Well. Griffin hated that, the way the man said her name. The way he said he wasconcerned.
“This is a difficult week for her,” Jamie continued. “We all can see that. And I’m worried that she’s not herself, you know? Layla’s not really the type to—”
“I wouldn’t finish that sentence,” Griffin said, through clenched teeth.
Jamie’s eyes widened, but Griff was too busy dealing with his own surprise at the gall of every single thing this guy just said, and what he was obviously getting ready to say before Griff stopped him.
This is a difficult week for her because you all invited her, when anyone with good sense and a brand-new girlfriend wouldn’t have. You allcan see it because you watch her like she’s a glued-together glass, and you’re waiting for her to crack. She only seems not like herself because she’s not doing your weird MacKenzie Paris gauntlet anymore.
Layla’s not the type of anything.
Layla Bailey is herself.
Jamie cleared his throat nervously. The man could still not fully settle his eyes on Griffin’s face, which was probably a good thing, because now, in addition to the scars, there was likely a full-on murderous expression there.
But if Griffin could give this guy anything, it was that he didn’t quit.
At least at this.
“I don’t mean to offend you,” Jamie said, so, naturally, Griffin braced himself to be offended. “But it isn’t as though your behavior over the last couple of days…” He trailed off, shifted on his feet again. “Look. Layla deserves someone good. Someone reliable.”
Unfortunately, Griffin could not call himself offended.
Someone good. Someone reliable.
He was neither of those things.
And he knew that.
He’d known that for years.
But maybe he had forgotten it for a few hours.
At some point, he’d moved his right hand again, a full fist, set upright on the counter. He did not like the way he could feel the flour on his skin now, gritty and dry.
He knew he had gone still—too still, too quiet, half of his brain runningSomeone goodandSomeone reliableon a drumming, crushing, repetitive loop, the other half retreating into a familiar scan of his body. He looked at Jamie MacKenzie’s nice-guy face and felt every fucking step to the Metro, every steep street incline.
He thought,I bet you don’t feel a thing.
Jamie was clearly not the sort of man to be comfortable with silence, because he spoke again, quieter now, and the worst thing about it was the pity Griffin could hear as soon as the man opened his mouth.
“I can see that you’ve had a diffic—”
Griffin could not let him finish that sentence. He couldnot.
“Layla isn’t your concern anymore,” he said, leaving himself out of it.
Now, Jamie went quiet. Stunned and blinking, as though he could not conceive of what Griffin said. When he finally gathered himself, he stood straighter, the first sign that he had some real fight in him.
“She’s family,” he said.
Griffin forgot all aboutSomeone goodandSomeone reliable.He even forgot the pity, the fact that golden boy Jamie MacKenzie was going to say that Griffin had adifficulttime, life, whatever the fuck.
He only remembered Layla on the Paris streets, talking about her life. About her mother gone, her father useless, her half brother distant. He remembered how much the MacKenzies meant to her, how they were the family she’d always wanted, and right now, this fucking guy was nothing to Griffin besides the guy who’d taken it away.
“You’re not her family,” he said.
That shocked look again, more indignant this time. “I am. I was mar—”
