Page 13 of Griffin (Pecan Pines #3)

Chapter 13

Michael

I leaned back in my seat, watching the road stretch endlessly ahead of us. The steady hum of the engine filled the quiet between us, a comfortable sound that somehow made the silence feel less heavy.

Griffin had been quieter than usual since we left, his attention split between the road and whatever thoughts were pulling at his expression.

It was like there was a weight on him I couldn’t quite name.

I didn’t press. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, more like an unspoken agreement between us.

Every now and then, I found myself glancing at him. There was something grounding about being next to him—his hands steady on the wheel, his jaw relaxing just a little as he drove.

“How’s your dad?” I asked, breaking the quiet with a question I’d been meaning to ask for a while.

“He looked good yesterday,” Griffin answered. “Had a little more color.”

I nodded, smiling at the subtle change in his tone when he spoke about his dad. It was small, but I noticed it—the way his eyes softened, the tension that left his shoulders.

His dad’s health had been weighing on him a lot. I felt a flicker of concern for Griffin, wanting to make sure he was holding up okay, too.

Before I could stop myself, I added, “I’d like to meet him one day.”

Heat rushed to my neck, and I cleared my throat, suddenly aware of how forward I’d sounded.

Had I just overstepped? The words had come out too easily, and now I wasn’t sure if I’d said too much.

Griffin glanced at me for a second, his lips curving into a small smile. “He’d like that.”

His voice was soft, but there was something in it that made my chest feel lighter.

The rest of the drive passed in the same comfortable silence. For a second, I thought about asking Griffin to turn the car around, to head back to Pecan Pines instead.

The thought of driving all the way to Cinderfield felt suddenly exhausting. But I didn’t. There were things I needed to do.

Still, the idea of getting things done quickly and maybe even making it back to Pecan Pines in time for dinner made me wish he’d hit the gas.

When the city skyline came into view, I leaned forward, pointing to a street corner a block away. “You can drop me off here.”

Griffin frowned. “I thought you wanted me to meet him?”

“I do,” I said quickly. “It’s just... hard to find parking around here.” I waved vaguely toward the next street. “I’ll head in, grab us a table, and you can park along Sixth. It’s only a couple of blocks down.”

His brow arched, clearly skeptical. Honestly, I couldn’t blame him.

But I needed to meet Todd first—get the business stuff out of the way before bringing Griffin into the mix.

Todd was a good guy, but sometimes... he could be intense.

Like the time at a networking event where I met other streamers after the whole mess with Shawn last year. Todd had hovered, stepping in whenever he thought someone was getting too pushy or overly familiar.

I appreciated his protectiveness, but it could get suffocating. And I wanted today to go smoothly.

“Hey,” I said, trying to lighten the mood with a grin. “It’s probably packed since it’s close to lunchtime. Just park, and I’ll grab us a table. I’ll even order you something nice. By the time you get there, a plate’ll already be waiting for you.”

Griffin glanced at the rearview mirror, his fingers tightening briefly on the gear shift when a car honked behind us. He clearly wasn’t thrilled, but he didn’t argue.

“Just get me whatever you’re having,” he muttered.

I laughed. “You sure? You know I’m going for the greasiest thing on the menu.”

“Whatever,” he said, but the corner of his mouth twitched into a barely-there smile.

I watched until he drove toward the street I’d pointed out, then headed into the burger joint where Todd was waiting.

The warm scent of grilled meat and fries hit me immediately, comforting yet overwhelming as my stomach churned with nerves.

This wasn’t where I’d have chosen to meet, but Todd had insisted—close to his place, convenient for him. After everything I’d put him through, I didn’t push back.

The place was a mix of families, couples, and the occasional lone diner. I scanned the room until I spotted him—Todd sitting in the corner by the window.

He was already watching me, posture casual but his expression unreadable. He stood as I approached, gesturing to the chair across from him.

“Sit,” he said, his tone brisk but controlled.

I felt a flicker of unease. Was he angry? Disappointed? Hurt?

I slid into the seat and forced myself to meet his gaze. His expression gave nothing away.

The waiter appeared just then, and without thinking, I ordered two meals.

“Someone’s hungry,” Todd remarked, his voice flat.

Crap. I didn’t want him to find out this way.

I forced a laugh, scrambling to recover. “Oh, uh, it’s not all for me. I brought someone with me. You don’t mind, do you?”

