Grip Trilogy Box Set - Kennedy Ryan Page 0,264

Luke, who watches me, both brows lifted in query.

“Uh, sure.” I shake my head to pull myself back in. “Wait, I didn’t actually hear what you said. What are they asking you to do?”

For the next few minutes, he details a segment the producers have set up showing him in the recording booth of the studio where we’re shooting.

“Yeah, that sounds great.” I glance at my phone, checking for missed calls or texts from Grip. Nothing. We don’t fight often, but when we do it’s a conflagration, burning everything to the ground, and right now I’m charred. Grip is usually the first to apologize. He’s a better person than I am, the bigger person, but not this time. I’m making the first move, and it’s on the next plane out of LA.

“I need to go to New York,” I say abruptly, cutting in on whatever Luke was telling me.

Luke’s startled expression morphs into understanding. “Is this about that Angie Black thing yesterday?”

Oh, that’s right—Luke knows. Everyone knows, because my life is an open book—and not the fairy-tale kind, more like a Stephen King novel.

Misery maybe?

“Yeah.” I gather my iPad and bag. “I was supposed to be there by now, but . . .”

I let him fill in the blank with my cowardice and avoidant behavior.

“You do realize most people don’t feel that way, right?” Luke asks with a kindness not typically found in this industry. “The things Angie said . . . I know there are some who agree, but most don’t. Look at all the support you guys got afterward.”

I was pleasantly surprised by all the flak Angie received, lots of it from black women wanting us to know they didn’t agree with Angie. It came from groups Grip has donated to, from cops he’s worked with who defended him. It was actually pretty amazing. There were, of course, those vocal in their support of Angie’s position, but it was heartening to see the support for us, too.

That still doesn’t fix the fact that I messed up.

“This is some high-profile shit, Bris,” Luke says. “But you can take it.”

“Taking it is easier said than done when ‘it’ is blasted all over every social media platform and your relationship is reduced to tacky hashtags by people who want to see it fail.”

To my absolute dismay, my voice shakes and I’m blinking back tears. I hate being reduced to this weak, teary girl. This time it’s not what they did to me. It’s how badly I’ve handled things.

“Hey.” Luke takes both my hands in his and dips his head to catch my eyes. “I was there the week you and Grip first met. I saw him love you for years, and I saw you try your best not to love him back. It’s never been more obvious to me that two people belong together. This is a bump in the road, and not even a bump of your own making. Somebody else’s biases shouldn’t be causing problems between you.”

Right now, Luke isn’t my client; he’s the friend I’ve known for more than a decade, since before the money and the fame, and he’s right. Urgency to make things right quickens my breath and smolders in my blood.

“You’re a wise man.” I pull my phone back out of my bag, my mind and fingers already racing ahead while I start searching for a flight. “I’ll have Sarah on set tomorrow, but I need to get to New York tonight.”

“Maybe.” Luke aims his megawatt smile over my shoulder. “Or maybe New York will come to you.”

Before I can fully process what he’s saying or turn to see what’s over my shoulder, a warm, familiar weight settles at my hip. That clean skin-deep scent I’ve come to associate with one person envelops me. I look up and over my shoulder to find Grip scanning my face with sober eyes.

“Hey.” That’s all he says, like he’s supposed to be here on the set of a reality TV show instead of in class, instead of in New York. His fingers tighten at the curve of my waist, though, belying the calm greeting. The tension rolls off his body and onto mine. I absorb it, feel it tightening the line of my mouth and clenching my hand around the strap of my bag.

“Dude.” Luke reaches for Grip’s free hand, doing that man clench handshake thing. “What’s up? Good to see you.”

“You, too.” Grip’s mouth relaxes into a smile for our longtime friend. “You think you big time