Page 100 of The Curveball
He strides past me and heads for the living room.
“How is . . . how is Griffin?” I ask, embarrassed by the way my voice cracks.
“Want the honest answer?”
“Yes.”
“A mess. He’s worried about you, and Giana isn’t right. It’s all crushing on top of him this morning.”
“What’s wrong with Gi?”
“The pain still. She just went to get her new meds today. Hopefully that’ll help.”
Tears burn my eyes. All morning, I’ve been trying to right my foundation. First, I arranged to pick up therapy again to get help for the fierce trauma response. I don’t want to spiral like that again. I feel clearer, and now I’m screaming at myself for staying away from Griffin. He’s needed me as much as I’ve needed him, and—
“Wren.” Dax’s soft voice interrupts my busy head. “Can I show you this?” He lights up the screen on his cell phone. “We were able to get the footage from the security feed from the banquet.”
I lick my lips, hugging my middle as I study the image. Griffin is clear in the video. He’s standing with Parker two feet away from Clay. I wish I could hear what they’re saying, but it’s not threatening. Griffin points, and I can guess he’s telling Clay to leave.
Then, he and Parker start to back up. They’re leaving. But Clay shouts something at Griffin, and in the next breath, Griffin has him pinned up against the wall.
But . . . that’s all. A few seconds later Griffin backs away again. No fists are thrown. No punches.
In the next moment I come into the frame. My mouth parts. Griffin is facing me, and Clay leans over, clutching his jaw like he’s been punched. I relive the stun, the confusion, on Griffin’s face again as he reaches for me.
As I run from him.
“He didn’t assault him, Wren,” Dax said.
“I already knew it,” I whisper, my heart breaking and elated all at once. “But now my dad is backing Clay. Like I knew he would. I can send these as an attachment, right?”
“It’s toeing a morally gray line here since we aren’t technically supposed to have all these shots, but if they do have formal charges in the works, these might encourage them to rethink it.”
I grin. “What exactly are you saying, Daxton?”
“How about we just don’t tell anyone,” Dax says with more mischief than I expected from the man.
“Deal.”
Feral. Griffin always said I was feral. Today, I feel it deep in my bones. A desire to defend what’s mine, and that man is mine to the end.
“You look a little scary.”
“Good.” I rest a hand on Dax’s shoulder. “Thanks, Dax.”
Dax smiles and steps back. “You’re good for him, Wren. I think he’s good for you too.”
We’re not good for each other. We’re perfect for each other.
When Dax leaves, I send the files. I let them simmer for thirty minutes, then make the call.
Three rings, that’s all the time I have to catch my breath before my dad answers. “I’m not donating, Wren. If that’s what you’re calling about. After last night, I will not—”
“Dad. Stop.” I take a deep breath. “I’m not calling about a donation. I sent you some files. I want you to look at them carefully. I’ll wait.”
“What?”
“In your email. Watch the videos, then we’ll discuss.”