Lost, Found, and Forever

by Victoria Schade

  Griffin picked up the key. “Lucky number fourteen. Ready?” He held the door for her, and Spencer trotted behind Griffin even though it was Justine who had the leash.

  “Ready.”

  At that point, lying was the only option.

  chapter thirty-two

  No tank,” Justine muttered as she followed Griffin and Spencer up the stairs to the room.

  He looked back over his shoulder. “What?”

  “Oh, sorry, nothing.”

  Wearing nine hundred layers for the long day outside was a fine idea, but forgetting to wear a tank or camisole under it all meant that she had nothing to double as a pajama top. Starting from the top, she’d worn her trusty down coat, a cream wool duster, a black-and-gray-camo zip-front hoodie, a thin gray crewneck sweater, and a slim-fit thermal black turtleneck underneath it all. The turtleneck made the most sense to wear to bed, but after dealing with it for fourteen hours she felt like it was strangling her. Her options below the waist were even worse. Jeans, of course, and thin white silk-blend thermal leggings that were essentially see-through and made her underwear look like a piece of wrinkled-up black paper.

  Griffin put his key in the knob on the red door and peeked in. “Okay.” He held back a smile. “This is our current situation.” He stepped back so she could walk in first. “Welcome home.”

  Justine dropped the leash to let Spencer check it out, and the moment she followed him in she was assaulted by hideousness. The walls were bisected, with wood-paneled wainscoting along the bottom and washed-out burgundy pinstripe wallpaper up to the ceiling. A depressing painting of a barn hung off center on the wall across from the door. Spencer nosed his way on the inexplicable tile walkway that led into the bathroom, which Justine could see had a vanity and sink outside and a powder blue toilet inside.

  Then there was the bed. Covered in the most depressing dirt-brown faux patchwork quilt with two speed humps she assumed were pillows, it was a size that hovered somewhere between “college futon” and “department store linen display bed.”

  “What is that? A twin-plus?” Justine asked as she put her purse down on the dresser. “I’ve never seen a bed that size before.”

  “I’d call it a three-quarters of a full. Looks like you’re going to have sweet dreams tonight.”

  “Is this the only light?” She flicked a fluorescent wall light off and on.

  “Guess so. The Ritz it ain’t.”

  Being inside the room together made it real. She was spending the night with Griffin again, although this time there was no metal staircase separating them. He’d be sleeping just a few feet away, and they’d both be able to hear every move. Hell, every breath.

  Keeping busy was the best strategy to avoid stressing about what was about to happen. “I have zero battery left.” She fished through her purse. “Dammit, I left my charger in your car. Can I steal your keys and run down?”

  Griffin was sitting on the edge of the bed looking at his phone. “I’m pretty low too. I’ll go; you stay here. And while I’m at it I’ll take Spence for a quick walk.”

  “No, I can do that, you don’t have to—”

  He put his hand up. “Stop. It’s no problem, I’ve got it.” Griffin slapped his leg. “C’mon, bud, let’s go out.”

  Spencer dashed to him still dragging his leash and Griffin picked it up and walked out.

  The second the door snapped shut Justine fell backward onto the bed. Her exhaustion was tinged with a buzzy feeling that probably was just punch-drunkenness. With Griffin out of the room it was the perfect time to get ready for bed, so she stripped out of her clothes and left them in a pile on the desk, grabbed the toothbrush and one of the thin towels hanging by the vanity, and headed for the shower.

  The shower pressure was shockingly good even though the tub itself was closet-sized, so she took her time lathering up with the wafer-thin bar of wrapped soap she’d found on the ledge. She used it from her hair to her toes, and by the time she’d finished she felt so dried out and stripped clean that she swore the soap had sloughed off a layer of skin.

  The door to the motel room clicked open and she heard Spencer padding around right as she realized that the towel she was using to dry off was more of a washcloth, and she’d left her clothing outside the bathroom on the desk.

