All He Really Needs(57)

He hadn’t really thought about it when he’d had her spread out over the hood of her car. If he had, he probably would have assumed that she was fine with it. After all, she’d been the one to point out how close they were to the hotel.

While she changed, he occupied himself by looking around the tiny house. It was a bungalow probably dating back to the 1930s or so, but it had obviously been updated. The kitchen was open and modern, with a large granite-topped island floating between the living room and the kitchen. The office probably could have been used as a bedroom, but she had lined the wall with bookshelves and placed an Eames lounge chair in the center of the room. A large brown tabby cat sat curled up in the chair. When he reached out to touch it, the cat opened one eye and growled ominously.

He’d only been inside her house a handful of times, but he knew where it was because he’d picked her up there. It was decorated in mid-century modern antiques, with lots of pale wood and sleek lines. The furniture had all been lovingly cared for and looked like it might have been inherited from grandparents, though Griffin now knew it had not been.

He crossed back to her bedroom, leaning against the frame of the closed door. “I didn’t know you had a cat,” he called.

“Um…yeah,” she called from the other side of the door. “That’s Grommet.”

“Like the animated dog?”

“Yeah.” She opened the door. Now she was dressed in slim blue jeans and a moss-green knit sweater. “Just like that. He likes cheese.”

Sydney tugged at the hem of her sweater and didn’t quite meet his gaze. She looked beautiful, as she always did, but this outfit was more casual than her normal, middle-of-the-work-day professionalism.

“You ready?” he asked.

She knotted her fingers together, her expression twisting in indecision. “Here’s the thing. I don’t think I should go.”

“What? You can’t let them intimidate you like—”

“No!” she hastened to reassure him. “It’s not that. I just…” She blew out a breath and seemed to be searching for words.

Sydney, who was never at a loss for words, suddenly was. Moreover, she seemed a little lost in general.

He crossed over to her, cupping her cheek in his palm and tipping her face up to his. “Hey, what’s up?”

“I just think that maybe you need to do this alone.”

He frowned. She still wasn’t quite meeting his gaze and if she bit down any harder on her lip, she was going to start bleeding. He traced his thumb across her lower lip, gently freeing it from her teeth. “No. I need you there with me. I need a voice of reason. I need someone who’s not emotionally involved. That’s what you said, remember?”

“I know that’s what I said, but I’m not…” Finally, she forced her gaze to his. “I don’t think I can be your voice of reason anymore.”

He thought of how crazy and messed up his family was. He thought of everything his father and his mother had put him through in the past few days. Hell, his entire life. And every time he’d fought them on anything, he’d done it alone. He’d never once, in his entire thirty years of life, had anyone been completely in his corner. Until now. Until Sydney.

She was everything to him now. No matter what else happened he was going to make damn sure that he didn’t let her go.

He closed the distance between them and kissed her, molding his mouth to hers. Pouring into that kiss all the things he wouldn’t be able to tell her until all this trouble with this family was resolved.

He lifted his mouth from hers and waited until she opened her eyes before saying, “I still need you there. No matter what.”

*

They found his mother at the house, sitting beside his father’s bed, reading him the business section of the newspaper aloud. The home health care nurse was sitting in the hall, giving them privacy. Thank God for small blessings. Most days, it was damn near impossible to have a private conversation with his parents; Griffin was relieved that today he’d have a shot at it. He went into the room where his father’s hospital bed had been set up. Sydney was beside him as he walked up to the door, and she gave his hand a little tug. With a tilt of her head, she indicated she would wait in the hall, but he didn’t release her hand, instead pulling her in with him. Caro sat in a wingback chair between the bed and the window that overlooked the front lawn. The head of Hollister’s bed had been raised so he, too, was sitting upright.

Griffin wasn’t sure if Sydney had ever even met his father, but if Hollister’s fragile appearance shocked her, she didn’t let on. Having her by his side, Griffin saw his father through new eyes, taking in all the things he hadn’t noticed the past few visits. Hollister’s skin looked pale and paper thin. His eyes were sunken. The myriad tubes and IVs hooked up to him only made him look more frail.