Epoch (Transcend Duet #2)(62)

Our gazes meet again. It’s not like earlier today. It’s … peaceful. Maybe it’s acceptance. So I turn and let him carry my purse. I let him follow me into the house.

Yeah, I’ll flashback to Griffin Calloway for the rest of my life.

He sets my bag on the kitchen table and washes his hands. I make my way to the bedroom, grab a bag from the closet, set it on the bed, and start to put some clothes into it. I told my mom I’d be back to stay with her. She’s probably worried about me.

I walk back into the kitchen to grab my phone from my bag. Griffin has two plates on the counter, and he’s making sandwiches.

My lips find that tiny smile again as I tip my chin toward my phone, shooting off a text to my mom.

Me: Sorry, I’m running a little late. Packing my bag now and grabbing a sandwich. Be there soon.

Mom: OK. Text me when you leave so I can keep an eye out for you.

Me: Will do.

Griffin sets the two plates on the table, but he doesn’t look at me. He sits down and starts eating. I miss him already. Taking a seat next to him, we eat in silence. It’s sad, but comforting. And with no spoken words, we say so many things.

I’m sorry. Life’s not fair. This hurts. I’ll never forget you.

And when we’re both done, he finally looks at me. And it’s clear that the only words left are the ones that change nothing, but mean everything.

I love you.

When he takes our plates to the sink, I go back to the bedroom and finish stuffing a few things into my bag. I zip the bag and draw in a long breath, releasing it a little at a time along with the weight of the world while glancing around the room.

If I stayed, if I rented the house from Sherri and Scott, I’d have these memories. Some days they’d give me comfort, other days they’d suffocate me with grief. I guess that’s life, a steady pendulum. Balance is nothing more than a breath in the middle. Maybe at night, I could pretend that he’s next to me in bed; maybe then I could find balance and take a breath.

I think I can do this—I can survive on one good breath a day.

Griffin startles me when he sneaks up behind me, reaching around to grab my bag. His chest brushing my back. Of course he’s going to be the gentleman, the protector, and walk me to the car.

Thunk.

He drops my bag on the floor.

I turn. Our eyes meet. He grabs my face and kisses me. It’s hard and demanding. It’s impossible to breathe. That’s okay … I only need one good breath. I’ll catch it later.

He erases every trace that another man held me—kissed me. It’s not right and it’s not wrong. It simply is.

It’s Griffin and Swayze.

And maybe this is futile, a team down by twenty points with ten seconds left in the game. But who doesn’t love watching the losing team play hard until the clock runs out?

Griffin pulls back, breathless and beautifully haunted as he gazes upon me. Is he making sure all he sees is his Swayz?

He shrugs off his shirt. I shrug off mine. And we kiss again, leaving it all on the field. His hands fist my hair as my fingernails dig into his back.

It’s not a race. We’re slow to make a pile of clothes on the floor. There are too many kisses to be had to rush anything. The future holds no promises, so we take our time making another memory.

It’s a good one.

He eases my naked body onto the bed beneath his.

“I know every curve of your body … I know what each curve feels like under my hands.”

I love his hands. In my favorite dreams, they were made to touch me. Only me. Always me.

He takes his leisurely time making sure his lips touch every inch of my flesh. I writhe beneath him, committing this feeling to the deepest parts of my soul. If I take something with me when I die, this time it’s going to be how incredibly revered I feel by this man.

*

Griffin

I’m letting her go and it fucking hurts. Finders keepers doesn’t apply to humans. But she’s here now and so I’m taking now, and I’ll take every minute of later that she gives to me—only me. Then I will walk away. I’ll let her find what’s missing, but I just can’t be here when she realizes it’s not me.

For now, I’m leaving my touch everywhere. When he touches her, I want her to remember my lips were here first.

I roll her onto her stomach. She arches her back, stretching her neck up. “Griff …” she murmurs as I drop kisses down the length of her spine. Her arms stretch over her head, hands clawing at the sheets. She’s never looked more beautiful, bowed beneath my touch.

If this were our life, I could keep her for eternity. She loves me. Swayze loves me.

But this isn’t our life. This is just a small reward for surviving the hard stuff.

As I tease the curve of her ass with my teeth. She lifts onto her elbows, glancing at me over her shoulder.

I kiss the teeth marks, looking up at her with a grin. She smiles in spite of the glassy emotions held hostage in her eyes.

“Are you marking me?”

“Yes.” I bite a little lower.

Another bite. And another …

She giggles, squirming until she’s escaped to the top of the bed, back pressed to the headboard.

I’m not sure what hurts more, the grenade exploding in my own chest or knowing that beneath that smile of hers, she’s wrecked and lost. And there’s nothing I can do to make it better. Stretching out my legs toward her, I crook a finger.