“I thought we’d see Jake up here now that you’re back. He must be slammed at the bar, with Serena out of the mix.”
“He is. I offered to help him out as soon as I can tear myself away from the lodge and the new snow and all the new ladies around here.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “I’m glad to see you boys growing up and no longer playing the field so much. And by ‘you boys,’ I kind of mean you.”
She was on his left side, and he was having trouble hearing every word. But how to switch sides without being obvious about it? He stopped, pretending to adjust a binding. She waited for him, and he managed to sneak to her other side when they got underway again.
It was exhausting, all this maneuvering. Why didn’t he just tell her? Izzy, you’re going to have to speak up because I have the hearing of a half-deaf eighty-year old. Dad hears better than me, and he ruptured an eardrum back in the sixties. In fact, that little gnome statue in the garden probably hears better than me. So can you maybe stand only on my right side and make sure to speak clearly and enunciate every word? K thanks.
“I’m going to stick with ‘no comment’ on my love life, but thanks,” he told her instead. “Especially because I don’t hear a lot of true confessions coming out of you.”
“You did back then! You were my go-to shoulder to cry on all through sophomore year, before you abandoned me to go be a celebrity.”
He laughed as a drift of snow tumbled off a pine branch and scattered icy crystals across his face. “I stayed as long as I could. And you had Jake.”
“I know all that, I’m just giving you a hard time. Jake got so sick of my drama, he used to put on his headphones and block me out. You never did that.”
“Because you would have beat my ass.” He shook a clump of ice off his ski pole. “You were such a little warrior kid. Either that or you would have cried, which was a hundred times worse.”
“I did cry. And you were always right there for me. There was nothing like a Griffin hug to make it all better. Seriously, Griff, sometimes I think you don’t realize that you essentially raised me and Jake. Dad was so messed up, none of us dared to go to him with our problems. We went to you. You were a fucking hero, my brother.”
“Oh stop that.”
“I’m serious. But who did you go to with your problems? Jake and I had each other. Gracie had all her imaginary friends and fairy houses. But after Mom died and Kai left, you were on your own.”
“Not everyone needs to unload all the time. I deal with my own shit, in my own way.”
Isabelle tossed him a “yeah right” look, along with a flash of dimples. “Well, just so you know, I’m here and I have ears.”
He winced at her unfortunate phrasing.
“What? What did I say?”
“Nothing. I’m glad you’re here.”
She skied alongside him and blew him a kiss. “Race you back to the house. First one back gets to ambush Kai with snowballs.”
“Do you have a snowball death wish? No one beats Kai at snowball fights, and you’re out of practice.”
“We can practice on the way.”
“You’re on!”
Shrieking with glee—Isabelle loving nothing more than a ski race—she launched herself down the trail.
That word—hero—kept coming up. Griffin skied after Isabelle, his heart pumping. Even though Izzy was a better skier, with his physical prowess he could catch up to her if he chose. Right now, he chose to lag behind so he could think.
If he really was such a hero, there was something he could do, right now, that could make a difference. What was holding him back?
Maybe it was time he went rogue. So to speak.
24
Pete the Sports Anchor had been after him for a follow-up story ever since that first press conference announcing his retirement. When Griffin called and pitched him on a Skype call from his hometown, he jumped at the offer.
He didn’t tell anyone except Serena what he was planning. Even though he would have loved some support, he wanted to do this on his own. After setting himself up in the ski room, which provided the right kind of athletic backdrop, he dialed the TV studio.
“Griffin Rockwell, back from the dead. What are those weird wooden things behind you?” Pete’s jocular tone brought him right back to his old world.
“These are what prehistoric people used when they wanted to go fast.”
“Thank God we live in a time with combustion engines.”
“Amen.”
“So, Rogue, how’s it been returning to your old hometown? You’re in the Cascades, right?”
“That’s right. Little town called Rocky Peak. Middle of nowhere, but it’s home.”
“People excited to have you back?”
“Yes and no.” He drew in a deep breath and dove in. “Some things change, some things don’t. I was sad to see that my old football coach retired. He was a good guy. It brought back the reason I quit playing football and switched to motocross.”
Pete seemed to sense that something more serious was coming. “Sounds like some history there.”
“Yes. And now I’m worried about history repeating itself. I love sports because the playing field is level, or at least it ought to be. The best coaches make sure it is. The bad ones, well, they can do a lot of damage. People can get carried away with results, you know? Six-and-oh, that’s a good record. But not if kids are getting mistreated.”
“Oh ho, this is a whole different side of the Rogue. Haven’t seen this before. You gonna name names?”
“I don’t have to. Everyone around here knows who I’m talking about.”
“Gotcha. Well okay, things are heating up there in the mountains. On to another topic. You were always such a fierce competitor. What do you do without any races in the works?”
“I actually have a big competition coming up any day now.”
Pete gave him a big thumbs up. “That’s what we like to hear. Motocross? Maybe some local dirt biking? Or those ancient skis back there?”
“None of the above. Snowman building competition. If you want to cover it, bring the crew. Maybe we can live stream.”
