Just as Aria is about to turn and leave, the door clicks open to reveal a tired Griffin, crutches inserted below his arms.
“Hey!” Aria is bright, the happiness at seeing him a natural response despite his situation.
“Hey.” Griffin’s face sags, not a hint of a smile.
“I’m sorry, is now a bad time? I texted. And called.” Aria laughs at herself playfully. “I was worried and wanted to see if I could help in any way.”
Griffin casts his eyes downward, and the difference in him since Aria saw him last is striking. The man before her is drawn and serious and completely foreign from the man who bemoaned his inability to take home one of the bunnies at the pet adoption event.
“Sure, come on in, but fair warning that I’m not the best company right now.”
“Of course,” Aria says quietly.
Griffin bites on his lip for a beat before turning and leading the way. He wrestles with the crutches, navigating the turns of his condo like he’s still finding his footing with them.
“You take a seat, and I’ll help. What do you need? I can cook, clean, or run errands, but I can’t promise the cooking will be particularly tasty.” Aria tries on a cheery tone.
Griffin stops at the kitchen, and he slowly lowers himself onto a barstool at the peninsula. He lets out a sigh. “You’re all good. The team has already lined up people to help me with all of that stuff.”
Aria’s hands drop at her sides, and a flash of helplessness catches inside her. “Well, you have to let me help somehow.” She wanders over to the open living area that’s connected and passes through it to the floor-to-ceiling windows. “Wow. You weren’t kidding about the view.”
When Aria turns around, Griffin is gazing at the windows, dazed and nodding. “Did you get a concussion from the hit?”
“No, but it sure feels like my brain is misfiring.” He glancesat his knee, wrapped in bandages. “It’s like it’s too much to process right now.”
Aria walks back over to him, and she grabs one of his hands and holds it with both of hers. “I’m here for you, Griff. I’m so sorry this happened to you. It’s okay to feel mixed up, and I know you’ll work through this. I know you have a comeback in you.”
Aria does her best with the pep talk, hoping she hit the right notes. She smiles at Griffin as she releases his hand and gently rubs his shoulder.
He looks up and pulls a belabored smile. “Thanks. We’ll have to see about the ‘comeback.’ It was a pretty bad hit.”
“Yeah?” Aria pulls her brows together in concern.
Griffin waves her off. “I’d rather not rehash it again. I’ve already talked to the coaches and my agent and the athletic trainers and the doctor, and one more round might just take it out of me.”
“Say no more.” Aria dashes around the peninsula into the kitchen, locates the pantry, and pulls out the specialty popcorn she sent over. “We have snacks; all we need is a movie.”
Griffin smiles the smallest of smiles—the first real one of the day—when Aria prods him to get up. “You’re making me move?” he pretends to complain.
“Well, you can’t quite sit for a whole movie on that hard stool. I’m here to stay awhile.”
During the movie Aria sneaks glances over at Griffin every few minutes—as much as she reasonably can without being noticed. Though their friendship is still new, she’s never seen him like this before. Frankly, she never could have imagined him so shaken and down. An impulse to take care of himthrums inside her, and it’s why when he eventually dozes off, she looks over more often.
If only she had a magic wand, Aria would wave it over his knee, then double tap it on his heart to revive the real him. Maybe Griffin won’t need her for household tasks—and perhaps that’s for the best in some categories, considering her skill set—but Aria has decided: She will be at Griffin’s side through this thing.
He may be hurting, but she’ll make sure he won’t be alone.
Chapter 35
Griffin
Before Aria stopped by his condo unannounced, Griffin was already having one of the worst days of his life. To some, it might sound overly dramatic, but earlier that morning, the doctor confirmed that Griffin’s knee would require surgery. Despite having the same suspicions himself, it was still a blow to hear the confirmation come from the professional’s lips.
“We’ll have to see how much we can do when we go in. There’s already scar tissue from last time,”the doctor told him.
Griffin picked at the edge of the exam bench, knowing that this meant his worst fears were in the cards.
“There’s a chance I never play again,”Griffin said.
