Page 3 of Griffin (Pecan Pines #3)

Chapter 3

Michael

M y fingers tapped restlessly on the edge of the windowsill, keeping a nervous beat as I stared blankly out the bus window.

The scenery was a blur of dark greens and grays as trees and road signs whipped by, blending together as we sped along the highway.

My seat was cramped, with my oversized backpack wedged between my knees, and my left leg had long gone numb. I shifted, trying to make just a little more room, but it didn’t help much.

After what had happened last night, Casey hadn’t given me much of a choice.

“Get out, now. Move fast and only take what you need,” he’d insisted.

So here I was, on this crowded bus, following his orders to a T. I hadn’t even slept a wink since everything went down.

The whole night had been a jittery blur. I was half-convinced that the stalker would somehow burst into my hotel room.

The paranoia made it impossible to close my eyes. When I finally called Casey, I wasn’t even sure my words made sense.

I was sleep-deprived, anxious, barely keeping it together—but I managed to get across what he needed to know.

Everything but the stranger who helped me, though. That part felt… unnecessary, or maybe just too weird to explain.

The next bus to Pecan Pines—that was Casey’s idea. He kept saying I shouldn’t do anything “predictable.”

Normally, I’d have driven myself, packed a proper suitcase instead of this stuffed backpack that weighed a ton.

Gaming laptops aren’t cheap, after all.

But Casey’s idea of a low profile had its limits. He suggested I wear a hoodie and sweatpants to blend in, but honestly?

Everyone knows that’s what someone who’s trying to hide wears.

And I’d worn hoodies plenty of times on streams, so my stalker could probably pick me out in one from a mile away.

Instead, I went for something totally out of character—khaki pants, a red sweatshirt, and a baseball cap instead of my usual blues and grays. Hopefully, it’d be enough to throw anyone off the scent.

Keeping this trip quiet was a whole other problem. Casey had warned me not to tell a soul, but if I just disappeared, Todd would flip.

He was my manager, after all. I had to say something to him, especially since I’d ignored his calls and texts all night.

Finally, when he showed up at my room while I was packing, I lied and told him I just needed a break, a few days to recharge.

“I’ll keep up with my streams and the sponsored ones,” I promised, knowing he could tell something was off.

The look on his face nearly broke me—concern mixed with a kind of disappointment.

It stung to lie to him, and there was a second where I almost caved, wanting to just tell him everything.

But Casey’s voice echoed in my head: Don’t tell anyone. It’s safer that way.

So here I was, hunched into this sticky bus seat, my back pressed against the window with my giant backpack wedged between my legs.

I glanced to my right, where a guy was sprawled out, snoring loud enough to drown out the bus engine.

He was hogging the armrest, his elbow jutting into my space. Far from ideal, but strangely, I felt a little relief.

Here, I was anonymous. No one cared who I was or why I was hiding behind a baseball cap.

I wasn’t “Michael, the gamer,” or anyone else who mattered—I was just some guy headed to a small town.

Maybe Casey was right; maybe this could be my chance to disappear.

Maybe, in its own messed-up way, this was the break I’d been looking for. The “holiday” I never expected.

This “holiday” was off to a rough start. To put it mildly, the bus ride had already been a headache.

It began with a breakdown on the freeway that kept us stranded for almost an hour.

Then, the guy next to me nearly puked from all the jolting, barely making it to the restroom in time.

And now? Casey had told me to meet him at some bar instead of his pet grooming shop.

I’d actually been looking forward to finally seeing his shop—a quiet spot where we could catch up and maybe sneak in some playtime with a few dogs.

But apparently, Casey got tied up, so here I was, dragging my tired self into this bar.

The lighting was dim, the music a little too upbeat for my mood, but at least it was warm inside.

I slumped into a corner booth, trying to wedge my backpack onto the floor, and opened my notebook.

“What can I get you?” The waiter’s voice broke through my thoughts. I glanced up, finally registering his presence.

“Beer, thanks,” I muttered, not bothering to make eye contact.

As I sat there, tapping my pen against the notebook, I tried to push away the tight knot in my shoulders.

This was a holiday , I reminded myself. A holiday.

Because that sounded better than hiding out from a stalker who’d been haunting me for months.

No matter what Casey said about laying low and staying off the grid, I planned to treat this like a genuine break.

This time was about getting back on my feet, pretending nothing happened that night—even if deep down, I knew it was only a matter of time until he showed up again.

I just had to be ready when it happened.

The waiter set a beer down in front of me, along with a small basket of peanuts.

I gave a quick nod of thanks, glancing down at the list I’d started on my notebook. A simple “To-Do” was scribbled at the top.