The interview ended with more joking around, but Griffin knew perfectly well that he’d dropped a grenade into the community of Rocky Peak and surrounding areas. The link to that interview would be going viral—at least locally—in a matter of minutes. The pile of crap that was going to rain down on his head…it would be epic.
Kai was the first to react. He was standing outside the ski room with his fists planted on his hips when Griffin came out.
“What was that all about?” he demanded.
“You were watching?”
“Of course I was watching. I always watch when you’re on the air. Were you talking about Coach Nelson?”
Griffin sighed and told him the story of what had happened with Jiggy Rodriguez and his suspicions about Marley Derrick.
“Damn. He was always good to me.” Kai dragged a hand through his hair.
“That’s the thing. Jiggy, Marley, notice a pattern there?”
Kai stared at him. “Holy shit. You’re saying he picks on the non-white kids?”
“That’s what I’m thinking.”
“That’s fucked up. That’s gotta stop.”
“Yeah, why do you think I just did that interview? You know how much shit I’m about to get?” Griffin brushed past him. He wanted to find Serena. She was the only one he wanted to talk to right now. She knew how it felt to stick your neck out publicly like that. Besides, he always wanted to be with her. It was kind of an ongoing situation.
“Dude, wait up. Why didn’t you ever say anything back then?”
Griffin whirled around. “To who?”
“Me. Dad. Anyone.”
“You? Are you kidding? You were all messed up after the accident. So was Dad. And I told you, Coach threatened me. He did it again when I talked to him right after I got back. Said he had some kind of dirt on one of my sisters.”
“F
uck him.” Kai’s outrage could have lit a bottle rocket.
“That’s what he does. That’s his pattern. He loses his cool and hurts someone—a kid who can’t fight back—then threatens them to keep quiet. No one wants to be humiliated, or their friends or family or whatever.”
Kai rolled his neck, as if ready to dive into a fight right then and there. “Yeah, well, he’s in for some major humiliation if he keeps this up.”
Griffin stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Kai, I got this. Back off. This is my battle. I should have spoken up before and I didn’t.”
“You couldn’t.”
“Yeah, I could have. I could have taken the chance. I had good reasons not to but the big one was that I was afraid of Coach Nelson. I didn’t think anyone would believe me over a coach. I was just a kid.”
“You’re not a kid now,” Kai said, pointing out the obvious.
“Exactly.” Griffin thumped his fist against the solid muscle of his abdomen.“I’m not a kid. And I’m not just a guy. I’m Griffin Rockwell, motocross superstar. I can call up Pete from Sports Channel and he’ll put me on the air. People have to fucking listen to me now.”
Kai nodded slowly, taking in his passion and intensity as if he’d never quite seen it fully before. “Guess you got famous for a reason.”
“And I’m not going to waste it. That coach is going down.” He headed for the corridor, even more antsy to see Serena and get her take on the interview.
“Griff,” Kai called to him. “Sorry I wasn’t around for you. That’s a lot to deal with all on your own.”
“Yeah, well…it’s all good.”
But that apology meant something, it really did. Even though it was so many years ago, and he knew why Kai had left, it still felt good to hear that ‘sorry.’ “I appreciate it,” he added.
He kept on going, only to hear Kai call after him one more time.
“What?”
“Former,” his brother said.
“What?”
“Former motocross superstar.” Kai grinned. “Just saying.”
Griffin flipped him the bird, but he was grinning too.
Not that he’d ever doubted it, but he and Kai would be just fine.
But not nearly as fine as him and Serena.
She took one look at him and opened her arms. “How did it go?”
He dove into her embrace, sank into her warmth and softness, inhaled the scent of fresh-washed hair and lead pencil from her sketch work.
“It’s done. I did it.” He buried his head in her shoulder. “Fuck, I feel like shit.”
“What?” She tried to draw away, to look at his face, but he didn’t want her to see him. “Why?”
“Because I don’t know what’s going to happen now. This isn’t like me. I do all my talking with my body. I throw myself into races or competitions. I’m not a rebel like Kai or a warrior like Isabelle. I’m just a guy who can ride bikes.”
She was stroking his back in slow circles that felt incredibly soothing. “I know how it feels to step out on a limb with no clue what’s going to happen next. I didn’t sleep for a week after the first article came out about my kissing farmers. It’s terrifying, but you’ll handle it. You’ll be fine.”
He straightened up and cupped her face in his hands. Under her wide, concerned eyes, her tiny diamond chip sparkled in her nose. She was a jewel, Serena was. He looked at her for such a long time that she started blinking nervously.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked.
“Yeah. I’m okay. But Coach Nelson is about to have an epic wipeout.” The savage satisfaction in his voice made her blink.
“See, you are a warrior, Griffin, just like Isabelle. Look at the way you’ve been protecting me all this time. You’re my knight in—”
“Don’t say it.”
“I was going to say, knight in muddy helmet. Totally dorky joke.” She tucked a finger in his belt loop and tugged him to her. “Or you could be my knight in lavender-scented bed sheets. That works too.”
