Page 51 of Playing Hard to Hate

TATUM

PRESENT

The next morning, Griffin drove me back to my condo.

The ride was quiet, a comfortable silence settling between us as the city blurred past the windows.

We’d been up late celebrating his win until the early hours of the morning, the first half of the night spent with his team, the other half spent with him showing me just how good it could be when he wasn’t taking things slow .

My body still hummed from the way he had touched me, claimed me, whispered my name like a prayer against my skin. Every ache, every lingering sensation was a reminder of the way he had undone me, over and over again, until I was nothing but his.

Griffin’s hand rested on my thigh, his thumb drawing lazy circles, as if he knew exactly where my thoughts had drifted. When I glanced over at him, his lips curled into a knowing smirk, his gray eyes dark with something that sent a shiver down my spine.

“If you keep looking at me like that, baby girl, we won’t make it back to your condo anytime soon,” he murmured, voice thick with amusement and promise.

Heat pooled low in my stomach, but before I could respond, the car slowed, and reality came crashing back in.

My fingers tangled in my lap, nerves twisting my stomach as we pulled up to the familiar building.

Except it didn’t feel familiar anymore. It felt completely and utterly tainted.

Griffin placed a reassuring hand on my thigh before getting out and coming around to open my door. We slowly made our way up the stairs, each step creaking with our weight. Uncertainty swirled in the humid air, clinging to us.

There was yellow caution tape across the front door of my apartment.

It caused me to stop in my tracks. Griffin laced our fingers together, grounding me as he inserted a key into the lock and pushed the door open, and we slowly made our way inside.

The second we stepped into my apartment, the destruction hit me like a punch to the gut.

The living room was trashed, cushions thrown across the floor, picture frames shattered, drawers left open and emptied.

The groceries I had bought were still left discarded in the middle of the kitchen floor.

The scent of stale fear and chaos still clung to the air.

My legs locked up, my breath stalling as my eyes darted around the space, searching for anything untouched, anything that still felt like home.

But there was nothing.

Griffin’s hand tightened around mine. “Tate, baby. I’m here. You’re safe now.”

I shook my head, stepping forward on shaky legs. The worst of it was still ahead. My bedroom .

Pushing the door open, my stomach twisted. The jewelry box on my nightstand was overturned, its contents scattered. Then my gaze landed on the small, framed picture on the floor, the glass cracked right through the middle.

It was of me and my mom.

I glanced at the spot where I’d been held against my will, a knife to my throat.

A sob tore from my throat, and before I could stop myself, I collapsed to my knees. My body shook as grief and exhaustion consumed me, the trauma of the past few days breaking free in messy, gasping sobs.

Griffin was there instantly, dropping down beside me. He gathered me in his arms, pressing me against his chest as he rocked us gently. “I’ve got you, baby girl. Let it out.”

I fisted his shirt, clinging to him as my tears soaked through the fabric. “It’s all ruined,” I choked out. “Everything…it’s like he took every bit of safety I had left.”

“He didn’t take anything, Tate,” Griffin murmured, his lips pressing to my temple. “You still have you. And you still have me.”

I sucked in a shaky breath, his words settling something inside me.

After a while, when my sobs had quieted into sniffles, he pulled back just enough to look at me. “Let’s get out of here. Let’s start packing up your things and figure out what to do next.”

I wiped at my cheeks, nodding. “I can’t stay here ever again. Not after this.”

“I know,” he said softly, brushing my hair behind my ear. “We’ll figure it out together.”

Sniffing, I reached for my phone and dialed Millie. She picked up on the first ring. “Tate? Are you okay?”

“Can you come over to my place?” My voice wobbled. “I…I need help.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

As soon as I hung up, Griffin took my phone and called Dustin. I heard the sharp intake of breath on the other end before my brother’s voice came through.

“I’m on my way.”

I looked up at Griffin, his steady presence the only thing keeping me from crumbling all over again. “Thank you,” I whispered.

“Always.” He leaned in, kissing me softly. “Now, let’s pack you up and get you out of here.”

Dustin arrived with a stack of boxes in hand, ready to get to work.

He and Griffin took charge of the kitchen and living room, first clearing away the chaos before carefully packing up my belongings.

Every broken item, every overturned piece of furniture was a reminder of what had happened here, but they worked methodically, determined to erase the damage, piece by piece.