Number one: Exercise more.

This break wouldn’t last forever, I knew that.

Sooner or later, I’d have to get back to work, which meant streaming.

Contracts, sponsorships, fans—it all added up to a career that wouldn’t wait around just because I needed a breather.

If I was treating this like a game, it was time to level up.

Not just for my fans or Todd, but for me. And that meant staying one step ahead of my stalker.

Training mode engaged.

I had to get stronger, faster. Boost my stamina.

If this guy wanted to be the relentless monster haunting my life, I’d make sure I was ready to face him.

No respawns, no do-overs. I’d only get one shot. And next time, when I see him? I’d be ready to outrun him.

Number two: Eat healthier.

Or maybe just remember to eat at all. A decent meal could’ve kept me from acting like a complete fool that night.

Kissing some random guy in the middle of all that panic? Not exactly my proudest moment.

I didn’t even know his name, but when he’d helped me get that cab and made sure I got back to my hotel, my brain just short-circuited.

Next thing I knew, I was kissing him. I blamed the hunger and exhaustion.

Number three: Don’t kiss strangers.

I cringed, heat rising in my cheeks as I scribbled over the memory. Yeah, this definitely needs to be on the list.

It wasn’t like me to act on impulse like that. What made me even do that?

Was it the way his hand had held mine—steady and reassuring? Like he wouldn’t let go until he knew I was alright?

His arm was solid and close, anchoring me in the chaos. He’d been the one constant, even if it was only for that one night.

And somehow, my brain had misfired and decided to add my lips into the equation.

I shook my head, taking a large drink of my beer to push the heat from my cheeks.

I must’ve looked like an idiot, throwing myself at him like that. Humiliating.

There was no way I’d let myself act like that again. I could barely think about it without wincing.

All I could hope for was that I’d never see him again.

Stick to the plan , I told myself, focusing back on the list. Get healthy. Forget that random stranger.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the bar, and for just a split second, I thought I saw him—the guy from that night.

My heart kicked up, and I blinked, forcing myself to breathe.

No , I told myself. It wasn’t him. It couldn’t be.

It was just some guy who looked a little like him. I grabbed a peanut from the bowl, pretending I hadn’t just been staring.

The booth seat beside me dipped, pulling me out of my thoughts, and I turned to see Casey sliding in with that familiar grin, already leaning over to peek at my notebook.

“What’re you writing so seriously?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

I snapped the notebook shut, sliding it back into my backpack.

“Very classified stuff,” I said, a smile spreading across my face. “If I told you, I’d have to—” I trailed off, grinning playfully.

Casey rolled his eyes, leaning in to wrap me in a quick hug.

The familiar warmth settled some of my nerves, reminding me why I’d wanted to come here in the first place. It had been way too long.

Just then, a guy who’d been hovering by the table clapped Casey on the shoulder. “I’ll grab us some drinks,” he said, giving me a quick nod. “You want another?”

I shook my head. “Nah, I’m good. Thanks.”

As he walked off, I raised an eyebrow at Casey. “So… I’m guessing that’s Sawyer?”

Casey nodded, his gaze lingering on Sawyer as he disappeared into the crowd.

His expression softened before he turned back to me. But then his face shifted to something more serious.

“Listen, I’m sorry for making you come all the way out here. This wasn’t exactly how I pictured it going, but…” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking a little uncomfortable. “Earlier, Sawyer surprised me with a trip. We’re leaving tonight.”

I blinked, taken aback. “Wait, what? And what am I supposed to do here while you’re off… what, snorkeling or something?” I tried to keep my voice light, but the frustration slipped through, and Casey picked up on it immediately.

He held up a hand, his expression apologetic. “Look, it’s just for a few days. You can stay at my place—make yourself comfortable. And…” He glanced around, hesitating. “Sawyer asked a friend of his to look after you, keep an eye out. Just in case.”

I scoffed, raking my fingers through my hair. “Look after me? I’m not some kid…”

The words tumbled out before I could stop them, and I started grabbing my backpack, ready to bolt. “I don’t need a babysitter, Case. I shouldn’t have even come here.”

Before I could leave, Casey’s hand landed firmly on my arm, stopping me. “Michael, sit down, okay? What, you’d rather have stayed back in the city, waiting until that weirdo followed you all the way from the convention to your apartment?”

The words hit harder than I expected, cooling my frustration. He wasn’t wrong.

Maybe the bus ride here had been rough, and yeah, my first few hours in Pecan Pines hadn’t been exactly smooth, but… that gnawing feeling, like someone was following me, hadn’t crept up since I’d arrived.