Something flickered across his face—irritation?

It was gone so fast I almost wondered if I imagined it. His smile returned, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Do I know them?” His voice was calm, yet there was an edge to it.

“No,” I said too quickly, the word rushing out as I pasted on a smile. “I met him in... well...”

“Wherever you were hiding out from your stalker?”

The air seemed to go still. I froze, caught between denial and panic. “What?”

Todd leaned back slightly, his gaze never wavering. “Come on, Michael. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice? The sudden trip, the way you’ve been acting...” He shook his head. “I put two and two together.”

My first instinct was to deny it, brush it off as a coincidence or a lucky guess. But then I really looked at him—saw the exhaustion etched into his face, the hollow look in his eyes.

He didn’t look good. He looked worn down. After all, I had left him to pick up the pieces when I skipped town.

I grabbed my water, taking a long gulp to buy some time. When I set it down, Todd reached across the table, his hand covering mine.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice gentler now. “I’m not mad. I get it. You panicked. But you should’ve told me. We could’ve handled this together.”

“I didn’t know what I was doing,” I admitted. “I just... needed to get out.”

Todd’s grip tightened slightly, his fingers warm but trembling faintly. His gaze locked onto mine, steady but filled with something I hadn’t seen before—vulnerability, maybe even desperation.

“You didn’t have to do it alone,” he said. “You’ve always had me, Michael. I’ve been here through everything. You know that, right?”

A heavy wave of guilt settled in my chest. What if I hadn’t left? What if I’d stayed in Cinderfield and leaned on Todd like I used to?

Would things have turned out differently? But then, another thought, sharper and more insistent, sliced through the fog.

Leaving had brought me to Griffin—someone who made me feel safe in a way I hadn’t in years.

“I’m sorry,” I said after a long pause, my voice thick. “I should’ve told you. Why I left, that I had been at Casey’s the entire time. I know that now. But it wasn’t just about running away. I think I needed that break, Todd. And honestly, I think it was good for me.”

I tried to pull my hand back, but Todd’s grip didn’t loosen. Instead, his fingers curled tighter, the tremor in his hand more noticeable now.

When I looked up, the mask he’d been wearing slipped, revealing something raw underneath.

“Come back here,” he said, his voice low and almost pleading. “We can handle this stalker together. You and me, like always. Just... come back.”

The rawness in his tone sent a chill down my spine. Todd, who had always been the steady one, the rock I leaned on, was starting to unravel.

His gaze never left mine, intense and unrelenting, and for the first time, I saw a side of him I hadn’t recognized before.

I blinked at him, unsure what to say. My throat tightened as I tried to form a response, my hand twitching beneath his grip.

“I—” I started, gently trying to pull my hand away again.

“Everything okay here?”

Griffin’s voice cut through the moment. His gaze swept over the table, lingering on our hands still entwined.

I shot up from my seat, yanking my hand back as naturally as I could. “Hey! Uh… how was parking?” The words tumbled out too brightly.

Griffin raised an eyebrow, his eyes flicking to Todd before he answered. “It was fine.”

Todd’s fingers curled into a loose fist against the table, his smile tight. He didn’t say a word, but the sudden tension between them was palpable.

“Sit,” I said quickly, pulling out the chair beside me for Griffin.

Griffin didn’t hesitate, but Todd didn’t acknowledge him—no words, no nod.

His cold, assessing gaze stayed locked on Griffin, unblinking. It was a side of Todd I wasn’t used to seeing.

Clearing my throat, I gestured awkwardly between them. “Griffin, this is Todd.”

“Nice to meet you.” Todd’s response was slow. He barely acknowledged Griffin before extending his hand, almost as an afterthought.

“Likewise,” Griffin said simply, shaking Todd’s hand firmly before letting go.

This was already going downhill.

I glanced at Griffin, silently pleading with him to behave, as though sheer willpower could turn my thoughts telepathic.

Be nice. Please, please be nice.

Griffin slid into the chair beside me, his arm resting lightly around my shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze.

“Are you okay?” Griffin asked, leaning in.

My heart lurched, and I froze. Was he about to kiss me?

Instinctively, I straightened, nearly knocking over my water glass. I grabbed it, taking another long, deliberate sip, keeping my eyes down and away from both of them.