  “Hey, Griffin?” She cracked the door open and peeked out, keeping her mostly naked body hidden.

  “Yeah?”

  “Can you hand me that pile of clothes over there?”

  There was a pause. “All of it? You’re wearing all of that to bed?”

  Was that disappointment in his voice?

  “No, not all of it. I’ll figure it out.”

  The stack appeared in front of the door, held aloft by a disembodied hand. Spencer stuck his face in the crack of the door and tried to wedge it open with his nose.

  “Just a sec, Spence,” Justine said as she tried to keep the dog out while grabbing the clothing. She quickly decided the best combination was the thin sweater, see-through leggings with underwear, and the cream duster to cover the whole mess up until she got into bed. The mirror was still fogged up, so she used her elbow to wipe it away and raked her fingernails through her wet hair. A quick tooth brushing with the vintage toothbrush later and she was ready to face Griffin. She took a steadying breath and opened the door.

  “Well, hey there, Mrs. Clean.”

  Griffin was perched on the very edge of the bed like he knew he was trespassing on her property, with Spencer spread out beside him, taking up more than half the space.

  “Hey.”

  They stared at each other until the silence started to mean something.

  “I’m going to, uh.” Griffin’s eyes traveled down Justine’s body. “I’m going to hop in the shower really quick. The TV doesn’t work, so I guess it’s lights-out and phones. Did you bring earbuds?”

  She shook her head.

  “Me either.” He hopped off the bed and brushed past her to get to the bathroom. “Be out in a few minutes.”

  The click of the bathroom door locking was enough to remind Justine that they needed to maintain their boundaries, so she walked to the bed and pulled at the bedspread, rolling Spencer from one side to the other to get it off the bed without moving him. The room didn’t offer many possibilities to set up a makeshift bed; her options were either sleep on the tile floor beyond the bed or claim the carpeted area right next to it.

  Spencer watched as she folded the comforter into thirds and placed it on the floor next to the bed, then threw one of the anemic pillows on top. The minute she settled onto the floor bed, Spencer jumped down off the real one and pawed at her legs.

  “It’s a tight squeeze, but we’ll make it work.” She moved closer to the bed and Spencer turned in a circle, then flopped down with his head resting on her hip.

  The water turned off in the bathroom and a few minutes later the door opened.

  “Justine?” Griffin whispered. “Spence?”

  “We’re here,” she said, rising halfway from the floor on the far side of the bed.

  His half-naked body was backlit by the bathroom light as he jumped in shock. “You scared me! I thought you were outside with him. What are you doing on the floor?”

  “Trying to sleep?”

  Also trying not to stare at the squeaky-clean half-dressed man she was about to spend the night with.

  Griffin took a few steps closer and crossed his arms, making his biceps bulge. His jeans hung low on his hips so that the V-shaped cuts peeked out. “Not happening. No way I’m letting you sleep on the floor.” He thumbed toward the bed. “Get in bed.”

  He’d finally said the b-e-d word. Ordered her into it, and for the first time she wasn’t just imagining it. Coupled with his nonnegotiable tone, the word sent a predictable tingle down her spine.

  “I’m fine, honestly. This is ve
ry comfy.” She patted the comforter, and the floor beneath it made an audible thud. “You paid for the room, I sleep on the floor. It’s only fair.”

  “Okay, if you’re not going to sleep on the bed, I won’t either.” He started ripping the sheets off the bed.

  “Stop, stop, stop,” Justine said, sitting all the way up and rousing Spencer. “You’re being stupid. I’ll sleep on the bed.”

  Griffin smiled triumphantly as he tucked the sheets back in and they scooted around each other, taking care not to touch as they traded places. Spencer watched them both settle into their respective beds and seemed to weigh his options. He decided that on the bed with Justine but with his head hanging off the bed on Griffin’s side was the best way to split his affections.

  “Ooh, you warmed it up for me,” he said as he flicked the comforter over his body and snuggled in. “So comfy.”