For the first time in months, I felt something close to normal.

I crossed my arms and took a long sip of my beer, sighing under my breath. Maybe he’s right. Maybe being here isn’t so bad.

Casey leaned back, visibly relieved. “He’s a good guy, Sawyer’s friend. He even said he could give you a job here if you’re interested, something to keep you busy while you’re here.”

I blinked, surprised. “Work? Here? At a bar?” I narrowed my eyes, sensing a setup. “Casey, I already have a job, remember?”

He didn’t back down. “I know, but you’re planning to lay low, right? Only stream when absolutely necessary?”

I mumbled, “...Yeah,” reluctantly nodding.

“So you’ll have a little extra free time on your hands.” He kept his hand on my arm, anchoring me to the booth, and I could feel the weight of his gaze.

When I glanced up, I met his eyes. His knowing look was all too familiar.

Casey had a point—if I didn’t keep myself occupied, I’d obsess over the stalker, spiraling into paranoia, jumping at shadows.

Leave it to my big brother to anticipate everything, even if he couldn’t be around himself.

Not that I planned to let him off too easily. “You know, I thought we’d at least hang out for a few days, maybe do something normal for a change. But no, you’re ditching me for some fancy trip with your boyfriend,” I teased, only half-joking.

Despite myself, a little disappointment crept in.

Casey’s face softened, and he looked genuinely sorry. “I know. It wasn’t planned, but… he wanted to surprise me.” He gave me a small, guilty smile. “Believe me, if it weren’t something special, I’d be right here with you.” His hand gave my arm a comforting squeeze.

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t suppress the faint smile tugging at my lips. “Fine. Guess I’ll survive without you.”

As I looked around the bar, my gaze wandered to the small stage where the band was finishing up a song.

The lead singer’s tousled blond hair and rugged look tugged at a memory, almost like I’d seen him somewhere before.

My brow furrowed as I tried to place him, and then it clicked—he looked like the guy from the cab that night. Almost, but not quite.

I took another sip of my beer, forcing my gaze down. Why was I still thinking about him?

First, I thought I’d seen him behind the bar earlier, and now here he was, the lead singer.

It was ridiculous. I shook my head, trying to brush it off.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sawyer making his way back to our booth, and behind him, the same familiar face was following close.

My stomach twisted, half-excitement, half-warning.

The closer he got, the more certain I became—it was him.

My heart pounded. What were the chances he’d be here? It didn’t add up.

The universe seemed to be mocking me, throwing him in my path just as I’d decided to lay low.

And worse—I wasn’t sure I could actually look him in the eye, let alone act normal.

Maybe he wouldn’t remember me , I reasoned, trying to steady myself.

It had been dark that night, and I’d barely looked him in the eye before bolting.

But as he neared the table, our gazes locked—a brief flash of recognition that he masked almost immediately.

He looked away, feigning indifference, and my heart sank a little.

So, he did remember.

Sawyer gestured between us. “This is Griffin. Griffin, Michael.”

There was a charge in the air as we stared each other down, both of us waiting.

I half-expected him to say something—a sly comment, a subtle jab that hinted he remembered that night.

Part of me wanted him to. But all I got was an unreadable expression, nothing to suggest he cared either way.

He broke the silence first, sliding into the booth across from me and mumbling a barely audible, “Nice to meet you.”

Sawyer nudged him, rolling his eyes. “Don’t mind him; he’s just tired. Just got back from a trip.”

I managed a nod, struggling to hide the swarm of nerves buzzing under my skin.

He looked good—annoyingly so—and I hated that a guy I barely knew could get under my skin like this.

But my brain was on high alert, every instinct screaming for an escape.

Why hadn’t he said anything? Was he embarrassed?

Or maybe he wanted to forget it ever happened, just like I did.

Either way, I felt a blush creeping up my neck, and the urge to leave twisted in my gut.

This was too much. Working here? Being around him?

With the way my heart seemed to lose its rhythm every time he looked at me? No way.

There had to be some way out of this. Maybe if I acted—I don’t know, unpredictable or just plain out of my element—Griffin would tell Casey I couldn’t handle it.

Or maybe he’d fire me himself. There was no way I’d tell Casey the real reason I couldn’t work here.

He’d press, and eventually, I’d have to explain everything. No. It was my mess, one I didn’t want to drag him into.

But then, Griffin’s gaze drifted my way again, and before I knew it, I was staring back, my face betraying everything.

The pull was there, undeniable, and it terrified me—because if I couldn’t even get through this first meeting, how the hell was I supposed to survive day after day, pretending like nothing had happened?