Page 8 of Griffin (Pecan Pines #3)

Chapter 8

Griffin

A s the evening crowd trickled out of the bar, the night was finally quiet enough for me to catch my breath.

Work had been great, especially with Michael around. We’d been teasing each other all day, flirting, even, though I’d never admit it to Noah.

But it felt easy with him—natural, even, which surprised me.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d flirted with anyone like that, let alone while working.

Even Noah had noticed. Earlier, he’d sidled up to me with that smug look on his face, clearly fishing for details.

“You’ve been acting different,” he’d said, as if trying to pull some big confession out of me.

I wasn’t biting, though. I’d just shrugged, brushed it off. It was easier than admitting there was a grain of truth to it.

But after Michael stepped out to answer a call, things felt… different. When he came back inside, something was off.

The lightness from our banter was gone, replaced with a tightness around his mouth that told me he was carrying some kind of burden he wasn’t sharing.

The bar got packed quickly after that, and I never got the chance to ask him what was going on.

Once the crowd finally cleared, I started wrapping up, still thinking about the way he’d looked after that phone call.

Just as I was closing up, I noticed an alert from my video streaming app flashing on my phone.

Michael is live.

My pulse jumped a little. Michael was streaming again? It didn’t make sense. He’d said he wanted to stay under the radar for a while.

The decision was out of character, and especially after that call he’d taken, was he pressured into it somehow?

I knew he was close with his manager.

Michael had mentioned they were friends, but if that manager actually cared about his safety, wouldn’t he be the first person to suggest Michael avoid the limelight right now?

I took a seat on a bench outside the bar and clicked on the stream, watching as Michael’s familiar face filled the screen.

He had that easy smile on, and his usual charm was intact, but I could see something in his eyes—a flicker of worry, or maybe exhaustion.

My gut twisted. Whatever had driven him to stream tonight, it didn’t feel right.

He seemed to be putting on a brave front for his viewers, but his posture was a little too tense, his laugh not quite as genuine.

The chat box scrolled by in a blur, the usual flood of messages pouring in from his fans.

And the more I watched, the more I felt this weird sense of helplessness.

Here he was, putting himself out there for everyone to see, while something in his life was clearly weighing him down.

When the stream finally ended, I shot him a quick message.

Griffin: Are you okay? You left in a hurry just now.

His response was almost instant.

Michael: Yeah, all good! Just tired. Thanks for asking.

But something about it didn’t sit right with me. The speed of the reply felt almost too automatic, like he was brushing me off.

Still, I didn’t want to push. We were still figuring out what we were to each other—friends, maybe. Or was I just his boss?

Whatever it was, showing up unannounced might seem like overkill.

Yet, my wolf wasn’t content. The thought of leaving him to handle whatever he was going through alone felt wrong.

I debated just driving past his place, a quick check-in.

I wouldn’t let him know I was there, but just seeing the lights on would make me feel better.

Before I could get up, another message came through.

Michael: I’m not okay.

The honesty in those three words nearly floored me.

I stared at my phone, my thumb hovering over the screen as I typed my reply, trying not to sound too eager to head over.

Griffin: Want me to come over? Have you eaten? I can stop by the pizza place near your building.

Michael was staying at Casey and Sawyer’s place, so I knew the address.

A moment later, the message bubble popped up, and I saw his reply.

Michael: Pepperoni sounds great. Can you also include wings?

I couldn’t help the smile that broke out across my face.

Griffin: One pepperoni pizza and wings, coming right up.

The drive to the pizza place was quick, and after picking up the food, I headed to the building where Michael was staying.

I didn’t even hesitate before sending him another message.

Griffin: I’m outside.

The entrance door buzzed open, and Michael’s familiar silhouette appeared at the top of the stairs.

He seemed relieved to see me, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he gestured for me to come in.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice carrying a weariness that tugged at me.

“Hey yourself,” I replied, holding up the pizza box. “I come bearing gifts.”

He laughed—a short, genuine laugh that I hadn’t heard all night, and it made something tighten in my chest.

We settled on the couch, and he opened the box, taking a slice and sighing as he took a bite.

“So,” I said after a few minutes, glancing at him. “You gonna tell me what’s really going on?”

Michael tore through his pizza slice in no time.

He back against the couch as he wiped his hands on his jeans, rubbing them together absently.

He still looked tense, his jaw tight, his eyes far away. I wanted to reach out and ease whatever weight he was carrying.

Instead, I waited, letting him have the space to speak when he was ready. And finally, he did.

“Todd called earlier,” he began, his voice a murmur, laced with frustration and something like guilt.

Michael continued, “He reminded me I had to put out videos for Shadowfall: Requiem . And if I didn’t, it’ll be a breach of contract. He thinks I'm blowing a huge opportunity.”

My frown deepened.

Todd’s reasoning didn’t sit well with me, but I held my tongue, sensing Michael needed to get it all off his chest first.

Michael’s expression hardened, but I could tell he wasn’t entirely convinced himself.

As he spoke, I could feel his loyalty toward Todd but also the pressure he was under—like he was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

“It's not that I don’t get it,” he continued, reaching for another slice. “I love my job but with the appearance of this stalker…everything changed.”

I nodded, handing him a napkin as he finished his slice.

“Have you told Todd this?” I asked.

Michael’s shoulders slumped, and he sighed.

