Page 22 of One Hot Summer

Chapter Ten

GRIFFIN

I should have felt accomplished. Just last week, my firm closed a record-breaking deal.

The press release with my face on it had gone out this morning.

My phone buzzed every twenty minutes with congratulations, LinkedIn requests, thirsty associates eager to remind me I was “an inspiration” and would I please take a look at their business plan.

The old me—the man I spent the last decade shaping—would have basked in it.

He would have poured a double whiskey, loosened his tie, and thrown a celebratory dinner for the team.

But right now, all I could think about was Adam.

I checked my phone again. No texts, no missed calls, just a notification from the Yankees app and a spam offer for hair regrowth serum.

I threw the phone down so hard it skittered across my desk.

Collin, my business partner and the only person who ever came in without knocking, paused in the doorway.

“Long day?”

“I’m fine,” I told him in a clipped voice.

He arched an eyebrow at me. “Suuure. You seem totally fine. I always throw my phone when I’m fine too,” he said with the kind of knowing humor that only old friends could get away with.

I glared at him, not in the mood to joke around. “Just drop it, Collin.”

Ignoring me, he stepped the rest of the way into my office and shut the door.

He dropped into the seat across from me and folded his arms over his chest. “Spill it. And no more of this “I’m fine” bullshit because we both know that’s a lie.

You’ve been in a lousy mood for a month now.

I’ve noticed, and the rest of the staff have noticed.

Now, it’s just you and me in here and I’m not leaving until I get some answers. So, spill. What’s going on with you?”

I sighed. Collin was a great friend, but he was like a dog with a bone when it came to getting information. There was no way he was going to leave unless I talked. “I met someone,” I admitted quietly.

Collin blinked as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard me correctly. “Say that again?

“I said I met someone.”

A smile split his face. “You met someone? When? Where? What are they like—wait. If you met someone then why have you been acting like an angry bear with a toothache?”

I rolled my eyes at the analogy. I don’t think I’d been that bad, but then again, I did make Glenna cry the other day when I barked at her for not having the copies I needed ready for me. I made a mental note to bring her coffee and an apology the next day.

“It’s complicated.”

“Try me,” he insisted.

I leaned back in my chair with a huff. “Fine. I’ll tell you, but not a word of this leaves this office, you got me?”

Collin made a show of making a cross over his heart with one finger. “I’m your best friend. You know you can trust me.”

“I fucked up.”

“Fucked up how? Are they married? Did you get someone pregnant?”

I shook my head. “Not married and he is definitely not pregnant, but I still fucked up. Big time.”

“If he’s not married, how bad can it be?”

“He’s Dalton’s best friend,” I answered lowly.

Collin leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees as he searched my face as if waiting for some punchline. “Dalton. As in your son? How old is this guy?”

I glared at him. “He’s twenty-one and legal. I wouldn’t fuck up that bad.”

“Okay, okay. I just had to ask. I mean, you’re the one who said you fucked up big time.”

“Yeah, because he’s friends with my son, not because he’s underage.”

“So, what happened? You banged this kid one night and he told Dalton or what?”

I stiffened defensively. “First of all, he’s not a kid,” I hissed. “And second, it wasn’t like that.”

“What was it like then?”

The fight faded out of me as I remembered walking into my cabin to find Adam there, wearing nothing but a towel.

Just picturing his sweet face made my heart ache.

I spent the next several minutes telling Collin what had happened, skimming over the more personal stuff and ending with Dalton finding out.

When I was finished, he leaned back with his arms behind his head. “Well, shit.”

I gave him an incredulous look. “That’s all you have to say? I pour my heart out and you give me ‘well, shit’?”

Collin shrugged. “No, I have more thoughts, but I’m not sure you want to hear them.”

“When has that ever stopped you?”

“Good point. Okay, fine, here it is. It sounds to me like this was way more than just hot sex. It sounds like you might really care about this Adam guy and that maybe for the first time since your divorce, you can actually see a future with this person, am I right?”

