likely to make assumptions I shouldn’t. When I do, you need to promise to call me out on it.”
“Am I living with you?”
“Is that all you got from what I just said?” His face breaks into one of his rare smiles.
It lights up his entire face, softening all the rough edges. I think it’s the most beautiful thing in the world when Griff smiles.
“Fine, I pinky swear to be upfront and honest with you in all things, as long as you do the same. As for living together, it might be a bit soon for that. Let’s enjoy ourselves for now, but eventually, I need to get back to the Facility. I still have work to do.” I have a ton of work to do on myself, like get my GED, maybe apply to a university? At a minimum, I need a real job.
I want to be a normal girl, living a normal life. It’s a dream of mine, maybe too far out of my reach, but I’m hopeful.
“I can accept that. Does that mean you’re going to tell me about Bossman?”
His mention of Bossman makes my blood run cold. I’m one hundred percent certain I’ve told no one that name, and I haven’t said a thing about what happened in that cabin.
“How do you know about Bossman?”
More worrisome, what does he know about what I did to Bossman?
Twenty-One
Moira
“How do you know that name?” I take a step back and press my hand over the sudden queasiness in my belly.
“You were mumbling his name in your sleep. Looked like you were having a nightmare.” The way Griff speaks, it sounds like it’s more than a simple nightmare.
“I don’t remember waking up.”
“I pulled you to me, and you settled down.” Again, he acts like this is normal.
It’s not. What the hell did I say? What does he know? Paranoia is not my thing, but damn if that’s not the first place my mind heads.
I’m surprised I settled down, but then it’s Griff. I’ve never felt more protected than when I’m with him. And despite our tiff in the store, his concern is not overbearing. It’s exceedingly kind.
I’m not used to having someone care about me. In many ways, I don’t know how to handle it. I’ve never depended on another human being in my life. From the age of five, when my dad left, through mom’s addiction and overdose at eleven, I’ve only ever relied on myself. Griff scares me.
“I’m not ready to talk about that.”
“I’ll be right here when you are.”
“Why did you ask?” I cock my head, needing to know what he knows.
“I think you know.”
He stares at me with those violet eyes. Violet eyes which are normally full of violence, but only ever look at me with compassion and love. And in his expression, I read the truth. It’s something I’ve suspected for a while but refused to believe.
He knows I’m a murderer.
“Your team found him, didn’t they?”
“They did.”
“I see.” My entire body trembles and I take a step back. An overwhelming urge to run away overcomes me.
I’m a murderer.
And yet, Griff stands by my side. He knows what I did, and he’s not judging me for it. Yet again, I don’t know how to handle that. I’ve never had someone choose to stand by my side.
Griff walks around and opens my door. “Get in, minx. We’ll talk about it, but only when you’re ready. I promise not to push.”
I climb into his car with my lips drawn into a tight line. He knows. Griff knows I killed a man.
I’m nowhere near ready to revisit those memories, but at least it’s not some dark secret anymore. Griff isn’t treating me differently because I’m a killer. What does that say about him? I know what he does for a living. Griff is a trained killer.
But I’m not.
It shouldn’t matter, but it’s a massive, major, humongous difference.
I need to know more about what it means to be a Guardian, and more specifically, what Griff does. Until I do, I can’t broach this topic with him. I settle in and draw the seatbelt across my shoulder and click it.
The next few days pass in a blur. Griff and I settle in, living together like it’s as natural as breathing. We meld really well together.
We fuck. We sleep. We fuck some more.
He does most of the cooking because I’m hopeless, but I’ve never been taught how to cook. I never had the luxury of a home, a loving mother, or a kitchen