I knew Todd was already sizing us up, and I couldn’t help feeling like the last thing I needed was a kiss to make things more complicated.

Griffin leaned back, his expression shifting—not unreadable this time, but careful.

The tightness in his jaw eased, replaced by a flicker of something softer. Understanding, maybe?

Even so, there was a shadow of disappointment in the way his shoulders dropped, like he’d already decided not to push.

I hated that I’d pulled away. The thought nagged at me as I stared into my glass.

Before I could fumble an apology or make the moment worse, the waiter arrived, placing our plates on the table and breaking the tension.

“Oh! The food’s here!” I blurted, way too loudly. The waiter flinched but recovered quickly, giving me a polite smile.

Mental note to self: tip the waiter generously. For the excellent timing, for diffusing whatever the hell had been brewing at our table, and for not outwardly reacting to my embarrassing outburst.

“Looks good,” Griffin said, his tone steady and calm as he picked up his burger.

“Pickles?” I asked, already reaching for my fork to transfer the slices to his plate, as I always did.

Before I could, Griffin reached over and plucked a pickle from my plate with a faint smirk. “Missed one.”

I suddenly realized Todd hadn’t said anything for a while.

He was watching us, his gaze lingering on Griffin, his mouth pressed into a thin line.

“I never knew you didn’t like pickles,” Todd said, his tone casual, but the sharp edge in his words gave him away.

“Oh, yeah,” I replied with a small, nervous laugh. “I mean, I’ll eat them if I have to, but I’d rather not.”

Todd exhaled sharply. His gaze didn’t leave Griffin, the irritation in his eyes was clear now.

Reaching into the folder he’d brought, Todd slapped a stack of papers onto the table. “Anyway, here are the contracts you need to sign.”

I barely had time to pick up my burger before setting it down again. “Oh, right. Of course.”

As I skimmed the paperwork, everything looked pretty standard—just a basic contract requiring my signature. Nothing unusual.

In fact, it was the kind Todd usually emailed to me.

“So... this contract—it’s pretty standard, huh?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Todd replied with a nod. “I know I could’ve just emailed it to you, but I wanted to see you. See if you were alright. That’s okay, isn’t it?”

The way he phrased it made it impossible to say no. What could I even say?

No, actually, it’s not okay, and it’s kind of weird that I came all this way for something you could’ve just sent online?

Yeah, right. That wouldn’t go over well.

“I mean, yeah, of course,” I said, nodding again.

Next to me, Griffin shifted in his chair. He looked calm on the surface, but the sharp glare he fixed on Todd told a different story.

It wasn’t outright anger, but the simmering annoyance was unmistakable. I knew he could sense my discomfort and wasn’t thrilled about the source.

I signed the contract and handed it back to Todd. He gave it a quick once-over before tucking it neatly into his folder.

“And here’s the bag you asked for,” Todd said, reaching under the table to pull out a small duffel bag.

“Oh, right!” I’d almost forgotten about it. I asked Todd to help me grab some things I hadn’t been able to pack before leaving.

I unzipped the bag and peeked inside. “You got everything I asked for. Thanks!”

Todd glanced at the open bag and let out a small laugh. “Didn’t know you still had those old college t-shirts.”

I pulled one out instinctively, smiling at the faded design. “Yeah, I wear them almost every night.”

Todd chuckled again. “Practically rags now, huh? Why don’t you throw them out? Saw you’ve got better ones.”

I laughed, trying to keep the mood light. “No way. These are too comfy.”

Beside me, Griffin shifted again, and this time I didn’t need to look to feel the tension rolling off him in waves.

Todd’s comment had clearly struck a nerve—implying he’d gone through my clothes? Yeah, that’d do it.

I reached under the table and tapped Griffin’s thigh lightly. A subtle it’s fine, don’t react signal. But the muscles beneath my fingers were tight.

Todd’s gaze flicked downward, catching the movement, and a smirk spread across his face.

“Why don’t I give you some of mine?” Todd offered, his voice smooth, almost amused. “Just as comfy, but not as, you know... threadbare.”

The air at the table felt like it had shifted, heavier and charged.

Griffin’s thigh twitched under my hand. I slid my palm down slightly and gave his leg a reassuring squeeze.

Todd’s smirk only widened.

My chest tightened. What had I been thinking, letting them meet?

It was like putting a lit match near a gas leak and hoping it wouldn’t blow.