“Possibly,” I answered stubbornly even though he’d basically hit the nail right on the head.

“Look, I get it. You feel guilty about going behind Dalton’s back. But from what you’ve told me; this wasn’t some sordid affair. You developed real feelings for Adam. And he’s an adult who can make his own choices.”

I shook my head, unable to accept Collin’s rationalization. “That doesn’t change the fact that I betrayed my son’s trust.”

“Maybe. Or maybe you’re being too hard on yourself. Have you tried talking to Dalton since it happened?”

“No,” I admitted reluctantly. “He won’t return my calls or texts.”

Collin leaned forward, his expression serious. “Griffin, you need to fix this. Not just for Dalton’s sake, but for your own. You’re miserable without Adam, aren’t you?”

I didn’t want to answer, but Collin knew me too well. My silence was answer enough. “You’re right,” I admitted with a heavy sigh. “I am miserable without him. But what can I do? Dalton won’t even talk to me.”

“Then you need to make him listen. Go to his place. Camp outside his door if you have to. But don’t give up on this, Griffin. You deserve to be happy.”

I rubbed my temples, feeling a headache coming on. “And what about Adam? I told him we needed to cool things off. He probably hates me now.”

“Only one way to find out,” he said with a shrug. “Talk to him too. Apologize for pushing him away. Tell him how you really feel.”

The thought of facing Adam after everything made my stomach churn with anxiety. But Collin was right. I couldn’t keep living like this. “Thanks. I appreciate you listening.”

“You better appreciate the fact that I’m willing to put up with your grumpy ass,” he teased. He stood and made his way to the door. “But seriously, talk to both of them. If this guy is as special as he sounds, then he’s probably worth fighting for.”

When the door swung shut behind him, I let out a breath and slumped in my chair.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the way Adam’s head tilted when he was thinking.

I could hear his laugh, unguarded and sharp, or the way he’d clear his throat right before saying something he was sure I’d make fun of.

I saw the curve of his neck, his soft, kissable lips, the marks I’d left on his silky skin each time we made love.

We hadn’t spoken since the airport. I tried, for the thousandth time, to convince myself that it was for the best. I told myself that what we’d shared was intense because it was new, because it was forbidden, and that now, in the cold light of reality, we’d both moved on.

I almost laughed at my own bullshit. Even now, weeks later, I could still taste him.

I still remembered the heat of his body under mine, the desperate way he whispered my name, the look in his eyes when I pushed inside him.

Every time I tried to focus on work, my mind wandered to the Tennessee woods, to the cabin, to the easy way in which we’d moved and worked and laughed together. Like we’d known each other our whole lives.

The worst part was, I was the one who’d ended it.

I was the one who said it was over, that we needed to let things “cool off” until we could sort out the mess with Dalton.

All to protect Adam, I told myself. All to keep him from losing the closest thing he had to family.

The line sounded noble, even in my head.

But the truth was, it was just another way to keep from admitting what I already knew.

I was in love with him. And it was wrecking me.

Love.

The word sat on my tongue, bitter and strange, like a medicine I didn’t want to swallow.

It wasn’t like I’d never said “I love you” to someone before, but with Sherry, it had always been an expectation, a duty more than an actual feeling.

But with Adam, the word felt terrifying and thrilling.

Like jumping out of a plane and realizing you might actually enjoy the fall.

When Dalton stormed out of the cabin, his face twisted in a look I’d never seen before, it was like someone flipped a switch. I could hear his voice now, echoing: “Of all people, Dad. Of all the fucking people in the world.”

I replayed the look on Adam’s face, the split second when he realized what it meant to lose Dalton, to lose his only real family.

That was when I knew I couldn’t ask him to choose.

Not when I knew what it felt like to lose someone you couldn’t replace.

So, I sent Adam home. I told myself it was the right thing to do.

I could take the hit. I could deal with the loneliness.

What I couldn’t live with was the idea that I might be the reason Adam lost the only brother he’d ever had.