I nodded, swiping away the tears as I squared my shoulders. “Yeah. Let’s go home.”
“Good girl. We’ll take this one step at a time.”
“I’M GOING TO KILL HIM.”
Braden raged as he paced the hallway outside my childhood bedroom. I wanted to punch him – or at least trip him so he careened into the wall – but I could do nothing but watch Dad as he leaned over Griffin’s prone form and talked in low voices with Redmond.
“What happened, Ais?” Cillian rested a soothing hand on my shoulder, his voice calm. “Describe what happened for me.”
That was the last thing I wanted to do, but I knew Cillian was mostly interested in the scientific aspect. “It happened fast, much faster than it did with Carol Davenport.”
“That could be because the second storm was stronger and arrived much quicker,” Cillian noted. “It came out of nowhere and was an instant deluge. Griffin didn’t even have a chance to take cover.”
“He didn’t have a chance,” I agreed, dragging a hand through my bedraggled hair. “He was angry right away. It was as if something came over him. There was a shift in his eyes and … he was mean.”
“Mean how?” Braden asked, catching me off guard with his vehemence. “What did he say to you?”
“It doesn’t matter. He didn’t mean it.” Of course, I was the one who said that Carol Davenport meant everything she said to me earlier in the day. The anger was doubled, maybe even tripled or quadrupled, but the feelings were already there. Could that be true with Griffin, too?
“Of course he didn’t mean it,” Cillian said without hesitation. “He loves you. No one can argue with that.”
“I still want to kill him,” Braden said. “He could’ve hurt her.”
“He didn’t, though.” I didn’t miss the warning look Cillian shot Braden as he rubbed his hand over my shoulder. “Aisling is fine. Redmond was there. We simply need to figure this out and move forward.”
“We definitely need to figure this out,” I agreed, moving toward the bed and leaving Cillian and Braden to discuss the finer points of research. “Is he okay?”
“He’s going to have a bruise on the side of his face as big as your brother’s fist,” Dad answered, shifting his eyes to me. “I’ll bet he’ll have a headache the size of your ego.” It was a lame joke and I didn’t bother to smile. “He should be okay, kid.”
“I want to sit with him.”
Redmond opened his mouth to argue, but Dad immediately got up and made room for me to settle at Griffin’s side.
“I think that’s a good idea,” Dad said, opting to take a chair at the side of the bed as I sat next to Griffin. “We’ll all sit with him.”
Redmond glanced between us, his jaw set. “I don’t want her sitting by him when he wakes up. He could attack her again.”
“He didn’t attack me before,” I shot back. “He didn’t even get near me.”
“Not for lack of trying.”
“He was just … confused.” I looked to Dad for help. “He didn’t know what he was doing.”
“I know, kid.” Dad jerked his chair closer to the bed and picked a spot near me to sit. “I know he wouldn’t purposely hurt you. Even when I didn’t trust him at the beginning I knew he would never physically hurt you. He’s not that kind of man.”
“He was that kind of man this afternoon,” Redmond persisted, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t want her to be the one closest to him when he wakes. We might not be able to get to her if he attacks.”
“He won’t attack.” I was firm. “He won’t. It was the storm.”
“You don’t know that,” Redmond fired back. “Maybe the storm got inside and corrupted his blood. Maybe he’ll never be the same again.”
Griffin wasn’t the only one feeling violent. I wanted to launch myself off the bed and wring Redmond’s neck.
“Redmond,” Dad said mildly, holding up a hand. “I’ll sit with Aisling and make sure she’s all right. I think you should go into the hallway and talk strategy with your brothers.”
“What if he attacks?”
“Then I will be here … or are you insinuating I can’t handle Griffin and protect your sister should the need arise?”
Redmond blanched. “Of course not.”
“I don’t need protection,” I grumbled, tucking the covers tighter at Griffin’s side. “He’ll be fine.”