  “Liar.” Justine pulled the world’s scratchiest sheet up to her chin. “If it makes you feel any better, this mattress is made of plywood.”

  “Then I guess we’re even.”

  The glow of their phones lit the room as they tried to ignore each other, until Griffin made a frustrated noise.

  Justine leaned over the edge of the bed. “What?”

  “Work. Schedule changes.” He looked at his phone and groaned again.

  “Tell me.”

  He sat up and leaned against the nightstand, which made the blanket fall off and reveal his chest. Justine had to look away because all she could think about was the way it had felt pressed against hers.

  “I’m applying for a new job at Vendere.”

  “Is it part of the trajectory?” She tried to keep the teasing out of her voice. “And what position is it?”

  “It’s the longest long shot ever. It’s like two jumps ahead.” He shifted as if trying to find a more comfortable patch of floor. “If I get it I’ll be managing all of the people like me on the East Coast.”

  “Good for you. Way to manifest your future.” It was something Sienna always said and it seemed appropriate in the moment.

  “Thanks. It’s a lot. If I get it everything changes.”

  “Cha-ching.”

  Griffin laughed. “Well, yeah, that. But it would also mean my whole travel schedule will shift, and then there’s the ramp-up period at HQ . . .”

  Justine propped her head on her hand. “Can I ask you a question? I’ve been meaning to ask you this since the first time we met.”

  “Sure.”

  “You work a lot, so why did you get a dog if you’re never home?” She glanced at Spencer sleeping next to her.

  “I’ve been waiting for you to ask that.” He flopped down against the tiny pillow. “My job wasn’t always like this. When I started off I was doing the regular nine-to-five thing, but then I got fast-tracked.” He shrugged. “I did the best I could with him. He had a few great dog sitters and we made it work.”

  “Makes sense.” Justine fell back against the bed.

  “I’m glad I had some extra time with Spencer today before work gets crazy.” Griffin paused. “And you.”

  The two words filled the room with expectation.

  “Thank you.” It was the only thing she could come up with. “Same.”

  The silence was broken when the old-timey heater wheezed into action, clicking and hissing like it was about to explode.

  Justine leaned over the edge of the bed again, not realizing that Griffin was propped up on his arm, and she wound up almost nose to nose with him. They bounced away from each other, startled by their sudden proximity.

  She laughed and played it off. “You’re going to get an interview and they’re going to fall in love with you and you’re going to get the job and then you can check off another career milestone.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence, but it really is a major long shot. Now if I could only get my résumé to upload. They said they didn’t receive it.” He frowned at his phone.

  Justine draped herself on the edge of the bed with her head resting on top of her hands, her still-damp hair falling over her eyes. She watched Griffin tapping on his phone but stopped before he felt her eyes, flopping back onto the bed with a sigh.

  The heater let out a death rattle and shut off.

  “Hey, Justine?”

  She didn’t bother sitting up. “Yeah?”

  The pause stretched on and she started to worry about what Griffin was going to reveal.

  “It really smells like dog piss down here on the floor.”

  The laugh burst out of her, waking Spencer. He sat up looking confused.

  “I think I’m going to go sleep in the tub,” he said, standing up and gathering the pillow and comforter.

  “No. Stop.”

  Her voice was so commanding that he obeyed, glued in place next to the bed with the bedding wrapped in his arms.

  “You will not sleep in the tub.” She gathered her courage and forced the words out. “Just get in the bed, it’s big enough for the two of us.”

  He huffed a laugh. “It’s barely big enough for Spencer. You’re insane.”

  She made a show of moving as far as she could to the edge of it, accidentally kicking Spencer. He gave her a disappointed look, then hopped off and into the armchair near the door. “See, even Spencer wants to make room for you.”

  Her heart thudded as Griffin stood at the end of the bed blinking at her. It felt like it would be an easy decision to make: semi-comfort or cold porcelain. The longer he waited the stupider she felt for offering it.

