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MIRA

A knock on my open door pulls me out of my head as I hang clothes in my closet. Turning, I see Griffin leaning against the frame in nothing but low-slung gray sweatpants with a mug in his hands.

“Hey. Thought you could use a break. And maybe some tea. It’s mint.”

Even though I’m so, so tired, a genuine smile curves my lips. “My favorite.”

“I know.” Griffin hands me the mug and watches as I blow on the steaming liquid before taking a tentative sip. “You’ve had a long day. D’you want to watch a movie or something?”

My phone shows the time is nine. I don’t have everything unpacked, but I’m almost ready to drop.

Still, my brain is too loud for sleep. Everything with Jared swirls around and around in my head, and I keep replaying things.

Did I miss a parade of red flags, or was this truly out of the blue?

People can be great actors, but it feels like I should have seen his behavior coming. “A movie sounds good.”

“Come on then, Lil’ Gravesy. I’ll make some popcorn.”

I follow Griffin down the hall and into his large, open living space. When he points at the couch, I don’t protest, just sit my tired butt down. He can handle making popcorn by himself. “Have any chocolate?”

Griffin hums low in his throat. I track him as he moves around the kitchen. His defined athlete’s muscles ripple and flex as he works. “Sorry, but no chocolate. Gotta keep to my meal plan, especially during the season.”

I try to eat well. I run and do yoga regularly.

But I’m not super careful about every last calorie I put into my mouth.

Not the way Griffin and Maddox are. But I suppose they’re professional athletes, so staying in shape is literally part of their job.

“I’ll keep my junk food stash in my room so you’re not tempted. ”

He laughs at that, the rich tenor of the sound bouncing around the open space.

I’ve always found Griffin attractive. Who wouldn’t admire a guy with shaggy golden hair that looks effortlessly messy, multi-hued hazel eyes that appear to change color, depending on the light, and full lips that are perpetually smiling?

Add in tan skin, a strong, angular jaw, a straight nose that has somehow never been broken, and a six-foot-four frame honed into muscular perfection over years of strength training and hockey, and he’s basically a walking wet dream.

He looks just as ready to catch some waves as fly across the ice.

It’s a good thing Griffin and I have such wildly different outlooks on love and relationships, or I’d have found myself in trouble a dozen times over since he and Maddox met. But Griffin doesn’t do serious. And I don’t do casual. So I’m free to admire him with no fear it will go further than that.

Though, living with him may test my restraint. Especially if he makes a habit of walking around shirtless. Because even if our goals in life aren’t compatible and he’s off-limits because he’s my brother’s best friend, I’m not dead. I have eyes. And Griffin Wright is objectively gorgeous.

“How’re you holding up?” he asks, turning to face me once he’s started the microwave. The soft sizzle of oil as it heats provides a dull background noise. Hazel eyes sweep over my features, and whatever he sees has a little line forming between his eyebrows.

“I’m fine.” And I am. Mostly. Living in the same house with Jared for a few weeks after we’d broken up did a pretty good job of curing my heartache. It helps that I concluded I’d never really loved Jared. He just seemed to tick all the boxes.

Responsible? Check .

Good job? Check .

Reliable? Check .

Similar goals for the future? Check .

I suppose it should have rung some alarm bells that my friends were never Jared’s biggest fans. And sure, he was more affectionate when we were alone than when his friends were around. But that’s normal, right? I could overlook all of that if he met the real requirements.

He had to be the kind of man who wouldn’t abandon me. Someone steady, serious, and reliable. Someone completely the opposite of my sperm donor.

Unfortunately, he ended up being a serious ass with a steadily decreasing desire to pretend he was some great guy.

You can only maintain a mask for so long when you live with someone.

Once the interval between popping kernels slows, Griffin takes the now-inflated bag out while I shake myself from my thoughts.

I go back to watching him as he moves around the kitchen.

He grabs a large bowl from a cabinet, pours the popcorn out of the bag, and lightly salts it.

Then he palms two water bottles and makes his way over.

“What do your friends think about you moving here?” The couch dips as Griffin sits beside me, leaving just enough space to set the bowl of popcorn between us.