“Of course he will.” Dad’s tone was soothing. “Jerry suffered no lingering effects from his episode. I’m sure it will be the same with Griffin.” Dad looked back to Redmond. “I told you to go. I’ll stay with your sister until Griffin wakes.”
Redmond didn’t look convinced. “What if you need me?”
“I’m sure we’ll manage to muddle through.”
Redmond stared at me for a long beat and then nodded, his shoulders stiff. “Fine. I won’t be far.”
“I’ll alert the authorities.” Dad leaned back in his chair, comfortable to sit in silence with me for as long as it took for my vocal cords to loosen up. He did the same thing when I was a teenager, and often I ended up owning up to whatever I did wrong simply to avoid the silence. This situation was no different.
“He’s going to feel awful.”
Dad made a clucking sound with his tongue. “He will. I know him well enough to believe he’ll be swimming in guilt when he surfaces. That will be a whole other problem we’ll have to deal with. I’m not looking forward to it.
“Right now, though, I want to deal with you,” he continued. “What is it exactly that you’re feeling?”
“I’m fine.” The words were out before I even took a moment to think about them.
“You’re very far from fine.” Dad leaned forward and took my hand. “You’re pale. Your hands are shaking. You’re very obviously close to tears and I can tell you’ve already done some crying. I’ll wager that your stomach is upset and even an ice cream bar won’t make you feel better. That’s on top of the general ache that’s probably building in your heart.”
“How did you know that?”
“I know you. It’s okay.” Dad squeezed my hand. “This situation is a nightmare. I won’t pretend otherwise. What happened today is not Griffin’s fault. It’s not your fault either.”
“I’m not blaming myself.”
“Aren’t you?” Dad cocked a challenging eyebrow. “He might be the one you’re going to marry, but I’m still the one who knows you best, kid. I know that you’re beating yourself up inside.
“You think if you hadn’t gotten out of Redmond’s truck and helped Carol you wouldn’t have been taken to the precinct for questioning,” he continued. “If that didn’t happen, Griffin wouldn’t have left early. He wouldn’t have been out in the storm. In your head, this is all on you.”
Crap. He did know me. I didn’t like that one bit. “I maintain Jerry knows me best.” I sounded petulant, but I didn’t care. “There are loads of things you don’t know.”
“Name one.”
“I once stole your razor and shaved my legs.”
“I know. You dulled the blades so badly I had to wear toilet paper on my face for twenty minutes to staunch the bleeding. Everyone at work asked me if I was having an allergic reaction to my new aftershave.”
I couldn’t stop myself from laughing. “Fine. Maybe you know me.”
“Maybe I do.” Dad leaned back and folded his hands across his stomach. “You can’t blame yourself. It’s a waste of time. Griffin will carry enough blame for both of you as it is. You’ve got to pull yourself together.”
“I am together.” I mostly meant it. “You have to make sure my brothers behave themselves. They’re the ones who will make this worse.”
“I will do my best with your brothers, but I’m not going to admonish them for protecting you. Redmond did the right thing today. He made sure Griffin didn’t put his hands on you and he essentially saved Griffin in the process. Now, Griffin might have a whopper of a headache and be in the mood to pout when he
wakes, but Redmond is not to blame for that.”
“Griffin isn’t either.” I refused to let that go. “He would never hurt me.”
“Who are you trying to convince?” Dad challenged. “I’ve already said I know that. If I thought he was capable of that he would’ve been dead long ago. I wasn’t joking when I told him that I know how to hide a body.”
I pressed my lips together, uncertain.
“Are you saying that you think he really meant what he said?” Dad prodded.
I shook my head, tears threatening to flood forward. “No, but the things Carol Davenport said to me … I think she really believed them, so … .” I left the rest hanging, hating the way Dad chuckled as realization dawned.
“So you think Griffin meant it when he said he couldn’t stand the sound of your voice.”
“He said he wanted me to shut up. That’s different.”
