Epoch (Transcend Duet #2)(36)

“Pickles. They forgot my pickles.”

“Fuck the pickles.” His attention returns to the road.

“Well …” I murmur, “it’s an option, but not really my thing.”

My humor falls flat on my audience of one.

“Why?”

I slide my hands beneath my legs to tame the nerves. “Because Doug Mann needs to be in prison. Because I won’t feel safe until he is. Because this patchy memory has left me feeling like I’m anchored to the past and losing sight of my future.”

“This has gone too far. Reincarnation? Hypnosis? Murder mystery? Do you hear yourself?”

“You don’t believe me.”

“I don’t know what to believe!” His knuckles blanch over the steering wheel.

“Then believe me. Trust me. Help me.”

A cynical laugh cuts through the air. “Help you? How am I supposed to help you?”

“By not getting so miffed about me running late to a bowling outing because I have a job and a therapy appointment. By not freaking out every time I mention the past or Daisy or Nate.”

He parks the truck and hops out. I guess this topic is on hold until we’re done bowling a few rounds. This should be loads of fun.

To my surprise, he comes around and opens my door. I unfasten my seatbelt and swing my legs around, but before I can hop out, he wedges himself between my legs. The arms I love encircle my body while he rests his forehead against my chest.

“You drive me fucking crazy.”

I nod several times, even though he can’t see me.

“If I believe you, then I sure as hell don’t want you being hypnotized to remember anything more. If I don’t believe you, then it’s going to piss me off if you waste time and money on something so insane.”

I kiss his head, tickled by the stubbly surface of the tiniest outgrowth of hair. Uncontrolled thoughts of Nate pop into my mind. A kiss on the head isn’t necessarily innocent, it can be intimate like it is when my lips press to Griffin’s head. What does Nate feel when he kisses my head?

“I need to feel safe. Don’t you want that for me?”

His head lifts, sincerity resolute in his expression. “I would never let anything happen to you.”

“I know, but you’re not with me all of the time. He was inches from me in a parking lot and you weren’t there. I don’t want this life, Griff.”

My eyes close on a heavy blink when his hands press to my cheeks.

“You won’t have this life. I promise.”

I love him for making this promise, even if it’s one he might not be able to keep. There’s a reason I’ve always felt safe with Griffin. I just hope when I need his safety the most … he’s close enough to hear my cry for help.

“Let’s go.” He takes my hand and helps me out before tucking me under his arm—my hero.





CHAPTER SIXTEEN




Griffin


Swayze is a terrible bowler. She’s also a skittish bird whenever one of the guys from work gives her shit about something. On the surface, she doesn’t fit into my world. But in a way that lungs need oxygen and a heart needs blood, she’s vital to my life.

I don’t know for certain that Doug Mann killed Erica, nor do I know that he killed Morgan Daisy Gallagher. What I do know is that he got too close to the oxygen in my lungs and the blood in my heart.

“Can I say your little fiancée is sexy as fuck without you slashing my throat?”

I take a swig of my bottled water, lean back in the chair, and watch Swayze’s perfect ass as she throws another ball in the gutter. “If you weren’t my boss, I’d say no. But I’ll let it slide because you’re right, and I want to keep my job. But if you say a word to her, look at her for more than five seconds at a time, or let your hand so much as graze her hand … fuck the job. I’ll end you.”

He chuckles, taking a slow pull of his beer. “Fair enough.”

“Griff, I suck at this.” She shoots me a pouty face with her lower lip protruding as she waits for her ball to return.

“Maybe it’s all the cheap wine. Should I cut you off?”

Her head jerks back, face sour. “No. I haven’t had that much … uh …” Wrinkles form along her brow.

“Wine, Swayz. We’re talking about wine. And the fact that you can’t remember that long enough to finish a sentence just proves that you’ve had too much. I’m cutting you off.”

A few of my friends and their significant others snicker.

She grabs the ball and swings it back. We all flinch because it would be the third time she’s released it in the wrong direction. Thankfully, she holds on to it. “Then I’m cutting you off too.”

I smirk. “Of water?”

She heaves it. Two seconds later, the ball clunks in the gutter. Looking over her shoulder, she scowls at me like it’s my fault she’s sucking ass at bowling tonight. “Sex, buddy. No wine for me, then no sex for you.”

The snickers return for a second round of the Griffin and Swayze Show, but this time they’re muffled behind fisted hands because they know better than to make fun of me. Payback is my favorite game.

I crook my finger at her as Breanna, Derek’s date for the night, stands up to take her turn.