Page 24 of One Hot Summer

Chapter Eleven

ADAM

E ven though the massive heatwave we’d had earlier in the season had passed, it was still August in NYC, and the concrete jungle was muggy and hot out.

The AC in our building had been replaced, so at least it was cooler inside the apartment, which was where I’d stayed since returning from Tennessee.

I’d been so happy to finish all my assignments early, but now, I regretted that choice since it left me with even more time on my hands and no way to fill it.

Instead, I’d spent the last few weeks cleaning every single surface in the tiny space until it gleamed, convincing myself that if I just kept moving, I wouldn’t have to think about how the two people I loved most in the world were gone and it was all my fault.

I checked my phone again—like I hadn’t done the exact same thing two minutes before. Notifications: zero. No messages from Dalton, nothing from Griffin. Not that I’d expected any really.

Dalton had been by a few times to pick up more of his clothes.

He barely looked at me when he came, just mumbled a quick hello before grabbing what he needed and leaving again.

I understood why he was angry. I’d betrayed his trust, fallen for his father of all people.

But the lack of communication was killing me.

Dalton had been my rock for so long, the only real family I’d ever known.

His absence left a gaping hole in my life that I didn’t know how to fill.

And then there was Griffin. God, I missed him. Every night I dreamed of his touch, his smile, the way he made me feel safe and wanted. But he’d made it clear at the airport that we needed space. That whatever had sparked between us in Tennessee was over before it really began.

I tried to tell myself it was for the best. That I was young and would get over it.

That there were plenty of other fish in the sea.

But deep down, I knew it was a lie. What Griffin and I had shared was special, once-in-a-lifetime.

I’d never felt so connected to another person before and I doubted I ever would again.

With a heavy sigh, I flopped onto the couch and tried to shatter the oppressive silence by switching on the TV and letting the volume spike, but the voices on the screen just felt hollow.

I turned it off again, then wandered into the kitchen to check if any new food had materialized since I last opened the fridge.

It hadn’t. I grabbed a can of seltzer and let my mind drift back to Tennessee, to the soft quiet of the mountains and the way Griffin’s hand had felt tangled in my hair.

I missed Dalton, but the ache for him was different—a dull, heavy thing that lived in the space between my ribs, a memory of a brother I’d lost. My feelings for Griffin, on the other hand, were a raw, living thing.

They burned through me every second, sharp and relentless, like a fever that wouldn’t break.

I kept replaying those days at the cabin, the slow build of tension, the way our bodies had fit together like we’d been doing it for years.

I’d never felt that way before, not with anyone.

The taste of his mouth, the sound of his voice in my ear, the way he’d looked at me in the blue light of dawn—sometimes, I wondered if I’d just imagined the whole thing. Maybe I had.

I went back to the futon, curling up around my phone like it might suddenly vibrate and bring everything back to life.

I found myself touching my lips, tracing the places where Griffin’s mouth had left bruises.

It was embarrassing how much I missed him.

We’d been together for such a short time, barely enough for the world to register that we were even a thing, and already I felt like I was suffocating without him.

More memories played through my head like a film, the way he’d look at me across a room, and how even when he was frustrated there was a gentleness in him that made me feel safe.

I remembered the way he’d said my name, the way his lips had quirked up at the corners when he pretended to be annoyed but was actually just amused.

I wondered what he was doing now. If he was holed up in his office, pouring over contracts and pretending I didn’t exist, or if he was out at a bar, letting someone else buy him a drink, someone older, wiser, better.

Maybe he was just at home, sitting in the dark, missing me in the same miserable way I missed him. I doubted it.

Maybe that was the real problem: I didn’t believe that something this good, this unexpected, could actually last. Not for me. Not when no one in my life had ever treated me like I was someone worth fighting for.

I finished the seltzer and chucked the can into the recycling bin, then immediately fished it out and rinsed it off, because old habits die hard.

I made my way to the window and looked out, counting the cabs as they crawled past, pretending each one might be carrying someone I knew.

I imagined Griffin stepping out onto the curb, looking up at my window and smiling.