“That’s a semantics argument, and it’s hardly important,” Dad said. “Do you honestly think Griffin is the sort of man who would stay with you if he didn’t love you? I don’t. Quite frankly, I wish he would love you a little less, because the petting and cooing gets old.”
I rolled my eyes, which I think was the reaction Dad was looking for because his grin was triumphant.
“I know you think I’m being ridiculous,” I said, collecting myself to the best of my ability. “It’s just … if I believe Mrs. Davenport was saying what she truly felt, doesn’t it stand to reason that Griffin believed what he said?”
“I think you’re comparing two very different things. Carol Davenport never liked you. She blamed you for Angelina’s failings. She was an unhappy woman who had nothing but mean bones in her body.
“On the flip side, Griffin loves you to distraction. I guarantee he’s going to hate himself when he wakes,” Dad continued. “He’ll feel bad enough for the both of you. I don’t think harboring doubts about his love will do either of you any good.”
“I hate it when you’re right,” I grumbled, crossing my arms over my chest. “I don’t want Griffin to feel guilty. This wasn’t his fault.”
“It wasn’t your fault either.”
“It feels like my fault. This wouldn’t be happening to him if he hadn’t hooked up with me. Nothing paranormal ever happened to him before me.”
“Do you think he would’ve been safe from the storms if you weren’t around to look out for him?” Dad countered. “Griffin is the type to run headlong into danger. I think it’s very likely that he would’ve gotten himself in trouble helping others without even knowing what was happening.”
I exhaled heavily, frustration rolling through me. “Must you always be right?”
“Only when it comes to my children.”
“It’s annoying.”
“So is walking around with a face full of toilet paper because my only daughter needed to shave her legs in a hurry for a date with a football player.” Dad’s grin was smug. “Ah, you didn’t realize I knew about that part of the story. Well, I did. And you have much better taste in men now than you did then.”
I didn’t want to laugh. It was the exact worst time. I couldn’t help myself, though. I giggled and wiped my hands over my face to slap back the tears.
“Thank you, Daddy.”
“You’re welcome.” Dad smiled at me for a long time before shifting his eyes to Griffin. “I believe he’s about to wake. Prepare yourself, because I think the next Grimlock family meltdown will be a doozy.”
I had a feeling he was right. Still, I plastered a warm smile on my face and hovered over Griffin so he would be looking directly at me when he woke.
It was time for round two.
16
Sixteen
“Hey.”
Griffin’s eyes were cloudy when he woke, confusion evident. He smiled when he saw me and stretched. “Hey. Are we taking a nap? I don’t remember getting home.”
Hope surged. Maybe he wouldn’t remember after all. I saw that wasn’t the case, though, when he furrowed his brow and ran a hand through his hair. His face twisted as things slowly started coming back to him.
“How are you feeling?” I asked, working overtime to tamp down my worry.
“I … oh, God. Oh, my … .” He jerked away when I tried to rest my hand on his arm. “Don’t. Don’t touch me!”
My heart lodged in my throat as I blinked rapidly in an attempt to fight back tears. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”
“No. No. No.” Griffin shook his head and pressed his eyes shut. “I can’t believe I said that to you. I can’t believe I almost … .”
I cut him off by grabbing his wrist, giving it a hard squeeze to get his attention. “You didn’t hurt me. You didn’t lay a hand on me.”
“I tried to. I would have.” Griffin jerked his arm from my hand. “Don’t touch me right now. I just … can’t.”
“Griffin, please don’t let this eat at you.” My voice cracked and I was furious at myself for it. Crying wouldn’t help anything. “You can’t control what happened. It came out of nowhere.”
“Stop making excuses for me!” Griffin’s eyes fired and his tone was harsh, causing me to jolt. He held up his hands, tears swamping his eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to frighten you, but I clearly have. I need a little space. I need to … I don’t know. I need to think.”
I didn’t like the sound of that one little bit. “No good ever comes from thinking. I should know.”
Griffin didn’t as much as smile. “Baby, I need a little time away from you right now. It’s not you. It’s me.”
