Slow Agony (Assassins, #2)(41)

He yanked back wrapping on his burger, baring enough of it that he could bite, but covering enough that he could hold it with one hand. He used the other to back out of the parking lot. “It’s only that I’m very confused when it comes to you.”

“Sorry.” I munched on my burger, which had just the right amount of spiciness.

“You don’t have to keep saying you’re sorry.”

“Sorry.” Then I realized, and I winced. “Oops.”

He smirked.

“I’m confused too,” I said. “I know that everything’s a big mess right now, and that we’re in danger, and we could die, but, for some reason, I’m happier to be with you than I was when you were gone.”

He glanced at me quickly. “Really?” He looked back at the road.

“Things were really hard after you left. I wasn’t sure I was going to make it.”

“Yeah, I haven’t been doing really well either,” he said. He took a bite of his burger, and I had to wait while he chewed. “I feel lost without you, doll. I do.”

“Griffin, I feel like that too.”

He shook his head. “I trusted you so much. I don’t trust other women that way. I mean, I can’t even be intimate with anyone else. Maybe that means something, I don’t know.”

I ate a curly fry. “Griffin, as much as I want you back, I don’t want it to be because you think you can only be with me. I’m sure if you spent time with someone else, you’d be able to... you know.” It made me slightly ill to think about it, but I wanted him to want me, to choose me, not to be with me because I was his only option.

“Maybe,” he said.

We both concentrated on our food for a while.

“But I think about the abortion,” he said. “Whenever I see you, I think about it. And I feel betrayed.”

My voice was quiet. “Maybe I feel a little betrayed too.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever get past it,” he said.

I wanted to tell him that he would. Of course he would. I wanted to tell him that we’d get through it together. But I wasn’t sure about any of those things. So I kept my mouth shut.

*

Griffin’s family lived in San Antonio. I was asleep when Griffin nudged me to tell me that we were parked two blocks from their house and that he was going to go check it out.

I barely understood him, because I was still half asleep, so I made some noises and tried to get comfortable again.

I was in a car, so that wasn’t happening.

Gradually, I came to terms with the fact that I was awake. Really awake. And that Griffin had left me alone to go check out his family’s house. Which was a really bad idea for numerous reasons.

I had to stop him.

I started to get out of the car, but Griffin was back, sliding back inside. “Hey.”

“You idiot! What if someone was watching the house? What if they’d tried to hurt you?”

“They didn’t,” said Griffin. “And everyone’s okay in the house. My mom and sister are both sleeping like babies. It’s fine.”

“Unless you just led Marcel to your family.”

“No way,” he said. “There’s no way he followed me.”

I crossed my arms over my chest.

“Cheer up,” he said. “I’ll drive you by the Alamo.”

I rolled my eyes. I’d seen the Alamo last Christmas. It was kind of a let down. It was just a little stone house sitting in a lawn right next to the biggest mall I’d ever seen. The mall was actually cooler than the Alamo. “I don’t want to go to the Alamo.”

“So, how about Austin, then? It’ll only take us about an hour.” Last Christmas, his sister had told us all about the Southern Congress neighborhood in Austin and how cool it was. She’d wanted to take us, but we hadn’t had enough time on our trip.

I remembered that I’d really wanted to go, but now did not seem at all like the time for us to act like tourists. “Griffin, I feel like you’re not taking this seriously.”

“I’m glad my family’s okay, that’s all.”

Griffin didn’t make it to Austin. He got tired. I was tired too. We pulled the car off somewhere in the wilderness that seemed to be all there was between San Antonio and Austin and slept until morning.

When we woke up, we went to a gas station to use the bathroom and get freshened up. There was a crock pot of tamales next to the squirty fake nacho cheese. I bought some.

“I love Texas,” I told Griffin as we continued our journey.

“Because of tamales in a crock pot?” he asked, chewing on the one I’d bought for him.

“That and because of jalapenos everywhere.”

He laughed. “That’s my spicy doll.”

My insides felt melty. “I am yours,” I whispered.

He flinched. “I didn’t mean to... Dammit.”

And then neither of us said anything, but I felt a lot like crying.

*

“Two rooms? You’re lucky we got anything at all,” said the guy behind the counter at the Austin Motel. “Only reason we’ve got this vacancy is a cancellation. We book pretty far in advance here.” He leaned forward. “Julia Roberts stays here sometimes.”