Grip Trilogy Box Set - Kennedy Ryan Page 0,63

what ‘sadity’ means, so I seriously doubt I’m being it.”

“Sorry.” His laugh rolls over me. “It means uppity. Stuck up.

Jade’s had it hard. Don’t judge her.”

“Me, judge her?” My eyes pop open, and I sit up, hand pressed to my chest and eyes stretched wide. “She’s the one who called me a bitch before she even knew my name.”

I lie back only to snap up into a sitting position again. “Oh, and again after she knew my name.”

“She isn’t the most polite, I give you that.”

“And apparently, when I finally meet your mother it won’t go any better.”

That was the absolute wrong thing to say, and I don’t examine what prompted me to say it. I’ve never actually met Grip’s mother, but I know they’re incredibly close. I never plan to be “the one” he takes home to Mama, but to think she would disapprove simply because I’m white is galling.

“My mom would adjust. She isn’t narrow-minded, just . . .” Grip trails off, his long lashes dropping over clouded eyes. “You have to cut them both some slack. You can’t imagine the things we experienced living where we grew up. I was lucky going to the School of the Arts. That was my exit. It could easily have been Jade. She just didn’t apply. She’s a better writer than I am.”

“I doubt that,” I mumble.

His gaze latches onto my face, narrowed and searching. “Why, ’cause she’s hood? I’m hood, Bris.”

“Maybe you are, but you never called me a bitch.”

“At least not to your face.” He doesn’t even crack a smile.

Our eyes catch and hold. At the corners, my lips fight a smile. He stops holding his back around the same time I give in. Our laughter clears the air.

“And I didn’t doubt Jade was better than you because she’s hood or stupid.” Eyes down, I circle the lip of the wine glass with one finger. “I doubt it because I’ve never met a better writer than you.”

I inwardly slap myself. Why the ever-living hell do I keep saying things like this? As soon as things lighten, I say something stupid to let him know just how much he means to me. Must be the weed.

“You wanna know the real reason Jade didn’t like you?”

Grip leans into me, pushing back my hair and rolling his still-icy beer bottle over my neck. I swallow, but don’t dare look at him, hoping he’ll drop it, but he doesn’t.

“When you grow up on the streets, you don’t just develop a sixth sense.” He captures a lock of my hair and tests it between his fingers. “You have six, seven, eight, nine of ’em, because those instincts could be the difference between death or life. My mom and Jade have so many senses they almost know what you’re thinking before you think it. And even though I’ve never told her, Jade only had to be in the room with us for a hot minute to know I want you.”

I clench my eyes closed and pull in a stuttering breath, trapping my bottom lip between my teeth.

“Don’t do this, Grip.”

“Jade’s right,” he continues as if I hadn’t spoken, hadn’t asked him to stop. “My mom would flip if I brought a white girl home. If I brought you home. She knows I don’t consider color when I date, but she’d love to see me with a woman who looks like her. You know better than most that we don’t get to choose our family, but we still gotta love them.”

I don’t respond to that. He knows how contentious things have been between my brother and my parents. Beyond the headlines everyone else has seen, he knows how hard I’ve worked to reconcile them. I moved to LA to help Rhyson with his career, yes, but also to bridge the countrywide chasm between the two factions of my family.

“Like you, I’d do anything for my family.” He comes in an inch closer, caressing under my chin and tilting it up with his index finger. “But if you’d ever give me a shot, I wouldn’t give a fuck what anyone thought. I’d take you home to my mama.”

I’m a little too high and a lot too horny for this conversation, for the stone-hard thigh pressing against me, for the heat coming off his body and smothering my resistance. I try to sit up, hoping it will clear my head so I can make my escape, but his hand presses gently into my chest, just above the swell