Meanwhile, Millie and I focused on my bedroom.

For the past thirty minutes, we’d worked in silence, the weight of unspoken words pressing between us.

Each item I touched carried a memory, each drawer I opened threatened to pull me under.

But I refused to let the past win. Not now.

Not when I had people willing to help me put my life back together.

Millie had decided to dump all the items from the drawers of my dresser, and we were sorting through what we thought I needed and what should be donated. She leaned in close, her voice a conspiratorial whisper as we sorted through my scattered belongings. “Okay, spill. How was it?”

I rolled my eyes, biting back a smile as I shoved a handful of clothes into a duffel bag. “I am not talking about this right now.”

Millie gasped, grabbing my wrist. “That good? Is he big?”

A deep flush crept up my neck, and I avoided her gaze, pretending to focus on folding a shirt.

“Oh my god. I knew it! I fucking told you in high school! I fucking told you.” She smacked my arm. “You’re glowing. I knew he’d be good, but damn, Tate. Was it, like, life-changing kind of good?”

I hesitated, then exhaled, my lips curving into a smirk. “Millie…”

She grabbed my shoulders, shaking me gently. “You tease. I knew it!”

I bit my lip, my face burning. “Okay, fine. It was amazing . Like, I didn’t even know it could be that good. He was my first.”

Millie sighed dramatically. “Lucky bitch. My first was terrible.”

I laughed, shoving her playfully before she wiggled her eyebrows. “So what’s the plan now? Are you moving in with your baseball god?”

I froze for half a second before shaking my head. “No. I mean…we haven’t talked about that.”

She narrowed her eyes. “But you’ve thought about it.”

Of course I had. How could I not after everything that had happened? But moving in with Griffin felt…huge. Too fast . Too permanent. I needed to get my freedom back.

“I just need to figure things out first,” I said finally. “I don’t want to rush into anything.”

Millie studied me for a second, then nodded. “Okay. But if I were you, I’d at least enjoy the benefits of that man while you figure it out.”

I snorted. “Oh, trust me. I plan to.”

Hours later we all sat on the couch staring at the boxes stacked up by the front door. Griffin had ordered pizza, and we all sat there quietly munching away, lost in our own thoughts .

Dustin had already decided he was staying in town long enough to help me find a new place, which, of course, sparked an argument between him and Griffin.

And because she couldn’t resist, Millie threw in her two cents, fanning the flames until the whole thing spiraled into a three-way debate about where I should live.

I hated being a burden. I appreciated their concern, but I wasn’t helpless. I could figure this out.

I already felt guilty enough for dragging Griffin here today, forcing him to deal with my mess when he should have been basking in his victory.

But he insisted. Over and over, he reassured me it was fine, that he wanted to be here.

And yet, no matter how many times he said it, that small, insidious voice in my head kept whispering doubts, telling me he didn’t actually want me in his penthouse longer than necessary.

Was he just being polite?

Was I overstaying my welcome in his penthouse?

I wasn’t going to spiral. We were a new couple, but that didn’t mean I had to second-guess everything. If I wanted to be with him, I had to trust what he said.

A few minutes later, as the conversation settled, all our phones chimed at once with a flood of notifications.

I glanced down at my screen, scanning the headlines, before looking over at Griffin.

“Did you know the jewelry campaign was dropping today?” I asked, my eyes flicking back to my phone.

His brows furrowed as he pulled out his own phone. “No. It wasn’t supposed to launch for another week.”

Griffin Silver’s Insane 24 Hours: From Gunpoint Scare to Championship Glory and an Engagement Shoot That Has Fans Talking!

If there’s one thing we’ve learned about Griffin Silver, it’s that he knows how to keep us on our toes, both on and off the field.

Just twenty-four hours before leading the Atlanta Braves to their championship victory in game 6, Silver’s world took a terrifying turn when his new girlfriend, Tate Grace, was held at knifepoint in her own home.

The harrowing incident had fans concerned, but what truly shocked everyone? Seeing Tate in the stands the very next night, cheering her man on as if nothing had happened.

And when the final out was called, the Braves’ MVP center fielder wasted no time rushing into the stands to find her. The world watched as he lifted her into his arms, kissing her like they were the only two people in the stadium. Talk about a Hollywood moment!