Written in Ink (Montgomery Ink #4)(48)

“I can’t,” he said softly. “Yet,” he added when Decker stared at him.

“Okay, then,” Jake said after a moment. “When you’re ready, we’re here. Or, hell, any of the Montgomerys would be. Just remember that.”

Griffin nodded and set down his beer. “Thanks.” He cleared his throat and let thoughts of Autumn settle into the back of his mind as they were prone to. She never quite left his thoughts. And that worried him, as well. “Now, whose ass do I get to kick?” he asked as he stole Jake’s controller from his hands. “I’m playing one-handed so I get extra points to start, right?”

“Asshole,” Jake mumbled. “It was my turn, but whatever. Play Decker, and I’ll play the loser.” He winked. “Or the loserest loser.”

Decker rolled his eyes and Griffin groaned. “Jesus. We need better comebacks. We’re too old to sound like eight-year-old boys playing Minecraft.”

“Truth,” Decker added. “And no, Griffin. You don’t get extra points. You break the hand, you deal with the consequences. And the losses. Jake, go get us a couple more beers since you’re twiddling your thumbs over there.”

Jake flipped them off then went to the kitchen while Griffin settled into the couch. He might not know what he was going to do with Autumn, but he at least knew he had something. He could breathe for the moment.

And when he let the thoughts come back in full force, he’d worry about Autumn.

He would figure it out.

He had to.





Chapter Fourteen


Autumn’s hands hurt from the amount of typing she’d done that day without actually speaking to Griffin beyond a murmured assent here or there. It was awkward as hell, and she didn’t know how to fix it. They hadn’t even kissed during their breaks.

Had she broken them?

Had he?

Hell.

She needed a hot bath.

And her bed.

Her bed sounded wonderful. Magical even.

And it had nothing to do with his bed. She would be able to breathe and enjoy the rest of her night, which would include leftover pizza and sleep. She couldn’t wait. And when she did all of that, she’d ignore the fact that Griffin hadn’t done anything different to her except what he hadn’t done. He’d acted the same as always, and yet she’d wanted more from him. That was on her.

She’d run, and he’d let her.

She’d run, and now she didn’t know what to do next.

Autumn hated not knowing what to do. She’d run before because of it, and people had gotten hurt. She only had herself to blame.

But maybe she didn’t have to leave…maybe things were different this time.

That was the first time she’d ever thought something like that. It was dangerous.

She knew she shouldn’t have run like she had when Griffin had asked her to stay the night. She’d been practically naked at the time, and running around in heels and no panties with her skirt hiked up over her hips just made her look like an idiot. An idiot with secrets to be kept. Griffin had asked her before what her secrets were, even going as far as to try and kiss them out of her, but she’d held strong. But she hadn’t missed the curiosity in his eyes, the hurt that he felt because she wouldn’t tell him.

She couldn’t tell him.

He loved solving mysteries, and Autumn Minor was the greatest mystery of all.

She pulled into her driveway and grabbed her bag. It didn’t surprise her that even as she’d run out of his home nearly naked and dressing quickly, she’d grabbed her bag on the way out. It was her life, her sanity. Without it and the things in her trunk, starting over once again wouldn’t be nearly impossible.

Autumn groaned as she shuffled to her postage stamp of a front porch. She was just so tired. She hadn’t slept the night before with thinking of Griffin and how she’d left things. Then today she’d spent most of her energy trying to act like everything was normal when it clearly wasn’t.

She was so in her head that she’d almost missed the fact that her front door was cracked open. She froze, the hairs on the back of her neck rising. She calmly and methodically pulled out her pepper spray. She didn’t go inside—she was smarter than that.

He could be waiting for her in there.

He could be waiting for her out here.

She quickly looked through her window since she was close enough to see, and bit her lip so she wouldn’t call out. Someone had trashed her place. Her couch was on its side—ripped open with what looked like a very sharp knife. Her books and clothes were in shreds on her floor, and everything that had been in her fridge was smeared on the carpet and walls.

There would be no going back inside to get what was left of her belongings. There would be no more Denver for Autumn. She gripped her weapon in her hand, the pain from typing all day all but forgotten as her adrenaline surged. She looked over her shoulder then ran to her car.

Before, she would have gone slowly, trying to act casual, but not this time. She didn’t have the strength to not call attention to herself. As it was, her neighbors obviously hadn’t even noticed a strange man tearing up her house. She knew full well it could have been a robbery in this neighborhood, but her instincts were screaming to run and find a safe place. This wasn’t random.

This was him.

Her hands shook as she unlocked her car door with the plastic fob and jumped inside. Her bag ended up underneath her in the rush, but she didn’t care. She slammed her car door shut, locked them all, and had the vehicle started by her next breath. She peeled out of the driveway, at least cautious enough to look behind her in case she hit another car or something. Anything that would keep her in his presence longer couldn’t happen.