Page 9 of Griffin (Pecan Pines #3)

Chapter 9

Michael

I leaned back against the cold brick wall in the alley behind the bar, shivering as the chill seeped into my bones.

The weather was turning colder, and my legs had gone numb from standing in one spot too long.

I shifted my weight from foot to foot, trying to keep the blood flowing.

If I’d known Casey was going to take this long to call me back, I’d have grabbed my coat—or better yet, I would’ve waited until I was off work in a few hours instead of doing this during my break.

The line clicked. “Casey?” My voice came out sharper than I intended.

“Sorry, I just got to my phone,” Casey said, his tone tinged with concern. “What’s up? You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, brushing my free hand down the front of my shirt.

“You sure? After everything that happened the other night…”

I hesitated, glancing around the dimly lit alley.

The memory of the stream from the other night flickered in my mind, and unease crept into my chest.

The stalker’s messages had unsettled me more than I wanted to admit, but the worst part was the lingering fear they’d send me more disturbing private messages—or worse, show up right here in Pecan Pines.

“I’m good,” I said quickly. “Better, actually.” And I wasn’t lying, not entirely. “Griffin came over right after the stream.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Griffin came over?”

“Yeah. He just… showed up.” I paused, letting the words hang there. The rest, I kept to myself.

It wasn’t that Griffin had made a big deal of anything. If anything, it was the opposite.

When he came over again last night in the middle of another stream, he simply grabbed a book off one of Casey’s shelves, plopped onto the couch, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He hadn’t been watching me stream, not really. But every so often, I’d catch him glancing over, like he was quietly checking in on me.

His presence had anchored me in a way I didn’t expect, like a quiet reminder that I wasn’t dealing with this alone anymore.

Not that I’d admit that aloud to Casey.

“Sounds like he’s been keeping an eye on you,” Casey said, his tone careful.

“Not in a weird way,” I added quickly, though I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to defend it. “It’s just… the company’s nice.”

Casey hummed in that loaded way that begged me to fill the silence, but I didn’t bite.

“We can head back tomorrow at the earliest,” he said after a moment. “Is that okay?”

“What?” I straightened, shaking off the wall. “No, no, don’t cut your trip short.”

“Michael—”

“Really,” I interrupted. “Like I said, I’m fine here with him. You and Sawyer should enjoy yourselves.”

“Hmm.”

There it was again. I pressed my lips together, silently willing Casey not to push further.

“I guess it’s lucky Griffin came over then,” Casey said finally, though it sounded more like he was fishing for something more.

My stomach twisted. I didn’t know what to say to that—or maybe I did, but I wasn’t ready to go there yet.

My breath puffed in the cold air as I worked to keep my tone steady.

“Anyway, nothing’s happened since then. No creepy DMs since I started streaming again. And if anything does, Griffin’s here. And Noah, too.” I tacked on Noah’s name almost as an afterthought, like it would somehow even things out.

There was a long pause. “Alright,” Casey said eventually. “But if anything happens, call me immediately. Promise?”

“I will.”

The back door of the bar creaked open, and I turned to see Noah poking his head out. “Oh, there you are. Griffin asked me to check on you.”

“Right,” I said, pushing off the wall and slipping my phone into my pocket.

I followed Noah through the kitchen, the warmth of the bar seeping into my skin as we passed through the back hall and into the main area.

My eyes immediately found Griffin. He was behind the counter, brow furrowed in obvious concern.

His gaze tracked me as I walked around the bar to join him, only relaxing slightly when I picked up a bag of peanuts and started helping him refill the bowls scattered across the counter.

“That was Casey,” I said, watching for his reaction.

Griffin gave a curt nod, the tension in his shoulders visibly easing. Did he think it was Todd calling again?

“Just giving him an update,” I added, keeping my tone casual.

Griffin coughed lightly, focusing on the glass he was scrubbing. It was already clean, but he kept at it anyway, like it gave him an excuse not to look at me.

His jaw tightened briefly, as if he’d just realized I’d caught him watching me.

A small smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. “You alright there?”

He glanced at me, then back at the glass, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like “fine.”

I chuckled, the tension from the earlier call fading. As I worked, a thought I’d been trying to ignore started to surface again.

Why was Griffin at the convention in the first place?

He didn’t seem like the type to care about gaming events. And how had he known I was streaming the other night?

The first time, sure—he’d been there when I stormed out of the bar. But last night? That didn’t add up.

I glanced at Griffin out of the corner of my eye. Should I ask him? Maybe later. For now, it felt easier to let the question linger.

Before I could overthink it, Griffin reached under the counter and slid an envelope in front of me. “Your pay.”

I blinked, then grabbed it, grinning as I peeked inside. “Wow. For a second, I really thought you weren’t going to pay me.”

Griffin made a sound between a grunt and a scoff, but the faint twitch of a smile gave him away.

I laughed, waving the envelope. “Listen, I want to do something to say thanks—for, you know, everything the past couple of nights.”

Griffin’s eyes flicked to the side, where Noah was wiping down tables.