Ah, the breakup excuse the world over. I was having none of that. “No. I won’t let you pull away. I … .”
“Aisling, I think you should go.” Dad took me by surprise when he smoothly gripped my arm and pulled me from the bed. “Griffin needs time to decompress. He needs quiet. You’re not conducive to rest.”
“What a weird way to insult me out of nowhere,” I grumbled.
Dad smirked. “I’m not insulting you. I’m trying to help Griffin. Besides, I have a job for you. You need to head out if you expect to get it done for dinner.”
I narrowed my eyes, suspicious. “You have a job for me? You have a job for me now? Are you kidding? I’m not going on a job.”
“It’s not that type of job.” Dad remained calm despite my theatrics. “I need you to go with Cillian to the funeral home.”
“Why?”
“Because Harry Turner’s family is there – I already checked – and they’re making plans for his viewing and service. I need you to talk to them about the witch story Griffin told you earlier.”
“How do you even know about that? I didn’t have time to tell you.”
“No, but Redmond did.” Dad refused to back down. The look on his face promised mayhem if I pushed too far. “You need to go with Cillian to see if you can find information on that symbol. I’ll stick close to Griffin and make sure he’s all right.”
Warning bells went off in my head though I knew it was ridiculous to even consider the notion Dad was lying to me and had something else planned. “You’re not going to kill him while I’m running stupid errands, are you?”
“Kill him?” Dad arched an eyebrow. “Why would I kill him?”
“You just said ten minutes ago that you know how to hide a body. I don’t want his body hidden. If he’s not here when I get back … .”
Dad made an exaggerated face. “You’re so dramatic. I promise he’ll be here when you return. I swear it. I have no intention of hurting him. I do think, however, my presence is preferable right now compared to yours.”
“That’s a frightening thought,” I muttered, darting a gaze to Griffin to see how he felt about the suggestion. He stared at the blanket, his face intense. “Do you want me to leave?”
Griffin swallowed hard and forced his eyes to me. “I don’t want to upset you right now. I need to think. It would probably be best if you took a little break.”
I hated his flat affect. “You’ll b
e here when I get back? You won’t leave, will you?”
Griffin opened his mouth but didn’t immediately answer.
“He won’t leave,” Dad said firmly. “I’ll make sure he’s here. I’ll take care of him. You just need to get out of the house for a bit. Things will be better when you return.”
I wasn’t sure I believed that. “What if they’re not?”
“Then we’ll tackle it together.”
I wanted to stay. My heart told me leaving was a bad idea. My head, though, recognized Griffin was struggling not to explode and demand I leave. If that happened I’d dig my heels in and push him to the point of no return.
“Fine.” I blew out a sigh as I ran my hands over my hips to settle myself. “I’ll be back. If you’re not here when I get back, Griffin, I will track you down … and I’ll bring my brothers along. If you think I’m a pain, just wait until I force them to do my bidding.”
“Be careful while you’re out.” Griffin’s voice was low. “If it storms, run. Stay away from anyone who might be affected. Don’t try to help, even though I know that will be your first instinct. Just … run. Promise me.”
“I’ll promise if you promise to be here when I get back.”
Griffin snagged my gaze and I could see the myriad of hurt feelings and guilt floating through his dark eyes. “I promise to be here. Now you promise to be really careful.”
“I promise.” I meant it. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
“DON’T POUT.”
Cillian gave me a derisive look as we walked through the funeral parlor door.
“I’m not pouting.”
“You’re pouting.”
“I am not.”
“You are, too.”
“I am not.”
“You are … you know what? Fine, you’re not pouting.” Cillian held his hands up and did a wonderful impression of our father trying to control his temper. “You’re in a fine frame of mind. Angels want to weep in your presence because your benevolence is so overwhelming.”
“Ha, ha.” I elbowed his side as I shifted and sighed as I surveyed the room. “I’m sorry. I can’t stop worrying about Griffin.”
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