  “You sure you don’t mind?”

  She sighed and threw back the crinkly sheet next to her. “I don’t bite.”

  “But you do snore.” He finally cracked a smile. “I appreciate it, thank you. I’m so tired I’ll be asleep in a minute. You won’t even know I’m here.”

  Not true.

  He climbed into the opposite side of the tiny bed slowly, like he was getting into an unsteady boat, then turned onto his side facing away from her and pulled the sheet up to his shoulder.

  Exhausted or not, there was no way Justine was sleeping. She was on her side with her hands tucked beneath her cheek and Griffin was just a few inches away, facing the opposite direction. She could feel warmth radiating from him. The smell of hotel soap on his skin wafted over every time he moved an inch. Thanks to the turn-of-the-century HVAC unit she was freezing, but Griffin was kicking off thermal energy like an oven. She longed to move a centimeter closer, to steal some of his heat.

  He shifted and his foot grazed hers. Justine wasn’t sure if the sparks she felt were due to static on the sheets or the fact that Griffin was actually touching her. In bed. She held her breath, waiting to see who would jerk away first, but they both literally held their ground. After all, it was just a foot. They were essentially shaking hands, but with their feet, his warm heel against her frozen arch.

  In bed.

  When her left arm started to fall asleep, she moved to turn over as slowly as a stalking cat. She adjusted each part of her body individually, starting at her knees, then her hips, and finally her shoulders, until her head was on the pillow.

  And looking directly into Griffin’s eyes.

  She wasn’t sure when he’d turned over, but there he was, his adorably crooked nose just a few inches away from hers again, but this time neither one of them moved. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears.

  “I can’t sleep,” he whispered. His eyes traveled around her face. “Can you?”

  Justine shook her head slowly. “Not tired in the slightest,” she said in a scratchy whisper.

  He kept examining her, drinking in every part of her face. Admiring her. She loved how it felt to be trapped in his gaze.

  Then, as if a switch flipped, Griffin closed the few inches of space between them and crushed his mouth against hers. There was nothin
g tentative in the kiss, no questioning brush of their lips like the first time. Justine matched his intensity and suddenly their mouths and hands were frantic on each other’s bodies, desperate to explore what they’d only imagined a few weeks before in the darkness.

  Griffin hungrily kissed anything he could reach, claiming her mouth and letting his tongue flick along her lips, then breaking away to trace kisses down her neck, then back up to nibble on her earlobes. His urgency made it impossible for Justine to catch her breath, and she struggled to process everything he was making her feel with everything she wanted to do to him. They were perfectly paced with each other, kiss for kiss, touch for touch. Griffin’s hands raced over her body, leaving tracks of heat everywhere he touched. He finally flipped on top of her and pulled at the hem of her sweater.

  “What are you wearing anyway?” he asked with a frustrated growl. “A chastity sweater?”

  Justine laughed and shrugged out of the cardigan, then pulled the sweater over her head with a dramatic sweep.

  His eyes went wide at her naked breasts.

  “You are perfect.” He sighed. His urgency seemed to ebb at the sight of her topless on her back beneath him and he let his gaze wander along her body, almost as if he needed a moment to admire her. Griffin trailed his fingertips lightly along her skin, starting at the base of her neck, then slowly tracing a wide circle around her left breast, then her right, sometimes with his fingertips but occasionally taking the weight of her breast in his palm. His touch was agonizingly slow and gentle, and when he raised his fingers away from her with a naughty grin, she arched her back to reconnect with his hand. He teased her with smaller and smaller lazy circles on her skin, sending sparks along her spine, until he was caressing her left nipple with his fingertips, then her right.

  Then he lowered his mouth to her nipple and swept his tongue across it as she bit her lip to keep from crying out.

  When Griffin was finally able to back away from lavishing attention on her breasts and she came out of the trance he’d put her in, Justine reached down to pop the button on his jeans. He bucked them off as quickly as possible.