Epoch (Transcend Duet #2)(85)

I can’t berate myself too much for not seeing his bike or truck. And coming and going from the building is all about timing. I’ve probably only encountered maybe a dozen other tenants in the four weeks I’ve been here.

But … HOLY SHIT! Griffin lives in my apartment building.

And Swayze 2.0 knows where he lives. Has she been to his apartment? Probably. I mean … we had sex on our third official date. I bet she doesn’t vomit at the end of a blowjob. Swayze 2.0 wouldn’t do that.

Oh the irony. Griffin didn’t want to stay in Madison for so many reasons, but I’m certain the biggest reason was Nate. He didn’t want to watch me fall in love with another man.

And here I am, watching him date a better version of me. That’s very sweet of you, Fate. It really is.

After a shower, I work on a business flyer for a client, and scroll through a few photos Nate sent me of Morgan. Always just her. He’s never in any of them.

There’s a knock at my door. The first knock at my door since I moved here. I’m only a little surprised to see Griffin on the other side of the peephole, all freshly showered in a white tee and ripped jeans.

Pressing my head against the door, I take a few breaths to calm myself down.

He knocks three times again. I unlock the door and open it, greeting him with a less-than-chilled smile.

“The day I paid you back, I should have told you I lived in this building. I’m sorry.”

Free pass for the rest of his life.

“No apologies. Ever.” I manage to get my lips to do something genuine. It feels like the way I used to grin at him.

“Can I come in?”

A shiver of emotions washes along my skin, bringing tears to my eyes that I quickly blink away as I avert my gaze. “Yeah. Of course. Come in.”

The apartment is smaller than my last apartment. Everything is in one room except for a tiny closet and the bathroom.

Griffin walks around, stopping at the window. “I’m on the same side of the building. Four floors up.”

“I love the view.”

He nods, hands in his pockets, back to me. “What are the chances that I see you at the grocery store on the day I forgot my wallet? What are the chances that I see you on the day that I had my first date since you? What. Are. The. Fucking. Chances?”

He faces me, leaning up against the window ledge. I don’t react. I’m not sure what the answers are to his questions. My ass stays planted against the front door in case I need to flee for oxygen.

“Don’t even get me started on the chances of you renting an apartment in my building.”

I am the queen of what are the chances. It’s amazing that anything surprises me at this point. Pigs could fly and I don’t think I’d give them a second glance.

“Ginny moved here two months ago.”

Here we go. My hand moves to the doorknob, just in case.

“She’s my boss’s niece. It’s not my style to date anyone related to my boss or even another employee. Things can get messy. I don’t like messy.”

It’s hard to keep this neutral expression. My face wants to contort into shame. I was the definition of messy.

His gaze trails around the room. It’s a little messy too. “After meeting her at work, I thought it might not be a terrible idea after all. She’s nice. And funny. Easy to talk to.”

Stab. Stab. Stab.

It’s fine. The man who saved my life is allowed to torture me. I’m completely at his mercy for the rest of my life.

My grip on the doorknob tightens.

“But then you showed up—fucking appeared out of nowhere.” His voice permeates a little grit, thickening the air in the room.

The muscles in his jaw pulse several times.

“I’ll leave,” I say. “I’ll go wherever you want me to go. Back to Madison. Seattle. Dallas. New Zealand.” I fight the emotion growing in my throat. “I’ll go to Hell if you want me to.”

Tears fill up my eyes.

He flinches. “Why would you say that?”

I choke out a painful laugh, feeling that old but familiar edge of insanity. “You killed a man for me. Every breath of oxygen my lungs draw in has your name on it. I owe you my life. So I’ll live that life absolutely anywhere you want me to live it.”

His hardened expression fades into pure anguish.

I blink to release the tears blurring my view of him. “The hypnosis didn’t work. I couldn’t remember. But I was so scared.”

Even now, I still remember how scared, angry, and hopeless I felt banging on Doug’s apartment door.

“I went to his apartment with a bottle of sedatives and a knife.”

“Jesus …” he says.

My eyes glaze over, seeing visions of my defeated fist resting on his door when the man told me he was dead.

“I hated you for leaving me without saying goodbye. I hated myself for thinking I would remember what happened to her. And I hated him for killing an innocent child and a young woman. There was this part of me that knew there had to be more. More deaths. More lives lost.”

I shrug, shifting my jaw side to side, gaze affixed to the floor between us. “If I didn’t kill him, the anger, fear, and guilt were going to kill me.”

His black boots come into view. I lift my head, tracking his path to me.

“Do you want to know what he said before he died?”