Instead, it was just my own reflection in the black glass, looking tired and a little bit haunted.

I wondered if this was what the rest of my life would look like—endless days of waiting for things I couldn’t control, endless nights wishing I could go back to that moment in the cabin where I was truly, stupidly happy.

I let myself sink down onto the futon and pulled my knees to my chest. I was so lost in my own head that I didn’t hear the first knock at the door.

The second one was louder, impatient, and for a wild second I thought maybe it was Dalton, come to punch me in the face or tell me I was still his best friend, or both. At this point, I’d welcome either.

What I didn’t expect—what I absolutely, one-hundred percent did not prepare myself for—was to open the door and see Griffin Price, standing there in a charcoal suit and a blue tie, looking like every fantasy I’d ever had.

He looked about as strung out as I was, but his eyes were so blue I forgot how to breathe.

“Hi,” he said, voice rough and quiet.

My mind blanked. My first impulse was to step aside, let him in, and offer him a seat like this was some normal visit and not the thing I’d been dying for since the second I watched him disappear into the crowd at LaGuardia.

Instead, I just stood there, staring like an idiot, until he gave me a small, tentative smile. “Can I come in?”

“Oh, um, yeah. Of course.” I nodded, stepping back, and tried to remember how to use my words. I breathed him in as he moved past me into the apartment and my head spun with overpowering need. The need to be held, cared for, to be wanted by this man.

I held his scent in as long as I could, committing his smell to memory in case this was the last time I ever saw him. He turned and looked at me, and for the first time in days, I felt like I could exhale.

“I hope it’s okay that I just showed up,” he said, running a hand through his hair. He looked nervous, like he was worried I might kick him out.

I shook my head. “No, I mean—yeah. It’s fine.”

His eyes swept over the spotless living room, then back to me, and the corners of his mouth twitched. “I see you’ve been keeping busy.”

I laughed, but it came out brittle. “If by ‘busy’ you mean rearranging my entire existence every twenty minutes, then yeah. I’m a model of productivity.”

He nodded, hands in his pockets. “I know the feeling.”

I wanted to ask him why he was here, if he’d talked to Dalton, if maybe he’d just come to say goodbye for good, but I couldn’t seem to force the words out of my throat. We stood in the middle of my living room, two feet apart, neither of us moving. The silence built until it was unbearable.

He broke it first. “I missed you,” he said, voice low. “More than I thought was possible.”

I felt the words in my bones. I looked away, blinking hard. “You don’t have to say that.”

He stepped closer, and I felt his presence the way you feel the sun on your face after days of rain. “I’m not saying it because I have to. I’m saying it because it’s true.”

His words hung in the air between us. I finally forced myself to meet his gaze, and what I saw there almost knocked me over. He reached for my hand, threading his fingers through mine. His skin was warm, his grip firm and certain. For the first time in days, I felt something other than regret.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry I pushed you away. I thought I was doing the right thing, protecting you and Dalton. But I was wrong. I was trying to protect you, but I was also protecting myself.”

“Protecting yourself from what?”

He shrugged, looking uneasy. “From rejection, from being hurt. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. Not even my ex-wife.”

My heart pounded so hard I was sure he could hear it. “What are you saying?”

He reached out and gently cupped my face in his hands. “I’m saying that I love you, Adam. I’m in love with you. And if you’ll have me, I want to try to make this work. For real this time.”

My heart raced at his words. I wanted so badly to believe him, but fear and doubt still gnawed at me. “What about Dalton?” I asked. “He hates me now. I’ve ruined everything.”

Griffin shook his head. “He doesn’t hate you. In fact, he’s the one who convinced me to come here tonight. He came to see me earlier. We talked—really talked—and he gave us his blessing.”

I stared at him, not quite believing. “How did you convince him?”

Griffin smiled, the first real smile I’d seen from him in forever. “Easy. I just told him how happy I am when I’m with you, how you’re the best thing to ever happen to me, and how badly I want to keep you in my life, to make you mine.”

The air left my lungs in a rush, overwhelmed. “You do?” I asked, the words barely more than a whisper.