Page 5 of Griffin (Pecan Pines #3)

Chapter 5

Michael

I wasn’t sure how long I’d been standing by the bar’s exit, staring blankly at the door Griffin had just stormed through.

Only when someone jostled me, muttering an irritated “Excuse me,” did I snap out of it and step aside.

What had just happened? One moment, I’d been checking out this signed baseball, admiring it up close.

Then the next, it somehow slipped from my fingers.

The shattering sound seemed louder than the music, louder than the crowd.

And when I looked up, Griffin’s face had been a mix of anger and something else—shock, maybe—before he walked away.

My chest thudded with a painful, unfamiliar ache that I didn’t quite understand.

Another person bumped into me, and I finally moved out of the way, catching sight of Noah kneeling down behind the bar, sweeping up the glass shards and picking up the baseball.

I quickly rushed over.

“Noah—I’m so sorry. Please, let me help,” I blurted out.

“It’s fine,” he said with a small smile. “Just watch out for the glass.”

His tone was gentle, but his eyes told a different story.

He was crouched low, picking up each shard carefully, as though he could somehow salvage the display case if he was careful enough.

I wanted to say more, but the words just wouldn’t come.

I replayed the scene in my head, feeling that same throb in my chest.

Whatever that baseball had meant to Griffin and Noah, it was clearly more than just a piece of bar décor.

Once Noah placed the last piece of glass on the counter, he straightened up and patted my shoulder.

“Don’t worry. It was just an accident, right? Besides, you just got here today, didn’t you? You’re probably exhausted. No idea why Griff threw you in like this on your first night.” He chuckled softly, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

I watched as he picked up the baseball, inspecting it with a faint frown, his thumb brushing over the scuffed surface.

“It’s our dad’s,” he said, his voice quieter. “He’s not doing too well right now, and Griff’s… well, he’s taking it hard.”

“Oh.” The word barely felt like enough.

I twisted the rag in my hands, feeling the fabric dig into my palm as the weight of what I’d done sank in.

It was an accident, but the more I thought about it, the less it felt like that was enough of an excuse.

I felt the need to make things right somehow, to apologize.

“Noah… do you, um, know where he went?” I asked.

Noah’s expression wavered, like he wasn’t sure if he should tell me or not.

“Please,” I added, almost whispering.

I didn’t know why I felt so strongly about this—only that I needed to make things right.

He sighed, then said reluctantly, “He’s probably at the hospital, visiting Dad. But I don’t know if you should?—”

I didn’t wait to hear the rest. I slipped out of the bar, quickly dialing a taxi before I could change my mind.

As the taxi headed toward the hospital, a spiral of self-blame churned in my mind.

I wasn’t usually this clumsy. Why did I always feel so off around Griffin?

It was like I couldn’t even trust myself to act normal. And no, what happened wasn’t just because I’d half-considered screwing up this job on purpose earlier.

Because when Griffin showed me around, the way he talked about the bar—it shifted something in me.

I could see he knew every inch of the place, from the worn wooden booths to the faded photos lining the walls, each one a piece of his history.

His whole demeanor softened as he spoke, a quiet pride and loyalty to something that was as much his family’s legacy as it was a job.

This wasn’t just any bar; it was a part of him.

And here I was, wanting to run the other way, yet feeling a pull I couldn’t explain.

Staying didn’t seem so bad after all—until I messed things up worse than I’d ever intended.

The taxi finally pulled up to the hospital entrance. I hesitated, glancing up at the building.

I didn’t even know his dad’s name, or Griffin’s last name, or if I was even at the right hospital. But I knew I just had to try.

Inside, I approached the reception desk, trying to look more confident than I felt.

The nurse glanced up from her station, giving me a warm smile. “Can I help you, dear?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m looking for my friend. I think he just got here? Tall guy, dark blond hair... Griffin?”

Her face lit up with recognition. “Oh! Yes, I know who you mean.” She paused, giving me an expectant look.

I hesitated, the lie sitting uncomfortably in my throat. “I—uh—just need to pass something along to him. It’s a... personal thing.” It sounded weak, but I pushed through, offering a half-smile as her gaze lingered.

She raised an eyebrow, then nodded, motioning down the hallway. “Alright, but he’s with his father right now, so it’d be best to wait outside the room. He’s resting, so let’s keep it quiet, okay?”

“Yeah, of course. Thank you,” I murmured, swallowing the lump in my throat.

The lie left a strange taste in my mouth, but she didn’t question it.

With a polite nod, she returned to her work, and I followed her directions, guilt tugging at me with every step.

When I reached the room she’d pointed to, I stopped just outside the door.

Through the narrow window, I spotted Griffin seated beside his dad’s hospital bed.

He leaned forward, carefully adjusting the blanket around his father’s shoulders before reaching down to hold his hand.

His thumb traced slow, deliberate circles against the man’s knuckles.

The harsh set of Griffin’s jaw was gone, replaced with a softness I hadn’t seen before—a quiet tenderness that felt like it belonged to a different side of him.

Watching him like this, something clicked. For Griffin, family wasn’t just a word; it was everything.

The bar wasn’t just a job—it was a piece of the life he’d built with his father, something he was holding onto with everything he had.

And I’d nearly wrecked that, all because I couldn’t handle my own insecurities.

A heavy pang settled in my chest as I realized I owed him more than just an apology.

I leaned my forehead against the cool wall beside the door, my breath unsteady.

Griffin didn’t need me barging in right now, interrupting this moment. Any rushed apology I could offer would only be for my benefit, not his.

The way he looked at his dad—steady, grounded—was something I couldn’t touch, something far beyond my understanding.