The moment Noah caught Griffin’s glance, he quickly ducked his head.

Griffin turned slightly, shielding our conversation from view. “It’s nothing.”

“No, really,” I insisted. “Since I’ve got this now—” I waved the envelope for emphasis, “—dinner’s on me tonight.”

Griffin hesitated, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then he gave a small nod. “Alright.”

A smile tugged at the corner of my lips. “Great. Just don’t expect anything too fancy. I’m thinking burgers and fries. Maybe milkshakes if I’m feeling generous.”

He let out a soft chuckle—quiet, but enough to make my chest feel lighter.

The neon sign flickered overhead as we stood outside the diner. I tilted my head, taking in the weathered sign.

Inside, the place looked like it had seen better days—scuffed floors, patched-up booths, and mismatched chairs.

Yet, there was something comforting about it.

The crowd seemed to agree: a mix of people who wanted a quiet spot to unwind after work and those who clearly knew the staff by name.

Griffin glanced at me, smirking. “Wow. When you said I shouldn’t expect much, you weren’t kidding.”

“Hey!” I smacked his shoulder, half-annoyed, half-joking. “They’ve got great burgers here.”

He chuckled, rubbing the spot where I hit him. “If you say so.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You know, if you paid me more, I could’ve taken you somewhere nicer.”

Griffin raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting between amusement and disbelief, as if he was seriously wondering if I’d hit my head thinking I deserved a raise.

“I’m just saying,” I added with a smug grin, “if you wanted something fancier, maybe you shouldn’t have interrupted me every time a customer tried to chat me up. I could’ve made better tips.”

The grin slipped when I glanced over and found him already walking toward the entrance.

Without a word, he held the door open and gestured for me to come inside. I shook my head, laughing as I followed.

We slid into one of the cracked vinyl booths near the window, and a waitress brought over menus.

After some quick small talk, we ordered—two burgers, fries, and milkshakes.

When the food came, Griffin didn’t waste any time, picking up his burger and taking a massive bite.

I watched as he carefully fixed the paper lining around his basket—like it was some delicate art—before going back for another bite.

The corner of my mouth twitched into a faint smile. I picked up a fry, rolling it between my fingers as I debated how to start.

Instead of eating it, I used it to nudge the pickles on my plate to the far edge, like they might contaminate the fries if I left them too close.

The habit was pointless, I knew that, but it gave my hands something to do.

Griffin was watching me—I could feel it, even without looking up.

Was he curious, or just amused? Either way, the weight of his attention made my stomach flutter and tighten all at once.

I swallowed hard before finally breaking the silence. “So, um… that night at the convention.”

Griffin looked up mid-bite, chewing deliberately before answering. “What about it?”

I hesitated, still not entirely sure how to word this without sounding weird. “What were you doing there?”

“Same as everyone else,” he said, casually gesturing to my pickles. “You gonna eat those?”

“Help yourself,” I muttered, watching as he scooped them up without hesitation.

He popped one into his mouth before answering. “I went to check it out.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You were really there for the gaming convention?”

He tilted his head, smirking. “Why? Surprised I know how to turn on a computer?”

“No,” I said quickly, leaning back and folding my arms.

A part of me was still surprised that Griffin, of all people, had been to a gaming convention. But then again, a lot of people were into it these days.

“Just didn’t peg you as the type to stand in line for autographs or fan merch.”

“Didn’t say I was,” he said.

“Then why’d you go?” I pressed, ready to tease him. “Were you there for a specific game? Or…” I let the words hang. “Or were you just there to see me?” I teased, trying to hold back a grin.

Griffin’s smirk didn’t falter. “Yeah.”

I blinked, caught off guard by how readily he admitted it. “Wait, really?”

“Really.” He leaned back, completely unbothered. “You’re good at what you do.”

The casual compliment hit harder than I wanted to admit.

“Thanks,” I muttered, trying to hide my face behind a sip of water.

“You’ve got a voice for it,” he added, his tone completely sincere. “Sometimes I listen to your streams before I fall asleep.”

I nearly choked on the water, eyes darting to him.

His expression didn’t waver—steady, open, and completely unbothered, like he hadn’t just said something that sent my pulse skidding across the room and slamming into the wall.

For a moment, I could only stare at him, expecting to feel… something.

Maybe a flicker of unease, that familiar wariness that usually crept in when someone admitted to being a fan.

But with Griffin, there was none of that. Instead, his blunt honesty somehow put me at ease, like there was nothing more to read into.

No hidden motives, no performative charm—just Griffin being… Griffin.

It was disarming, the way he could say something so straightforward and leave me scrambling to catch up.

“Seriously?” I finally managed, aiming for a light tone to cover the way my heart had started to trip over itself.

He glanced up, his lips twitching like he knew exactly what effect he had. “What? You don’t think I’d make a good fan?”

I rolled my eyes, laughing despite myself. “It’s just not what I expected, that’s all.”

“Guess I like surprising you then,” he said, and for once, his smirk softened into something closer to a smile.