Epoch (Transcend Duet #2)(51)

“Five?” Griffin releases my hand and slips his hands in the pockets of his coat.

“Five.” I lift my shoulders to my ears to block the wind.

He nods, turns, and walks down the steps.

“Griff?”

He turns.

I drop my bag by the front door, make my way down the four steps, and throw my arms around his neck. “You’re my favorite person in the whole world. My love … my friend … my grocery store guy.” I bury my face into the warmth of his neck. “Know that. Always know that.”

He doesn’t hug me back. And that’s okay. He’s dropping me off on the doorstep of the man whose picture he found in my pocket. This is on me. All of it. He’s mine to love or mine to lose.

Without meeting his gaze—because I know it would break me—I pull away and run up the stairs, grabbing my bag before disappearing behind the front door. Leaning my back against it, I try to calm my breath, holding back the tears.

“I’m glad to see you got a ride,” Nate calls from the kitchen.

I slip off my coat and boots.

“Good morning. How were the roads?” he asks.

I smile at little Miss Morgan working the sloth crawl. “Typical early winter snow. Slick. And riddled with drivers sliding into each other. It’s Wisconsin, not Texas. How do people forget their winter driving skills so easily?”

Nate hands me a cup of coffee. “Eight more inches expected later today. It’s going to make for a fun commute home.”

“Thanks.” I take a sip. “Good thing I have a driver today.”

“Good man.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “I don’t think you’d say that if you knew what the last twelve hours have been like for me.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” Setting the mug on the counter, I turn my attention to Morgan. She grins when I get down on the floor with her, tempting her with a toy. When I start to speak, my voice cracks. It’s raw. Very raw. Clearing my throat, I start again like I’m reporting the news instead of sharing my anguish. “Griffin wants me to quit and move away with him.”

After a few seconds of silence, I look over my shoulder. Maybe Nate didn’t hear me. His brows are drawn so tightly they look like one instead of two.

He heard me.

“Really?”

“Yes. Really.”

Nate nods once. “So are you giving me your notice?”

I turn back to Morgan, pivoting her the other way so she doesn’t get frustrated with her head hitting the sofa since her crawl doesn’t involve a reverse mode yet. “I don’t know. I don’t want to move. But …”

“Is it his job?”

“He doesn’t want me to pursue anymore with Dr. Albright. The hypnosis.”

“So don’t. But why does that mean you have to move?”

“Don’t? I have this person inside of me, and I don’t know her. She’s the key to putting a murderer behind bars.” I stand, picking up Morgan and bouncing her as she starts to fuss. “This isn’t like returning something to the store. Moving isn’t going to erase Daisy from my head.”

“Is that truly what he thinks?”

Glancing out the window, I blow out a slow breath. “He found the picture of you in the pocket of my jeans.” When I return my gaze to Nate, his eyebrows shoot up his forehead.

“Swayze …”

“I shouldn’t have taken it. I shouldn’t have carried it around in my pocket. A million different I shouldn’t haves, but I can’t change what’s happened. It’s just not fair of him to ask me to quit my job and leave my family because he doesn’t …” I bite back my words, with a wrinkle of pain on my face.

“He doesn’t want you near me.” Nate rubs his lips together, nodding slowly.

“I know. It’s ridiculous. And—”

“It’s not.” Sadness crinkles the corners of his eyes as they narrow a bit.

“What do you mean?”

He scoffs. “Swayze, you had a picture of another man in your pocket. Not a ninety-nine cent baseball card of your favorite player. How did you expect him to react?”

“So you think this ultimatum he’s giving me is justified?”

“Ultimatum?” He hands me Morgan’s bottle as she starts to fuss some more.

I sit in the chair and give it to her. “Yes. He didn’t suggest I quit and we move. He told me he’s leaving with or without me the first of the year.”

“Then go.”

My jaw unhinges. “W-what are you talking about? What about Morgan? What about Doug Mann? Daisy? My mom? His family?”

“What about you?” He hikes his bag onto his shoulder. “Do you love him? Is he the one?”

Tears prick my eyes. I blink them away. “You’re defending him.”

Nate frowns, walking toward the chair. He kisses Morgan on the head. And then he kisses me on the head. I hate that I want him to do it. I hate that it feels so natural and expected. “Maybe I am.” He stands straight.

“Why?”

With a soft chuckle, he scratches the stubble on his chin and jaw. “If I were Griffin’s age … never mind his age. Hell, at my age, if I had a fiancée and I found a photo of another guy in her pocket, I’d hunt him down and knock his head straight off his body.”