Silently, I slipped back from the door and made my way down the hall, my footsteps quiet against the tile floor.

A cold breeze swept in as I stepped outside, hitting me like a jolt of reality I hadn’t been ready for.

Maybe I’d been wrong about this job—or my reasons for wanting to leave.

Watching Griffin with his dad had struck something raw in me.

The guy had a whole world beyond his work, people he showed up for no matter how hard or messy things got.

It was a world so different from mine—a life made up of fans and followers who thought they knew me and a few friends who mostly talked in terms of my “brand.”

A flicker of jealousy caught me off guard. Griffin had something real to hold onto.

I, on the other hand, had been drifting from one stream to the next, one convention after another, barely trusting anyone and keeping walls up between myself and whatever people wanted from me.

Now here I was, fumbling through his life like a careless tourist, disrupting the things that mattered to him.

But maybe this place—the bar, the job—was different. It wasn’t just about me for once.

It was something grounded, where the stakes weren’t clicks or views but being present and reliable.

And in a way I couldn’t fully explain, I wanted that.

I closed my eyes, letting the night air settle around me, solidifying the decision taking shape in my mind.

Tomorrow, I’d show up ready to work. No more dodging, no more half-efforts.

Griffin deserved better than that. For once, I wanted to prove, maybe even to myself, that I could actually be there for someone else.

No shortcuts, no excuses—just showing up, putting in the effort, and doing something real.

Morning light slanted through the windows of Griffin’s bar as I kneeled down, tackling what I really, really hoped was just hardened gum on the floor near one of the bar stools.

My little “gum bucket,” already half-full, sat beside me, and every scrape of the metal tool against the floor echoed through the empty room.

Noah had let me come in early to help with the morning tasks, which seemed like the least I could do.

Besides, it was oddly satisfying to get the place spotless.

Noah emerged from the back, wiping his hands on a cloth. “You don’t need to work so hard, you know.”

I looked up and shrugged. “Just trying to pull my weight.”

He shook his head slightly, almost amused. “Alright, but Griffin’s the one you’ll have to impress. He’ll be in soon, so don’t overdo it.”

With that, Noah headed out.

I went back to scraping, but every so often, I found myself glancing toward the entrance, a strange knot of nerves tightening in my stomach.

When I heard the rumble of a truck pull up outside, I straightened, quickly checking my reflection in the shiny wood of the counter.

I ran a hand through my hair, adjusted the towel at my waist, and tightened my apron. Any second now, Griffin would be walking through the front door?—

“What the heck is that ?”

His voice came from directly behind me, startling me so much I nearly dropped my scraper.

I whirled around to find Griffin standing there, his gaze fixed on the bucket beside me with a look of complete disgust.

“It’s, uh… my gum bucket,” I said, suddenly feeling ridiculous as I gestured toward the half-filled pail.

He let out a short grunt of acknowledgment—more bemused than angry—before turning on his heel and heading behind the counter.

He opened the cash register and began counting bills, stacking them with a little more force than necessary.

I watched him, my stomach churning with nerves as I tried to read his mood.

I got to my feet and slid onto a stool across from him, hoping he’d say something. Anything.

After a moment, his hands slowed over the bills, but he still didn’t look at me. He was ignoring me, but that was fine.

More importantly, he didn’t seem angry, or like he was deciding whether to rip my throat out.

Drawing in a deep breath, I forced myself to speak. “Griffin, I… I’m really sorry about last night. I didn’t mean to break it. I know it meant a lot to you.”

Griffin’s gaze flicked up, his eyebrow raised slightly, as if silently asking how I knew.

“Noah told me,” I explained. “Well, I made him tell me—I mean, he didn’t say much,” I added quickly, guilt creeping up as Griffin’s jaw tightened for a moment. But then his shoulders relaxed a little.

“You don’t need to keep apologizing,” he muttered, his voice softer now, though his focus returned to the cash register.

“I know I can’t replace it, but I want to make it up somehow. I’ll clean whatever needs cleaning, work any shifts you want. Open to close, seven days a week if that’s what it takes?—”

Griffin glanced at the gum bucket and sighed, finally setting the bills aside. “How? By filling up that thing?”

For a second, I froze, a bit taken aback, until I caught the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

Relief washed over me, and I let out a shaky laugh.

“Hey, if that’s what it takes, I’ll keep that bucket full,” I said, leaning into the joke. “I’ll be on time every day, do whatever needs doing—scraping gum, mopping floors, restocking. You’ll have the best worker in Pecan Pines.”

I held my breath, waiting for his response.

Griffin studied me for a moment with that unreadable expression of his.

Just when I thought he might dismiss me altogether, I added hastily, “And about that… moment at the convention? In the cab?” I winced, trying to keep my tone light. “That was just an accident. A mistake. I don’t want it to make things awkward. It won’t affect anything, I swear. It’s in the past. In fact, it never happened.”

Something flickered across his face—a flash of something I couldn’t quite place—but it was gone before I could read it.

I pushed forward, forcing a smile as I extended my hand. “I mean it. I’m serious about this. You won’t regret hiring me. And I’ll keep it professional. Boss .”

His eyes dropped to my outstretched hand, then back to my face, his expression shifting.

There was a tightness in his jaw, and something in his gaze that almost looked like he didn’t quite love the title.

After what felt like an eternity, he let out a low sigh. Then, without a word, he reached out and took my hand.

His grip was firm, steady. His eyes stayed locked on mine, as if he was trying to gauge just how serious I was.

“Alright,” he said finally, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. “Let’s see if you mean it.”