Epoch (Transcend Duet #2)(83)

He’s twenty-four. Of course he’s going to date. I’m a little surprised last week was his first since he left six months ago. But maybe he’s been with other women, just not on dates.

He’s twenty-four. Young. Sexy.

I’d be an idiot to think he hasn’t been with someone else. And while it hurts, I can’t be jealous, or mad, or anything. I chose Daisy because at the time it didn’t feel like a choice.

But here’s the bottom line: Griffin killed Doug Mann to keep me safe. That’s an unpaid debt I will carry forever.

So he can date a million women. He can choose to never text or call me again. It’s the pass of all passes.

I owe him my life. He owes me nothing.





CHAPTER FORTY





Another week goes by. He’s not going to call.

Exercise becomes my go-to for my mental health. Whenever I start to feel a pity party coming on, I change my clothes and get my ass to the fitness center down the street. And I don’t come home until I’m ready to pass out.

Some days I make the drive into the mountains to climb a long trail. I like the air up there. I like the clarity. I like how small I feel. It’s where I always find perspective again.

“After you,” a young man holds open the door to my apartment building.

“Thank you.”

“You just move in?” he asks.

“Yeah.” I retrieve the mail from my box at the bottom of the stairs.

He unlocks a box two columns over from mine. “Well, I’ve been here for five years. So if you need someone to help you navigate the area, let me know. I’m in 4A. Sam.” He holds out his hand.

Sam. I grin. He stole my name. Good thing I didn’t make anything legal. Samantha and Sam would never work. I’m not implying I’m looking for anything to work. But since Nate let me go, and Griffin moved on, maybe I should keep my possibilities open for something.

I shake his hand. “Swayze.”

“Swayze. I like that.”

I chuckle. “Don’t. Please. If we’re going to be neighbors of sorts, I want to like you. But if you like my name, I fear we have nothing more to ever discuss.”

Sam laughs. “Fair enough. I hope to see you around soon.”

“Me too.” I smile.

I climb two flights of stairs behind him, and we share one last smile before he continues to the fourth floor while I make my way down the hallway of the second floor, thumbing through my mail. Mostly junk.

As I fish my key out of my pocket, I look up and stop, a little startled.

“Hey,” I say on a breathless exhale.

Griffin pushes off my door, holding up a white envelope. “Grocery money.”

“I gave you my phone number, not my address.” I take the envelope and slip it into my bag.

“Sorry it took me so long to get you the money.” He ignores my address comment.

I slide by him, unlocking my door. He smells of spearmint like he just stuck a new piece of gum in his mouth.

“You didn’t have to repay me at all.” I open the door and drop my bag on the floor.

“I don’t like to be indebted.”

I turn. He leans against the doorframe as I hold the door open.

“You could never be indebted to me.”

The tiniest amount of tension pulls at his brow. Does he know I know?

A little laugh escapes from my chest, a nervous attempt to break this awkward moment. “You don’t have to stand in the hall. You can come inside.”

“I need to get going.”

How long was he standing by my door? He had to have gotten my address from his mom or mine. He could have mailed me the money.

He owes me nothing. Nate said I wasn’t his to kiss. Well, I’m certain no part of Griffin is still mine.

“Okay.” I hold the door open with my hip, slipping my hands into the back pockets of my shorts.

Griffin’s gaze moves down my body. It’s so familiar. He’s done it hundreds of times before. I don’t let familiarity feed any false hope.

“Why Salt Lake City?”

I shrug. “It felt good. The mountains. The energy. I only signed a six-month lease, just to try it on—the city.”

He drops his head into a slow nod, wearing a contemplative look on his face.

These pauses of silence are painful.

“My mom is coming to visit next month. Have your parents and sisters been here to visit you?”

He shakes his head.

Words, Griff. Give me words or leave, but I’m dying here.

“Are you working at the Harley dealership?” I cringe. Why did I ask that? Oh yeah … because he’s just standing there saying nothing. I shake my head. “Sorry. You don’t have to answer that. I’m just … at a loss for words because you’re standing in my doorway, not talking, not leaving, and not coming inside. It’s just …”

“Sorry.” He takes a step back.

No. I don’t want him to leave. But I can’t ask him to stay.

This is goodbye. I feel it in my gut. Because if we would just make the choice, we could have this. But it’s too late. I can see it in his eyes, the eyes that shift to my chest. That’s when I realize I’m rubbing the heel of my hand over my heart.

Yes. It hurts.