Page 44 of Playing Hard to Hate

GRIFFIN

PRESENT

I didn’t know what to expect when we stepped outside her apartment. It sure as hell wasn’t relief. I kept glancing over my shoulder half expecting Damian to be chasing us. Tate clung to my hand like it was her lifeline.

She started to crumble the moment we hit the stairs.

Her steps slowed, her grip on my hand tightening.

Red and blue lights bounced off the stone walls, casting eerie shadows over her tear-streaked face.

Her whole body shook, her eyes held no light, and I feared she was going to collapse on the pavement.

Her neighbors gathered, whispering and staring, nosy for gossip.

I sheltered Tate the best I could. She latched onto my chest, burying her face there, her tears soaking my shirt.

I saw and felt the distant flash and snap of cameras from the paparazzi and news outlets.

I wanted to protect her image, so I raised my arm to her shoulders and held her tightly against my chest, hiding her from view.

Men and women were starting to head toward us, exiting their cars and marching over with authority when I heard a frantic voice cutting through the noise .

“Tate!”

Millie .

She shoved through the gawking crowd, her usually tamed curls were a wild mess as she ran, panic etched across her face. The moment she reached Tate, her hands latched onto her best friend.

Tate broke apart completely. Sounds of heartbreak tore from her lips into my chest.

When Millie tugged Tate’s arm, she turned and slumped against her best friend. Sobs racked her small frame. Millie caught her with ease, gripping her tight and whispering words I couldn’t hear.

I tore my eyes away and turned to the officers. I had a job to do.

“He’s inside,” I said, voice flat, motioning toward the building. “Damian Voss.”

The cop nearest to me nodded, already speaking into his radio. “Backup’s here. We’ll take it from here.”

Good. Because if I had to be in that apartment one more second, with his blood on my hands, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to walk away without making sure he never touched her again.

I let out a slow breath and pulled out my phone.

I gazed over to where a female officer was questioning Tate.

Millie had her arms around her, but Tate’s green eyes, swimming with tears, remained fixed on me.

My fingers hovered over her brother’s contact information for a half-second before pressing his name.

He had to know what happened here tonight.

Dustin picked up on the second ring. “Griffin?”

“It’s Tate,” I said, voice tight. “Something happened.”

A beat of silence, then a sharp exhale. “What?”

“She’s safe now,” I said quickly, but the word safe felt like a fucking joke . Tate was a crying mess in Millie’s arms, her whole body trembling like she was still trapped in that goddamn apartment.

“What happened?” Dustin demanded, his tone sharp.

I glanced at Tate. At her swollen lip, the red mark on her cheek. My grip tightened around my phone. I should have killed him.

“You need to get here,” I said simply. “Now.”

Another pause. “Is she hurt?”

I hesitated. This was the kind of pain you never healed from. The kind that haunted your dreams.

“She was attacked in her apartment by the same fucker from the grocery store. He was after her for money because of me.” I swallowed thickly. Admitting the truth out loud made me sick.

“Can I talk to her?”

“He held her against his chest with a knife on her throat, and he hit her. He fucking hit her.”

“Where is he now?”

“Unconscious.”

“Can I talk to her?” he asked again, and I shook my head, forgetting he couldn’t see me.

“She’s not in any state to talk right now. I don’t care how fast you have to drive. Just get here.”

I hung up, shoving my phone into my pocket. I needed to stop wasting my time talking to him when she needed me.

Tate was still curled into Millie. Her whole world shattered in a single night.

I wanted to fix it.

I wanted to rip the past hour from existence and give her back the safety Damian had stolen. But all I could do was stand there, blood on my knuckles, while she fell apart.

It was late by the time I pulled up to my condominium building. Tate was having nightmares in the passenger seat, balling her fists and whimpering.

“Tate, baby. We’re here,” I whispered softly, cupping her swollen cheek and brushing my thumb gently against the hot skin.

She woke with a start, her eyes darting around, chest rising and falling quickly until she noticed her surroundings.

I got out of the car, handing my keys to the valet and then rounded the hood to help her out of the car.

She kept her face low, eyes on the ground, as we made the quick walk to the elevators, and then we were alone in the elevator up to the penthouse where I lived.

She followed me to the door where I inserted my key.

