across from me.

“Michael,” he said, his voice low but steady.

I glanced up, startled, then quickly dropped my gaze to my hands resting on the table.

“Stop,” I said, cutting him off before he could continue.

“What I said earlier,” I began, my words coming out uneven, “it wasn’t fair to you. I never told you, but Todd doesn’t know why I’m here. He doesn’t know about the stalker, or that I’m hiding out in Pecan Pines because of it.” I took a deep breath, the weight of the admission settling heavily between us.

Griffin shifted slightly but stayed silent, letting me continue.

“He’s not trying to push me into something dangerous on purpose. He just... doesn’t know.” I sighed. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. You were just looking out for me. And—” I paused, forcing myself to meet his eyes. “I want you two to get along. Todd’s been in my life a long time, and he’s important to me. But so are you.”

Something flickered in Griffin’s expression, but he masked it quickly, giving a small nod for me to go on.

“I was thinking,” I said carefully, “I have to head to Cinderfield in a few days to sign some contracts. Maybe... you could come with me? You’d get a chance to meet him, and?—”

Griffin’s jaw tightened. “You want to go back there?”

I nodded slowly, bracing myself. “It’ll just be for a day or two. I’ll get in and out. And with you there, I’ll be fine.”

He didn’t reply right away. His gaze dropped to the table before meeting mine again, concern clear in his eyes. “Michael, what if that stalker’s still?—”

“I know,” I interrupted, keeping my voice steady. I reached across the table and gently placed my hand on his, squeezing lightly. “But didn’t you promise Casey and Sawyer you’d look after me?” I tried for a small, encouraging smile.

He exhaled sharply, running his free hand through his hair. “You’re not playing fair.”

My smile softened, but I didn’t let go. For a moment, neither of us spoke. Griffin’s expression was conflicted—protective yet hesitant.

Inside, my thoughts spun. I couldn’t shake the fragile hope that maybe this could work.

Todd and Griffin both meant so much to me, in completely different ways. I didn’t want to keep them at odds, and I didn’t want either of them to misunderstand the other because of me.

Griffin leaned forward slightly, his grip tightening on my hand. His voice softened. “Alright. I’ll go.”

Relief flooded through me, and I nodded, offering him a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he muttered, though the faintest smile tugged at the corner of his lips.