Page 77 of Run Home

Griffin asks, “How much have you talked with Adrian about your history?”

The hope deflates.

Spinning my glass with renewed vigor, I look down and say, “Ummm, not a whole lot.”

I’d like to avoid eye contact because I know exactly what look is going to be on Griffin’s face. I keep spinning the glass, hoping he’ll say something to break the silence. When he doesn’t, I sigh and meet his “come on, Sam” look.

“You have a solid foundation of friendship for your relationship,” Griffin reiterates. “But there will forever be cracks in the foundation if you don’t fill in the gaps for Adrian. I haven’t told him a lot because I want to honor what’s yours to share. But he needs to know, Sam. He deserves to understand you.”

Panic flutters in my chest. “But I’ve done a lot of growth work in the last five years. A lot. Amber even said so. If past things aren’t going to be an issue, if I can handle them now, then maybe I don’t need to dump everything on him. Why drag him down if I’m able to hold it together?”

Griffin’s expression borders on stern. “Sam, you know that’s not how it works.”

“But maybe it can!” My voice has spiked higher than private-conversation level, and I swallow hard to lower my heart rate and my tone. “Maybe I can.”

My chin trembles, and I look down, voice cracking when I say, “I love him. I don’t want to lose him.”

Griffin’s hand clasps mine, and I meet his gaze.

“Give Adrian some credit. Your past isn’t going to scare him away,” Griffin states, tone tender but firm. “But it’s not fair to him to expect to have a healthy relationship when he doesn’t have all the information. Maybe talk with Amber about it and see what she thinks.”

Sputtering a breath through my lips, I confess, “She already told me the same thing. That I need to share with him.”

Griffin lifts one hand with a wordless I told you so.

“So why haven’t you?” he asks.

I can’t stop the flood of tears to my eyes. Wildly twirling the glass in front of me with my free hand, truth tumbles out. “Because I’m ashamed. Because I wish it didn’t exist. Because I wish I could just be better, be normal. Because I want to be able to handle this myself without dragging other people down with me. Because I wish I wasn’t so messed up that it required a trauma conversation with my boyfriend.”

Pressure uncomfortably mounts in my chest, and I wish I wasn’t in public so I could tap my hands against my sternum without looking like a lunatic.

Griffin pries my hand away from the glass, caging both my hands between his and pressing them firmly together. The gentle pressure helps ground me in the moment, keeps me from completely spiraling.

“You’re not messed up, Sam. We love you. Me. Danae and Jason. Mom and Dad. Sawyer, Miranda, Ian, Alice. You haven’t drug anyone down. Our lives are better with you in them, and we all love you one hundred percent, forever,” Griffin says.

His use of Danae’s “I love you” explanation phrase for Jason hits me with a new wave of emotion. Exhaling slowly, I twist my face to wipe my tears on my shoulder without letting go of Griffin’s hands.

I can tell he’s contemplating his next words, so I wait silently until he says, “At the risk of saying something too far ahead of where you are in your relationship, I think I can include Adrian in that list. I think you’ve found your person in Adrian. So let him be your person—let him know you. All of you. He deserves that. You deserve that, Sam.”

Griffin gives my hands an abrupt squeeze, a silent signal that the server is bringing plates to the table. I quickly pretend to search for something in my purse while he thanks the server.

When I look back to Griffin, I can see in his face that it’s my turn to talk. My turn to respond. My turn to admit he’s right.

But words are frozen in my chest, a massive block of incoherent emotions and fears.

I stare at Griffin, and I know he can see everything in my eyes. After a few more seconds of silence, he says, “I agree with Amber. I do think you can trust yourself more in this relationship. But you also need to trust Adrian. Maybe try journaling again. Write out how you might explain things. You could even read it straight to him so you don’t have to think of words on the spot. At least promise me you’ll think about it.”

Clearing my throat, I shake free enough words to whisper, “I will. I promise.”

It’s a promise I know I should keep.

But I’ve never been more afraid to keep a promise.

Chapter thirty

Adrian

“It’s like my little piece of home in my home,” I explain to the interviewer, trying to remember not to look straight at the camera too much. I’ve done plenty of direct-to-camera interviews, but this is supposed to be casual B-roll footage showing them around my house. Motioning toward the palm branch wallpaper, I joke, “A Venezuelan oasis in Kansas.”