Arousal spread through him like slow molasses, starting at the touch of her hand and flowing from there. “I’ll tell you this,” he muttered, jerking her hips toward his. “Not one kid is going to feel the way I did, not here in Rocky Peak, not on my watch. Ain’t going to happen, not here. That’s a vow.”
Her eyes widened as she took in his intensity. “What are you going to do?”
Energy surged through him, waves of it, as invigorating as jolts of electricity through a power line. He’d gone public. The story was out and it would be heard and things would change. It would be like dominoes. More stories would come out, people would want more details, the coach would feel the pressure. Things would change.
All that energy and emotion raced through his bloodstream like some kind of drug. Or maybe Serena was the drug, with her curvaceous body and her sexy smile and that come-hither look on her face.
“Well, right now I’m going to take you to bed and strip you naked and lick my way up from your little toe to your right earlobe.”
“My little toe is crooked,” she said breathlessly, backing up as he advanced toward her.
“I know. I like it that way. After I’m done licking, I’m going to nibble. Got any whipped cream in this joint?”
“I have some Rocky Peak Nugget ice cream in the freezer.”
“That’s going on your nipples, and then into my mouth.”
He saw her throat move as she swallowed. “Um, okay, I get it, dessert is good—”
“Not as good as your pussy.”
Her pupils dilated until her eyes were awash in black, dark as coffee. “You keep interrupting and distracting me from my question, which is—”
He cupped her breasts, which were filling out her sleep camisole in a way he couldn’t resist for one more minute. Those long, dark red nipples were made to torture him. Fondling the soft peaks through the fabric, he barely heard the rest of her question.
She drew in a long breath—probably fighting against the desire he was deliberately stoking in her. “What I meant is, what are you going to do about that vow of yours?”
“Oh. That. I have no idea. I’ll figure it out after I fuck your brains out.”
She abandoned her effort to carry on a serious conversation, and unzipped his pants. “Good plan.”
25
If Griffin had thought that retiring upset his fellow Rock Peakers, that was nothing compared to the cold shoulder he got the next time he went into town. People glared at him, crossed the street to avoid him. One girl even spat her gum out near him, but he decided not to take that one personally.
No one smiled at him except Betsy deVane, who was ever the contrarian. “Looks like you’re in hot water,” she said as she rang up his coffee beans. “Big hot water.”
Boingo bounced from behind the counter and bumped against his leg, looking for some love.
“It’ll blow over.”
“You can hope. Heard there’s an investigation into that football coach.”
“Oh yeah?” He hadn’t heard from the high school yet, but he expected to. They were talking to current students first, and according to Jake, who knew all the local law enforcement, planned to call Griffin after Thanksgiving.
“Team just lost their first game. Everyone says they’re all messed up in the head now. Season’s probably ruined.”
His gut clenched. “Sorry to hear that. Maybe they’ll turn things around. They obviously have talent.”
“You can hope.”
“Well, have a happy Thanksgiving.” He fled out of there with his groceries, only to field an angry gesture from Marie, driving past in the town’s only taxi, an old Chevy Malibu with a mountain peak painted on the side.
Being the town goat sucked.
He drove back up to the lodge as fast as his rig would allow. At this point, he’d rather deal with Mad Max than the townspeople of Rocky Peak. And besides, Serena was there.
The rest of the family had gotten used to Ser
ena and Griffin always being just a little bit late to meals. Griffin had always had a sketchy sense of time when it came to anything except minutes ticking past on a race course. And Serena was used to losing herself in her paintings and ignoring the passage of time. Even though they set alarms and alerts on their phones, it never seemed to be enough to get them out of the door in a timely way.
Luckily, Max only yelled at them about it once, after which Serena threatened to paint him as a gargoyle if he didn’t mellow out. That made him laugh, and all the piss and vinegar faded away.
So no one was surprised when they were the last to make their way to the big restaurant dining room on Thanksgiving Day. Everyone had pitched in to help with the cooking and table-setting, then disappeared back to their own living-quarters to dress for dinner.
“What is this concept, dressing for dinner?” Griffin had grumbled to Serena. “This is rugged man’s territory out here. When we dress for dinner, it means kicking off our work boots before coming inside.”
“You’re so full of shit. I’ve seen you rock the hell out of a tux. I’m not buying your mountain man shtick.”
He grinned at her. She really was getting to know him well. “The only reason I’m going along with this ‘dress for dinner’ crap is because I know you’re going to wear something outrageously sexy with no underwear.”
“For Thanksgiving? Not happening.”
“But I want to feel you up between courses, when everyone else is passed out in front of the football game.”
“Babe, you can feel me up anytime you want, just not on Thanksgiving in front of your family.”
That seemed reasonable, even though it didn’t stop him from fake-pouting and stocking up with some pre-dinner fondling.
As usual, they were the last to arrive.
Except for the silent investor, Lyle Guero, who had texted Nicole that he was running late. He was the reason they’d decided to make it a more formal Thanksgiving, and to transform the dining room into a wilderness feast for the senses. Pine boughs were draped around the room, bringing the fragrance of the trails inside. Down the middle of the table paraded clusters of rose hips, birch bark place settings, and miniature squashes in whimsical shapes, each holding a squat beeswax candle.
The Rogue Page 17