Jenny was worried this conversation was spiraling in that direction, so she stuck her nose inside the book he gave her.
A few pages in and Grant’s voice became a low, gravelly hum in the background, barely noticeable. Most of what he said had been heard time and time again. All of them felt sad, sometimes guilty because of Xavier’s death, but it simply wasn’t something that needed to be revisited in Grant’s gloomy recollection. Her memories were all she had of Xavier. She didn’t need them sullied by his constant guilt. It was too much, his constant attempts to make up for any shortcomings or slights from the past. To sprint down a path of what-ifs, only to end up with the same conclusion. Xavier. Was. Gone.
He cleared his throat and stood, wiping his eye. “Want me to leave it out for your next visitor?” Grant gestured toward the folding chair.
Jenny let the book fall to her chest. “No, I think I want to be alone for awhile.”
“Gotcha. No problem, girlie.” Grant folded the chair and slid it underneath the lounger. “I know how you ladies are with your alone time.” He gave a halfhearted chuckle, letting it trail off before he started again, “Thanks for listenin’ to this old man ramble on.”
“Anytime. You know that.”
He stepped into the adjoining room of her tent.
“Grant,” she called. The swishing of his feet over the nylon floor stopped. “I owe you.” His head poked back into the rear portion of the tent. From Jenny’s angle, the lantern’s glow cast deep shadows beneath his eyes, a yellow tinge to his skin. He appeared sickly hunched over in the tent—his hands still quivering as it held back the door. “Me and Matt owe you our lives. You know that, right?”
“You two don’t owe me nothin’. I owe you.” He lowered his voice. “No tellin’ what the S.A. would’ve done with me. I knew too much. They might’ve just been toyin’ around with me before they’d finally taken me out. Honestly, if it weren’t for you two talkin’ me into leavin’, I’d prolly be the next one out on the scaffolding. Just… just swingin’ there.” His voice broke a little, and he scratched along the bridge of his nose. “Don’t ever think it no other way. I owe the both of you.”
“We’ll call it even, then.” Jenny knew he meant it. His acts of kindness. His checking up on her. Grant’s concern never crossed the line of overbearing, never gave the impression he helped because he felt she couldn’t provide for herself. Never because she was just a girl. He was there because he cared, genuinely cared.
“Get some rest.”
After Grant left, she continued to read for another hour or two, anxiously biding her time before her inevitable conversation with Danny. He’s going to sit me out. I just know it. Numerous times she had to go back and read entire pages. Too worried. Too distracted. Occasionally, the stamping of boots outside her tent gave her hope, then nothing—no Danny.
In between her thoughts and any passing commotion, the silence was driving her mad. All that anticipation. Not to mention the worry of her pregnancy and how she’d manage that. Plus, how Danny would manage her in that condition once he knew. How much longer could she hide it? She palmed her belly with both hands. Still flat. Once this gets out, I’m done… And I thought Matt and Danny were overprotective before. She set the book next to the lantern. There had been enough relaxing. I’m gonna go find him.
She slid her legs from the lounger and nearly knocked a canteen over that Grant had forgotten. May as well… A quick swig, refreshing. Thirst always seemed to sneak up on her, especially in the winter—the lack of heat and sweat gave her a false sense of being hydrated. It wasn’t until she saw the canteen that her mouth felt dry and wanting for what was inside. She drew a few more gulps then put it on her side table. Much better.
Secretively, she squeezed her head from the tent, peeking in both directions before sealing it back up. Still no Danny… What’s taking him so long? Jenny snatched her pants from atop a small trunk at the foot of her lounger. They were still cold from earlier, moist in some spots. She sighed, and with no other choice, began to jerk them on. But before she managed to get her second leg through, the tent’s zipper shook, startling her. “I’m changing. Give me a sec,” she forced a loud whisper.
The rustling didn’t let up.
“Hey!” No longer a whisper. “I’m changing. Give it up.” She hobbled toward the door, one leg still working to get inside a pant leg. “Stop, damn it!” Gripping the zipper, she managed to tear it away from the trespasser and seal it again. It seemed to be enough to deliver the message. “I’ll only be another second.”
“Jenny…”
Who the hell is that? “Matt?”
Nothing.
No, Matt knows not to just barge in here. Annoyed, she called out again, “Who is it?”
“Let me in. Or I’ll huff and I’ll puff…”
Her heart sank. Griffin. Damn it. Why…? I thought he was supposed to be gone. “Almost finished.” Although she wanted to scream, tell him off, she couldn’t, not with him. No one dared stand up to him. I’ve got to get out of here. “I’m heading out. We can talk outside.”
“That’s no good.”
Now, only a foot from the door, Jenny stood frozen in place, unable to move as the small zipper swung around its track. Her breathing accelerated. The tent seemed to be collapsing on her. She retreated, but with nowhere to go, her feet moved back toward the front. When he opens it up, I’m going to squeeze right by him. Waiting. Breathing. Then, the zipper stopped short, and Griffin pushed his way through, sealing the tent behind him, leaving nothing to chance. “Anyone else in here?” His eyes were serious, brown and deep.
Jenny lifted the partition to the back of her tent. “No one. Go ahead. Take a look.” She held her breath, waiting for his feet to move, so she could escape. Or at least try.
“I trust you. No need for that.” He stepped toward her, shoulders stiff and broad—tribal tattoos ran the length of his exposed arms. “What took you so long?” he asked, eyes locked, his path aimed squarely at her. She had no choice, but to bury herself further into the tent. “You know I don’t like secrets.”
“I said I was changing.”
“That should’ve been reason enough to let me in sooner,” he said, towering over her, barely a foot away.
She trembled down onto her lounger, her body folding inward, anything to keep him from touching her. It didn’t work. He set his hand on her shoulder. Her gut twitched. “You—you shouldn’t be in here,” she stumbled, managing something close to a whisper.
If Griffin had heard her, he didn’t lead on as such, his thumb began along her collar bone, longingly. Slight pressure. Lust-filled. “Something very special about you, you know?”
“Please…” She turned her head from him. His words, his touch made her skin crawl.
“Heard you were hurt, so I came to check on you.” Griffin lifted her chin, trying to force her eyes to meet with his, but she kept them away. “Gotta check on my folks, right? Can’t have people thinking that I don’t care. Isn’t that thoughtful of me?”
“Yes,”—she wriggled her face from his hand and tucked it into her shoulder—“very thoughtful.” She forced a hurt smile. “We all appreciate what you give us here.”
“I would hope so. Taking you three in out of the goodness of my heart. Who else would’ve done that?”
Jenny said nothing.
“Huh?” He grabbed her face, contorting it in his hand, leaning in toward her. “Who else would have been genius enough to see this place for what it is?” Spittle landed with his anger. “No one else had the resources to put this together. All this shit is mine.”