Dirty Letters(38)

In the distance, we could see the good doctor lying out on a lounge chair, surrounded by a variety of birds perched atop the surrounding bird feeders. I was glad to see Aiden had come through for me.

Luca’s jaw dropped. “This is a problem.”

“Why?”

“He may never want to go home, and then I’ll have to find another way to get back.”

“Well, we can leave him here in California, and I’ll take you back.” I winked.

She probably didn’t think I was half serious, but I would have loved to take a trip with her, to escape this craziness for a while and just enjoy the open road with Luca. Basically, leave Cole in LA and live as Griffin for a bit.

“Are you here in California for a while recording, or do you have any travel coming up?” she asked.

I cringed. “Actually, I have to fly to Vancouver in less than two weeks. We’re part of the lineup at a music festival out there. Until then, I’ll mostly be back in the studio, recording.”

Luca pushed out a smile, but I could see it was bullshit. “That’s great. I’m sure you’ll have a good time.”

I chose to not call her out on her comment. Time was ticking, and I didn’t want to waste another minute of it talking about how different our lives were. What I needed to do was show her that I was still Griffin—even when I was playing the part of Cole. “How about if I make us some breakfast and then we take a little trip in the RV?”

Luca immediately looked panicked. “I’m not good in traffic, Griffin.”

I figured she might say that, so I’d already mapped out a route that avoided the busiest roads. The twenty-minute trip might take us an hour, but I didn’t give a fuck because that hour would be spent with her by my side. “I know. We’ll avoid the 405 and leave about eleven, after rush-hour traffic passes.”

“Where would we go?”

I brushed a lock of hair from her face and looked into her eyes. “Can you just trust me that I won’t do anything to hurt you, love?”

Her fear was palpable, yet she took a deep breath in and nodded. That’s my girl.

Now, if only I don’t fuck this up . . .



It was a miracle to not hit traffic on the way to the studio. Seriously, a fucking miracle. The gods were definitely watching over me today, because in the years since I’d moved to LA, I’d never seen fewer cars than I did on the drive this morning. I’d talked Luca into letting me drive the RV—well, actually, she’d originally refused, but after pressing her up against the driver’s side door and kissing the shit out of her, she reluctantly agreed. For the first half of the drive, she sat white-knuckled in the passenger seat, holding on for dear life. But after a while, she eased into it and now it was me who was more nervous than she was. Not about the trip itself but about the piece of shit I was currently driving. I couldn’t believe she had driven this hunk of junk clear across the country. It pulled to the right and swayed with the slightest gust of wind.

“How old is this thing?”

“I’m not sure. It’s Doc’s sister’s. He said she’s had it for a long time. I know it’s older-looking, but it has barely any miles on it.”

I stopped at a stop sign, and the engine trembled and revved for a minute like it was stuck in gear before sputtering back to normal. “When was the last time the tires were checked? I think you have an alignment issue.”

Luca shrugged. “It pulls a little to the right. But you barely notice it when you’re going seventy on the interstate.”

Great. That makes me feel a lot better. We drove a few more blocks in silence, mostly because I was making a mental checklist of shit to set into motion once I got to where we were going.

Find an RV mechanic to go through this hunk of metal with a fine-tooth comb tonight.

Pick up a portable electronic navigation system to set up on the dash. The amount of folded maps and printed directions on the floor was truly mind-boggling. I couldn’t imagine Luca driving this big thing through Colorado, up and down the mountainous roads as it swayed in the wind, no less while looking at maps at the same time. It seriously freaked me the hell out. I’d be calling her all day, every day, until she got back to Vermont. Which reminded me . . .

Get Aiden to go to Best Buy and pick up a phone cradle, mount, and headset. When I called to check on her, it would be nice if she could answer without taking her eyes off the road.

We turned down the street of our intended destination, and I smiled. Aiden was standing curbside waiting for us and had done exactly what I’d asked. Seeing us approach in the RV, he waved and walked into the street to collect some of the orange cones he’d put out to reserve our spot. He’d also blocked off two car lengths in front and behind where the RV would be parked.

Luca looked at the man standing in the street and then at me. “Are we here? Who is that guy?”

“We’re here. And that’s my assistant, Aiden. I had him come early this morning to block a spot for us to park and make sure no one was parked too close to us.”

She looked around outside. “But where is here?” The blocks surrounding this particular recording studio were heavily industrial. It was mostly just old warehouses that had been turned into artist lofts, storage facilities, and various unmarked filming sets and music studios.

“This is where I’m recording today. But relax, I don’t expect you to come in. Give me a minute to park this thing, and I’ll explain.”