Epoch (Transcend Duet #2)(86)

I wipe my eyes and shake my head.

“No?” He stops just in front of me, so close I can feel the heat of his body.

“No,” I whisper, meeting his gaze. Missing the depths of those whisky eyes.

“I think you need to know.”

I close my eyes. “No.”

Spearmint seeps into my nose. He’s close. Incredibly close.

“Ginny is perfect for you.” Not a lie.

“I don’t want Ginny.”

Pain floods my chest, to the pit of my stomach.

“I want you to know what he said before he died.”

More tears escape as I squeeze my eyes shut tighter. “Why?” I manage between strangled breaths.

His hand touches my cheek. My body shakes with emotion.

“Because I want you. And the only way I can have you is if you know everything.” His words carry so much weight, so much anguish.

Opening my eyes, I reach for him. He steps back, dropping his hand from my face and grabbing the doorknob. I step aside, feeling desolate again.

“There’s not a middle for us. It has to be all or nothing.”

Sucking in a shaky breath while hugging my arms to my body, I nod once.

He starts to shut the door, but stops halfway. “Cash the check.” The door clicks shut.





CHAPTER FORTY-TWO





I get it.

He killed Doug. I am the indebted one.

But I’ve come so far. Let so much go. I don’t want to relive the past.

Not anymore.

Part of me fears the possibility that a dozen other restless souls live inside of me. I don’t want to go backwards. Never again.

It’s like the world knows when we need to find each other and when we need space. It’s been a week since Griffin came to my apartment, and we haven’t bumped into each other since then.

I’ve thought about going to him, but I don’t know his phone number or his apartment number. So either fate puts us in the same place again, or he has to come to me.

Griffin has become Beth’s obsession since I told her we used to be engaged. She’s twenty-seven with an adoring husband and a three-year-old son—but my story is her happy escape.

“Do you have a tampon?” she whispers a few minutes before our spin class starts.

“Oh … um …” I hop off my bike. She follows me to the cubbies. I dig through my purse and pull out a tampon that looks like it’s been buried at the bottom of my purse for a year. My nose wrinkles. “Sorry. The wrapper is still intact.”

“Lifesaver.” She snags it from my hand. “Here.” She bends down. “This fell out of your purse.”

I take the envelope. “Thanks.”

She scurries off to the ladies room.

Shit. I was supposed to cash Griffin’s check. I slide my finger across the seal of the envelope, opening it.

There’s a check and a sticky note with his phone number.

It’s been right here in my purse for weeks. I glance at the check. It has his address and apartment number on it.

And because I’m such an idiot who refuses to accept my awesome name, he made the check out to Samantha Samuels.

I grin, shaking my head.

Cash the check.

After class, I shower and run up four flights of stairs because I’m too impatient to wait for the elevator. I knock on his door with one hand while peeling my shirt away from my sweaty skin.

I should have waited for the elevator.

He opens the door. Chatter and laughter spill into the hallway.

“Hi.” His eyes widen in surprise.

I crane my neck to see past him. NASCAR is on the TV. Our old TV. And there are a dozen or so people, men and women, mingling in his apartment.

He’s having a party and I didn’t get an invite. Well, this is wonderfully awkward.

Something tells me he’s not wanting to discuss the details of how he killed a man and what that man said before taking his last breath.

“Wow.” I hold up my hands and take a step back. “I should have called. My bad.”

“We’re just watching the race and hanging out. Come in.”

I shake my head. “I don’t want to crash your party.”

He chuckles. “I didn’t say you had to crash it. If you can behave, then you’re more than welcome to come in.”

Taking a deep breath, I paste on my best smile and step over the threshold to his apartment. He closes the door as I force myself deeper into the small crowd of people, catching a few smiles here and there from a roomful of strangers.

As I worm my way toward the kitchen, praying there’s some sort of alcohol, I freeze. There’s a blonde with her back to me, just a few feet in front of me.

Swayze 2.0.

I can’t believe he invited me into his apartment with her here. Before she turns, I pivot to make a beeline for the door. This was a horrible idea.

Smack.

I run into Griffin’s broad chest. Whatever he had in his red cup just slopped down the front of both of us.

I grimace as he holds the dripping cup away from our bodies.

“Shit. I’m sorry.”

“What were you doing?” He frowns at his wet shirt.

I lean in and lower my voice. “I was leaving because you invited me to come in and Ginny is here. That’s awkward. Why would you do that?”