Slow Burn(16)

    I sank back down on my couch. “Maybe my life has gotten a little out of control.”

    Griffin came into the living room. He sat down on the couch next to me, but he didn’t look at me. Instead he rested his head in his hands. “I felt like killing myself before.”

    “Yeah?”

    He leaned back. “I’m glad I didn’t. I’m not saying my life is peaches and cream now, but it’s better than it was.”

    I looked into his gray eyes. He was such an enigma. He was so together most of the time. Then he’d pop out with stuff about his tattoo or tell me something that made him seem vulnerable. But almost as soon as he’d opened up, he’d close back up again, pulling back into himself. Why was he hiding from me? What didn’t he want me to see?

    I hugged my knees to my chest. “So, say I try cooperating with you. What are we talking about here? I mean, what do I have to do? Stop going to bars? Let you come everywhere with me?”

    “That’d be a good start.”

    I took a deep breath. “Okay. I can handle that.”

    “That’s not all, though.”

    “I know,” I said. “I have to stop doing coke.”

    He nodded. “You do.”

    “But it’s like addictive, and I don’t know if I can just stop.”

    “I’ll help you,” he said. “It’s not like heroin, you know. You’re not going to go through physical withdrawal or something.”

    “That’s true.” If I thought about it, I routinely went for days, even weeks, without doing blow. Sometimes I just couldn’t score it. I could probably lay off. It would be good for me. It mostly made me want to do it more anyway. I sometimes wasn’t sure if I liked coke, or if the effect of cocaine was simply to make me feel as if I wanted more. I thought that if I wanted it more, I must like it. But maybe it was only the drug screwing with my head. “Okay. Well, I’ll stop. No more coke. No more bars. No more running away from you.”

    “Good,” he said.

    I smiled at him.

    The corner of his mouth tugged up. I guess that was his version of a smile. “Sun’s coming up. Time for bed.”





Chapter Three

    Griffin sat up groggily on the couch. “It smells like bacon.” I could swear there was a note of suspicion in his voice.

    “That’s because I’m cooking bacon,” I sang from the kitchen. I was making what I liked to call Big Breakfast. I didn’t bother cooking breakfast most of the time. I skipped it. I wasn’t generally hungry when I first woke up, and I wasn’t a big fan of most breakfast foods. Too sweet. But every now and again, I liked to make breakfast. Big Breakfast meant bacon, scrambled eggs, and hash browns with jalapenos, onions, and tomatoes. The whole thing was a bit of an undertaking.

    I’d barely gotten started. I’d hoped to be further into the ordeal before Griffin woke up, but he seemed to be a light sleeper. I guessed, overall, that was a good thing.

    “You cook?” He looked skeptical.

    “I cook,” I said. “I cook very well, as a matter of fact.”

    “Sure,” he said. He ducked into the bathroom.

    “What’s that supposed to mean?” I yelled after him.

    He emerged a minute later. “Nothing. Just that I’ve been here for two weeks, and I’ve never seen you cook.”

    “Well, I don’t cook every meal or anything,” I said. “It’s work, and I’m very busy with my classes.”

    He laughed.

    “I am!” I glared at him. “Haven’t you seen me studying a lot this week?” It had been a week since he’d rescued me from Rusty at Clint’s house. I’d been a very good, very boring little girl for days now.

    He shrugged. “You’ve been reading a lot.”

    “That’s my class work.”

    “Okay, okay,” he said. He peered over my shoulder at the stove, where the bacon was sizzling away. “I guess it smells okay.”

    I shoved him. “Step back, all right? I am going to deliver the best Big Breakfast you have ever eaten. You are going to be kissing my toes after you taste this.”