Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 158872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 530(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 530(@300wpm)
Voices from the living room rise, then cut off. A few seconds later, Griff’s bedroom door swings open. As soon as our eyes meet, his troubled expression shifts into relief.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Are you?”
He nods slowly and closes the door, leaning against it and swiping his hands over his face. “Yeah. I’m sorry about that.”
“It’s okay. I knew she lived downstairs. Figured I’d run into her eventually.” Tentatively, I add, “Is everything all right?”
“No.” He pushes away from the door and walks over to me. “What’re you looking at?” He takes my hands and turns toward the photo. “Ah, that’s one of my favorites.”
“Obviously.” I take a teasing glance around his bedroom. “It’s the only personal decoration in here.”
He leans down and presses his lips to my forehead, stopping and inhaling me. “When we have our own place, you can decorate at it any way you want.”
“Oh yeah? What if I want every room to be a different shade of purple with glitter accents?”
He chuckles and pulls away. “If it makes you happy, I’m down for a purple house.”
My heart flutters. A house with Griff. “I’ll be happy as long as we’re together.”
“Me too.” He blows out a long breath and runs his hand through his hair. “I don’t have time for this right now.”
I try not to flinch at his words. “I can go home.”
“No.” He rests his hands on my shoulders, gently squeezing. “Not you. Sorry.” He slowly jerks his chin toward the bedroom door. Exhaustion seems to dull his movements. “I don’t have time for my mother’s bullshit.”
“Is she okay?”
“I don’t fucking know. She wants to move again.” He flicks his gaze to the ceiling. “‘Get her head on straight,’” he adds in a sarcastic imitation of his mother’s voice.
“Where?”
“Jersey Shore?” He shrugs.
Not far enough. “With her boyfriend?”
“Yeah. She says he has a job lined up.”
Honestly, this sounds like the best possible news to me. “Are you worried about…?” It feels wrong to ask about his mother’s addiction. Even though he’s opened up to me about it before, prodding at something that’s so painful doesn’t seem right.
But he seems to understand exactly what I’m asking. “I don’t know. When she was living up north, she did okay.” His brows dip. “Actually, she didn’t relapse this bad until she moved back.” He lets out a humorless laugh. “I’m starting to think being around me is her main problem.”
“Don’t say that.” I reach out and squeeze his biceps. “It has nothing to do with you.” Unless being around Griff makes his mom realize what a shitty mother she’s been and that’s what drives her to use. But still, that’s no one’s fault but Tanya’s.
“I know.” He taps the side of his head. “In here.” He taps his chest. “In here? Not so much.”
“Well, I’m telling you. You’re a good son. You do as much as you can for her.” When she’s done so little for you your whole life. I leave that part unsaid. It seems cruel.
“Maybe that’s the problem. I enable her or something.” He runs his hands through his hair again. “It doesn’t matter. She’s going.” His lips slide into a pained smirk. “I didn’t exactly try to talk her out of leaving. I’ll lose the security deposit on her place, but whatever. I probably wasn’t getting it back anyway.” He snorts. “I’ll have to box all her shit and store it somewhere.”
“Wait, she’s leaving right now? And not…taking care of that stuff herself?”
“Nope. Live in the moment. The sea is calling her name.” He scrubs his hands over his face. “I’ll get it done between my job and all the stuff I’m doing to prepare for the show.”
Great, now we’ve moved on to my second least-favorite topic. “I know your mom doesn’t like me, so maybe she won’t want me going through her stuff, but I can help you out after school.” Only because I care about Griff and hate to see him so stressed.
“No.” He shakes his head. “No,” he says with more force as if he really hates the idea. “I don’t want you doing a damn thing for her. Most of the stuff I’ll probably toss in the dumpster. Anything sentimental she got rid of a long time ago. Anything of value she’s sold.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your problem, Molly.” His jaw tightens with stubbornness. “I shouldn’t even—”
“Griff, I love you.” I use my sternest tone. “If I can ease some of this stress for you, I want to help.”
“Maybe.” Regret clouds his eyes. “If there’s anything left I need to box and store here, maybe you can help me do that,” he concedes.
“Okay.” I rub my hand over his arm. “Maybe she’s right and a change of scenery will be good for her.” It’ll definitely be good for Griff not to have to worry about her every day when he has so many other things to do.