Page 33 of Run Home

Jeff places my drink in front of me, and Griffin orders the lobster-and-crab-cakes appetizer. I watch as Jeff and Noah work seamlessly around each other, both laughing and making conversation with customers around the bar. They weave back and forth crafting drinks, entering orders into the tablet, and serving customers, seemingly anticipating each other’s moves.

Taking a sip of the tart mocktail, I tip my glass toward the bartenders working in tandem. “I miss that, man,” I tell Griffin. “I miss you being out there, the way we could read each other’s minds. Working so flawlessly together. It’s not that way with Hendricks.”

Griffin scoffs rather loudly, and I look over at him. “You know it wasn’t that way with us instantly. It took a little bit for us to gel together.”

Frowning, I say, “I don’t remember it that way. We always got along.”

There’s a small smile on Griffin’s face when he says, “I’m not saying we didn’t get along. We were friends right away. But it took several months of playing together for us to get into that effortless rhythm. Months of practice plus me playing along with your ridiculous behavior more in order to get the best out of you.”

His statement makes me laugh. “I guess you’re right. Hendricks isn’t one for playing along, though.”

Griffin shrugs. “You’re the older, wiser one now. Maybe you need to play along to his tune to get the best out of him.”

Propping an elbow on the bar, I rub a hand across my goatee. “Hmmm. Maybe you’re on to something.” Griffin tips his head in a bow, so I add, “After all—you are the really old one.”

When Jeff delivers our appetizer, we order entrées—steak for Griffin and seared tuna for me—then Griffin tells me all about his guest spot on the sports talk show and the visit to New York City with Danae and Jason.

Noah brings out our entrées before we’ve even finished discussing the trip, and Griffin cuts into his steak to check the temperature. “I’ll be back with another round of drinks?” Noah asks as a question, and we both nod.

I’m one bite into my tuna when Griffin clears his throat and holds up his phone. His gray-blue eyes are piercing when he speaks. “So. Mind telling me what this is?”

Swallowing the tuna, I look at his phone, which displays a photo of the dance floor at the gala—including Sam and me slow dancing.

I take a sip of water.

“That was at the youth sports foundation gala. You knew we were going to that,” I hedge. “What’s the picture from?”

“A friend who was there sent me several photos from the night,” he answers. With his thumb and forefinger, he zooms in on the photo. Zooms in on my face gazing down at Sam.

Griffin gives me an even harder look. “Mind telling me what this is?” he emphasizes, pointing to my clearly lovestruck face in the photo.

Everything in my body goes still, aside from my heart kicking into panicked overdrive. I have no witty remarks, no teasing responses, no diversions.

Maintaining intense eye contact, Griffin lowers the phone to the bar. His voice is controlled when he asks, “Do you have a thing for my sister?”

My default setting is to make a joke or laugh things off when I feel uncomfortable. Anything to deflect attention from whatever I don’t want to acknowledge.

But I do want to acknowledge my feelings for Sam.

“Yeah. I do,” I state.

Griffin’s eyes narrow impossibly further. “Since when?”

Exhaling slowly, I say, “Probably about a year.”

Eyes widening, Griffin leans back. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” I say. Before I can share more, Jeff drops off drinks and asks if everything came out okay. We give positive but short responses, and Jeff seems to recognize our need for space.

Griffin gestures an open hand in my direction, a clear command to explain myself.

I do my best to keep eye contact, as uncomfortable as I might feel. I need Griffin to see my sincerity.

“I swear I didn’t see Sam this way back when she first moved here. She’s always been just a friend, and I’ve never said or done anything that would cross the line in the past,” I start. Pausing, I try to come up with the right words to explain the shift in how I saw her.

“Being up close while you fell in love with Danae, seeing you step into Jason’s life, watching you move on from baseball—it made me realize that despite all the fun experiences I’ve had in life, I’ve been missing out on the best experience out there. I saw in you that settling down isn’t settling at all,” I explain.

Griffin’s expression hasn’t shifted a millimeter, so I continue. “Honestly, I think I started to see Sam differently in the process of us pushing you and Danae together. I saw her in different situations than just your sister or personal assistant. I saw her with Jason. Watched her support Danae in so many ways. Watched her chase a dream with cosmetology school after years of helping you with your dream. She’s . . .” I trail off momentarily, then gently shake my head. “There’s no one else like her. Nothing compares. I haven’t been able to get her out of my head for the past year, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to. I don’t even want to at this point.”