My friends. I shake my head. “Honestly, we sort of drifted apart. I’m not sure any of them care all that much.”

Drifting apart is probably the wrong way to describe what happened.

It’s more like I threw myself into a relationship I thought would be long term and let Jared take up all my time outside of work.

I put too much stock in his opinions. Acquiesced when he whined about spending time with my friends instead of his.

Tale as old as time. Girl meets boy. Girl loses all sense of self. Boy takes advantage. Girl ends up alone.

Again.

I paste a tight smile on my face when I notice Griffin studying me. Like he can see through all my bullshit and straight down to my soul.

But then his serious expression morphs into a blinding smile and he boops my nose. Again. “Well, you’ve got us, now.”

“Yeah,” I say with a chuckle. “I’ve got a bunch of big, sweaty hockey players.”

“And Isla.”

“Hopefully. What if they don’t get back together?” I hate even voicing it out loud. My brother’s girlfriend is amazing. Sweet, fun, and she totally puts Maddox in his place. Part of me expected him to propose and for Isla to become my sister. A built-in best friend guaranteed to stick around.

Griffin waves a dismissive hand in the air. “They will. I have a plan.”

That piques my curiosity. Griffin is way more invested in Maddox and Isla getting back together than I thought he’d be. “Do I get to hear this plan?”

“Not yet.” He flashes me another of his disarming smiles. “Still working out the kinks. But you’ll be a part of it, don’t worry.”

“Oh, yeah?”

He nods. His shaggy golden hair flops around atop his head. “Someone will have to sit with her at the hockey game so she doesn’t run away.”

“Right.” I laugh. “Well, of course, you can count me in.”

“Good. Now what movie should we watch? A rom-com?”

“No.” I may not be all that cut up about things ending with Jared, but I’m still disappointed that my dreams of finding love came tumbling down once more. “Horror movie?”

“Slasher or suspense?”

Easy question. “Suspense. I hate all the gore of slasher flicks.”

“Fair enough.” Griffin turns on the TV and begins searching. We land on one neither of us has seen and snuggle in to watch. It’s good—and plenty scary—but I’m tired enough that my eyes grow heavy and little shivers make me tremble.

“Do you want me to turn this off so you can go to bed?” Griffin murmurs.

I force myself to sit up a bit and blink owlishly at him. “No, I’m good.” I dig into the popcorn bowl and bring a few salty kernels to my lips.

Griffin chuckles. “If you say so.” He doesn’t try to convince me to go to bed, but he does grab a throw blanket from a basket in the corner, which he drapes over my chilly form. “Let’s at least make sure you’re warm.”

I catch maybe another fifteen minutes of the movie before I lose the fight with my eyelids. The TV is dark when Griffin gives me a gentle shake. He must have finished it.

“Come on, Lil’ Gravesy. This couch is great, but it’s not as comfortable as your bed.” He laughs when I groan. “Need me to carry you?”

“No,” I grumble. He lets me struggle with the blanket for a few minutes, his chest shaking with silent laughter, before strong, calloused hands engulf mine and pull me to my feet.

“Never thought I’d see the day when Mira Graves was as grumpy as her brother.”

“Shut up,” I say as he leads me toward my bedroom. There’s no heat behind the words, and he knows it, which makes him laugh out loud this time.

“So grumpy.” Griffin pauses at my bedroom door, watching me. Probably to make sure I don’t trip on a box and face-plant on the floor.

If that were to happen, I’d just stay there, I’m so tired.

“Good night, Griffy.”

His smile blooms into something way too radiant for this time of night. I make a mental note to use the nickname again.

“Night, Gravesy.” His hazel eyes meet mine and linger for a few seconds before he shakes his head, turns around, and softly pulls the door closed. I’m shuffling toward the attached bathroom when I hear him shout, “Sure hope you don’t snore!”

I giggle.

Moving in with my brother’s best friend may have been one of my more impulsive decisions, but I think it’ll work out just fine. Maybe it’ll be fun to live with a guy when there are no romantic feelings involved.

As long as he doesn’t leave the toilet seat up.