Tate stood frozen in the entryway, her gaze sweeping across the open space with an expression I couldn’t quite decipher.

Her lips parted slightly, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag as she took it all in.

The floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the city skyline, the sleek black marble countertops in the kitchen, the massive sectional couch that could swallow a person whole.

“This is…a lot,” she finally said, her voice unreadable.

I smirked, closing the door behind her. “That’s one way to put it.”

She stepped forward hesitantly, her sneakers squeaking against the polished hardwood floors, and ran a hand along the back of the couch. Her fingers lingered there as she glanced up at the pendant lights hanging above the kitchen island.

“You live here alone?” she asked, still not looking at me .

I leaned against the wall, watching her carefully. “Yeah.”

She exhaled, shaking her head slightly. “I mean, I knew you had money, but…” Her gaze flicked to the glass balcony doors, then to the modern fireplace set into the far wall. “This is another level.”

Something about the way she said it made me uneasy. I pushed off the wall and walked toward her. “It’s just a place, Tate.”

She let out a small laugh, but there was no humor in it. “Right. Just a place.”

Her fingers traced the seam of the couch for a second longer before she turned to me, her expression unreadable. “It’s beautiful, Griffin. It really is.”

There was something in her voice, something laced with hesitation. Like she wasn’t sure if this world of mine was one she fit into.

I wasn’t about to let her start thinking that.

Stepping closer, I reached for her bag and slipped it off her shoulder, setting it on the counter. “Come on,” I murmured, tilting my head toward the view. “I want to show you something.”

She let me take her hand, and when I led her toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, she didn’t resist.

She pressed a palm to the glass, eyes widening slightly at the city stretching out below us, the skyline illuminated in soft gold and blue. “Wow,” she whispered.

I didn’t look at the view. I looked at her.

Because, right then, with the city lights reflecting in her eyes, she was the most breathtaking thing in this place.

And I had a feeling she had no idea.

“I need to shower,” she whispered a few minutes later, her gaze fixed on her nails like they were the most fascinating thing in the world .

Something had shifted the energy between us, the weight of the night finally settling on her shoulders. Maybe it was exhaustion, or maybe reality had just caught up.

She was allowed to feel this. To process it in her own way.

So I didn’t push. I just nodded. “I’ll get you a towel.”

“Our date got ruined. I was going to make lasagna.” She refused to make eye contact.

“We can do it another night,” I told her softly.

“I could have gone home with Millie.”

“Not letting you out of my sight, Tate.”

“I’m sorry if this ruins anything for your career.” She was looking at my hands. I didn’t think it was going to ruin my career, but it would sure as hell make playing the next game difficult.

I directed her to my master bathroom and showed her where everything was before sitting on the edge of the bed and scrolling through the notifications on my phone.

There were text messages from my teammates, a few from the twins, and about a hundred from Nick.

I was fucking exhausted. I didn’t have the mental capacity to make a public statement tonight. A news article notification popped up, the headline catching my attention.

brEAKING NEWS: Baseball Star Griffin Silver Involved in Violent Confrontation—Will He Be Ready for Game Six?

Earlier this afternoon, Atlanta Braves rookie sensation Griffin Silver found himself in an unexpected and violent altercation, surprisingly not on the baseball field, but in a condo.

Sources confirm that Silver intervened in a dangerous situation involving Tatum Grace, a well-known fitness influencer and Silver’s rumored love interest. Grace was allegedly held at knifepoint by Damian Voss, a former classmate of both Silver and Grace, who had recently been released on bail following a highly publicized grocery store robbery .

According to eyewitness accounts, Silver arrived at Grace’s apartment just in time to confront Voss, ultimately engaging in a physical altercation that left the suspect unconscious by the time authorities arrived.

The police have since taken Voss into custody, but questions now swirl about the impact of the fight, particularly on Silver’s ability to perform in the upcoming game six of the National League Championship Series against the New York Navigators.

So far, neither Silver nor the Atlanta Braves organization has issued a formal statement about the incident or his condition.

However, photos taken at the scene show visible bruising and swelling on Silver’s right hand, the same hand responsible for his game-winning pitch that got his team into the playoffs.

As for Grace, she was seen leaving the scene in a visibly shaken state with Silver.