“No… I just told him I’m here on a break. But it feels wrong to lie to him. He’s always been there for me, from the beginning, even before all of this blew up,” Michael admitted.

I could see how deeply that loyalty to Todd was ingrained in him, but I wanted Michael to realize his well-being mattered too.

We fell into silence for a moment, each of us taking a few more bites of pizza and wings.

The silence was comfortable, and for a brief moment, I thought the tension had lifted.

But then Michael’s gaze drifted toward his computer setup, his lips pressing into a tight line.

Without a word, he got up, motioning for me to follow.

“Did the stalker contact you tonight?” I asked.

Michael nodded and I followed him to his desk, where his gaming laptop was still running.

He clicked through a few windows until his messages opened, revealing dozens of direct messages from a particular account: mforever018 .

As I scanned through the messages, a chill settled over me. These weren’t the typical messages of an enthusiastic fan.

They were frantic, obsessive, a cry for connection that edged on desperation. So this was Michael’s stalker.

One message in particular caught my eye: I don’t think I can keep going if I don’t see you soon.

My stomach twisted, and a deep sense of unease rippled through me.

“Michael,” I murmured, my voice softer now, “I didn’t realize how serious this really was.”

Michael’s face looked drawn, his eyes dark.

“I don’t know what to do. I mean…” His voice cracked, barely a whisper as he continued, “I don’t want to be responsible for someone…hurting themselves.”

The worry and guilt etched into his features made something fierce rise within me.

The frustration I’d felt earlier about him streaming again melted away, replaced by an overwhelming urge to shield him from all of this.

My wolf was riled up, wanting to comfort, protect, to do whatever was necessary to take that weight off Michael’s shoulders.

Without thinking, I reached for him, pulling him close, and to my relief, he didn’t pull away.

Instead, he leaned into the embrace, his head resting against my shoulder, and I felt his body relax, just a little.

My arms wrapped around him, instinctively drawing him in, as though somehow I could keep the world and its darkness at bay for him.

“Hey,” I murmured, rubbing small circles on his back, feeling the tension slowly drain from him.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, Michael,” I reminded him.

He let out a shaky breath, his fingers clinging lightly to my shirt as though he was afraid to let go.

“I just… It’s so hard to shake the guilt. Todd says I have a duty to my fans, but what about me?” Michael asked.

“Exactly,” I agreed, my voice a little firmer now, wanting him to hear the certainty in it.

“You matter more than keeping your fans entertained or Todd’s opinions. This is your life, Michael. Your safety, your happiness—they’re more important than a fan base,” I told him.

He glanced up at me, his face inches from mine, and I could see something shifting in his eyes—relief, gratitude, maybe even something deeper.

The moment lingered, our breaths mingling, and before I could second-guess myself, I leaned forward, brushing my lips against his.

The kiss was gentle, tender, and yet it held something I couldn’t ignore, a sense of rightness that made my heart race.

Michael didn’t pull back. Instead, he responded, his hand moving to the nape of my neck, drawing me closer.

Our kiss deepened, a slow build of warmth and comfort, like two people finally finding something they’d been searching for.

When we broke apart, he rested his forehead against mine, and I could see a hint of a smile, soft and sincere.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “For being here… and for caring.”

I squeezed his hand gently, letting my thumb trace small circles over his knuckles.

“Always. And I mean it—ignore Todd. Take the break you need. Your mental health matters more than some contract,” I said.

Michael sighed, pulling back slightly, but he didn’t let go of my hand.

“You don’t know Todd like I do,” he murmured. “It’s… complicated.”

I nodded, though inwardly, I felt a pang of irritation at the guy.

How could Todd push Michael into this when he was clearly struggling? But I wasn’t here to argue over Todd’s character.

I was here for Michael, and that was all that mattered.

“If you ever feel unsafe, or even just unsure… reach out to me, okay?” I said, my voice low but steady. “Call me, text me—anything. I’ll do whatever I can to be there.”

Michael’s gaze softened, and he looked down at our still-joined hands, his thumb brushing over mine absently.

“Why?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. “Why would you go through so much trouble… for me?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but the words caught in my throat.

Why did I feel this fierce need to protect him, to be there for him no matter what?

Then, deep within, I heard my wolf’s voice, quiet but unwavering. He’s our mate.

The revelation hit me like a lightning bolt, leaving me stunned. I hadn’t seen it before, hadn’t realized it, but now it all made sense.

The possessiveness, the drive to keep him safe, the way just being around him felt so… right.

“Griffin?” he prompted, his brows furrowing as he caught my moment of silence.

I cleared my throat, forcing a smile to mask my surprise.

“I guess… I just care about you. A lot more than I expected to,” I admitted.

He seemed to accept that answer, his expression softening.

After a quiet pause, he finally asked, “Would… would it be okay if you stayed the night? I don’t… I don’t really want to be alone right now.”

My heart thudded a little harder, and I nodded. “Of course. I’ll stay as long as you need.”

We ended up curled up on the couch, close enough to feel each other’s warmth.

Michael rested his head on my shoulder, his breaths evening out as he gradually relaxed, tension easing out of him with each passing second.

I stayed awake a little longer, holding him close, marveling at the connection between us and the new understanding settling deep within me.

Michael was mine—mine to protect and cherish, and I had no intention of letting anyone hurt him.