“Fat chance. I can’t wait until we leave for college and I get away from him. I hate working at the dealership. Gas fumes and picky customers. He can dream all he wants. I’m never taking the place over.”
A common complaint, and Rae kicked off her shoes. Her eyes were still burning. “Well, I’m glad I get along with both of your parents.” Blinking away the dampness, she reached for humor. “If they’ll let me move in, I’ll clean Everett’s rifles to earn my keep.”
The humor failed, and Griffin noticed her lower lip wobbling. “You’re not thinking about it, are you?”
A dumb question, as usual. “I can’t stop that day from popping into my head. It just does.” Vivid, jarring, like a film replaying nonstop. A crushing remembrance of the worst moments of her life.
“Everything’s okay,” he whispered, moving closer. Providing solace wasn’t a skill set normally honed by a teenage boy, but he made the attempt. “The White Hurricane’s over. The way Hester died . . . no one should go like that. It makes me sick too, thinking about your mom caught outside in the blizzard. I know you’re hurting a lot more than I am. It will get easier. Not today or tomorrow, but someday.”
“I can’t stop seeing it in my head. Spotting my mother under the tree, believing she was okay and then—”
“Rae, don’t do this to yourself. We’ve covered this ground a million times. Think about the future, not the past. Our future.”
Breaking off, Griffin searched her gaze for confirmation she wouldn’t give up. That she believed their future together would heal the grief she was only beginning to feel, the bottomless heartache of losing the mother she’d adored.
He rested his fingers on her chin. His pupils dilated, like windows opening to his soul.
Lately, his touch made Rae breathless. Even when her heart was crumbling.
Their gazes tangled. Searching, probing, as Griffin’s fingers trailed fire around her mouth.
This new, intensely physical aspect of their relationship perplexed them both. As kids, they’d tussled in the grass. Played sports together in the summer heat. During a disgusting phase in ninth grade, they’d lobbed spitballs at each other whenever they met in the school cafeteria. Their chosen form of greeting, and Rae had prided herself on grossing out the other girls.
Everyone at the high school assumed they’d been dating since freshman year. But it wasn’t until the end of their junior year that they’d traded a few lip-smacks. Out of curiosity. The experiment left them both feeling silly. After a decade of friendship, they seemed incapable of viewing each other in a sexual way. Which suited them fine. They were content being two unremarkable teenagers who’d skirted the self-confidence killers of dating, or vying to fit into the popular crowd, because they had each other.
The White Hurricane changed everything.
As Rae mourned and her father slipped further away, she often found herself nuzzling in Griffin’s arms. She’d never been prone to tears—Rae gravitated toward physical activity or wisecracks if she felt low—but the changes overtaking her life were frightening. Hester, buried. Connor, drifting away. At times, before Rae became aware of the sorrow bubbling up, Griffin would draw her into his arms. He’d rock her slowly, until her emotions settled.
It was here, in the privacy of his crash pad, that the hugging had led to kissing.
Griffin kissed her now, his lips moving slowly over hers. For a boy with no dating experience, he’d become an expert.
Pausing, he cradled her face. “Don’t be sad—everything will get better. We don’t have to wait until August to move down to Athens. We can get summer jobs near the campus. We’ll find somewhere to stay until we move into our dorms. When we come home for winter break, your dad will be better. He’ll pull himself together.”
“What if he doesn’t?”
“Then move in here. My parents won’t mind.”
“Don’t tease.”
“I’m serious. Rae, I don’t want you living anywhere you’re not comfortable.” The embers in his gaze leaped higher. “I’ll always protect you. You know that, right?”
Words escaped her. She was acutely focused on Griffin’s hands, lowering now, toying with the hem of her shirt. Testing the limits of his self-control—and hers. When his palms slid underneath, they both gasped. It was a revelation, how easily they were able to pleasure each other.
Throwing off her own reservations, Rae dipped her hands beneath his T-shirt. Griffin’s breath hitched. The reaction was more thrilling than the downward plunge on a roller coaster. Boldly now, she ranged over the hard muscle girding his waist with curiosity and the sudden, dizzying awareness that she could give pleasure as well as receive.