CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
GRIFFIN

For days, I’ve twisted myself up wondering what will happen when the tour ends, and London goes back to her life in Tulsa… without me.

But I don’t have to worry about that anymore, because I finally found the solution: make her feel like she needs to stay here.

Don’t judge me.

I’m a desperate man, right now.

When we started this Amaryllis family, one thing became abundantly clear very early on.

Stone is an unreliable asshole.

We made sure to cut as many of our songs back to just the guitars as quickly as possible, which is exactly the problem now. The only way to make sure London stays is to make sure she has job security after the tour ends.

So, guess what I’m sitting here doing in the back corner of my bus.

Yep.

New songs. New songs that require London and her beautifully talented hands and brain—and body.

Now, I’m getting off-topic.

If she knows there is a permanent spot for her in the Amaryllis family, then maybe, just maybe, she’ll choose to stay with us and I can avoid having my heart ripped out of my goddamn bleeding chest. The hydraulics of the door interrupt my emotional meltdown.

Great. They’re back.

My brothers decided to get in a game of basketball before lunch. I normally join them, but I had more important things to attend to.

“Griff!” Travis slides the door open leading into my quarters at the back of the bus. “You missed a great game today, dude. Adair actually scored on Nash.”

“Fantastic.” I turn the track up that is currently playing through my ears and try to drown the noise out.

Travis pops one earbud out of my ear and says, “I said, what was so important you couldn’t come play and make it an even match?”

I shrug and keep scribbling potential lyrics on my smartphone. I can write a hell of a lot faster with the smart pen than trying to type, even if no one else will ever be able to read this shit.

“All right. Don’t want to talk about it. That’s cool.” Travis puts his feet up on the arm of my chair as he sprawls out on the sofa. “What was it?”

“What happened to being cool with not talking about it?”

“That was clearly lies and propaganda. C’mon, Griff, you know me better than that.”

I sure effing do. I knew there was no way that would hold out.

“Since you don’t want to talk about it, I can surmise it’s about our very own Rockstar Cinderella, London James.”

I spin around in my chair and look at him for the first time since he barged into my makeshift studio without asking. His face is full of humor. He clearly isn’t trying to be an asshole, he’s just naturally good at it. “She’s worried about this all fading away and being a pipe dream anyway. Calling her that isn’t going to help her feel any better.”

Travis pops open the mini-fridge perched on the countertop. “Is tropical punch the only flavor you ever buy?”

“Do you see any others?”

“No.” The plastic bottles crumple as he slides them around on the small shelf. “No, I do not.”

“Guess that’s your answer.”

“I like the blue ones,” he says, pouting.

I whirl my head around and glare at him again. “Why the hell are you in my Gatorade anyway? Go get yours, man.”

“It’s all the way in there,” he says, pointing through the door that I will remember to lock next time.

“It’s two steps, dude. You’ll be fine.” I slam the fridge shut and the tiny noise that comes from the mini-fridge door is almost embarrassing. It’s really hard to make a point when you’re living in a space that feels like it was built for ants.

Travis’s jaw comes unhinged. “Whatever crawled up your ass and died sure did a number on your mood.”

“Would you please just go?” I drag my hand down my face. “I’m trying to work.”

“What exactly are you working on? We’re not due back in the studio for months.”

Sigh. “I am well aware of that, Travis.”

“Then what are we doing here?” He asks rummaging through my cabinets. “Don’t you have any beef jerky or anything half-way normal in here?”

Jesus. Christ. ”Would you get out?”

“Fine.” He walks back through the same door he barged in through. “Mister Crabby is in a shitty mood today. Surprised? Me either. Do not go in there.”

“I was fine until you barged in,” I yell and attempt to slam my sliding door. It closes with a swish.

An effing swish.

I turn the track back on and try to sink back into my work, but everything sounds off. The rhythm I had queued up earlier, and had thought was perfect, sounds horrible now. I try a few others. It’s no use. I yank the earbuds out of my ears and toss them on the desk. I wonder what London is doing.

Griffin: Hey. How’s your toe?

I sit my phone on the desktop and wait impatiently for that all-important ding of a new message notification.

I’m still waiting.

Ding.

Score!

I pick up my phone and swipe the screen on. New message received in Group Chat from Travis.

Damn it.

Travis: You guys know Griff’s in there working on more songs, right?

Adair: No. Shouldn’t we all be in there for that?

Nash: Leave him alone, guys. Some people have creative outlets for their stress. Others have less productive ways… like you two.

Carly: What’s wrong Adair? Tired of being left behind in the sandbox?

Adair: I don’t get left behind in the sandbox! If anyone gets left behind in the sandbox… Why are we talking about sandboxes?

Carly: *eye roll emoji*

Adair: That’s right. I just won that battle of wits.

Carly: *double eye roll emojis*

Adair: I’m not playing bass for something that says “Oh London, you’re so fine…”

Griffin: *middle finger emoji*

Carly: If Griffin cares about her as much as it seems like he does, then he needs to do something special to show her EXACTLY how he feels.

Adair: Why does it have to be something special? Why can’t it just be something simple like ‘Hey, my name is Griffin. I’m a little bit of a dumbass, but I really like you.’

Carly: Yeah, that’ll go over well. @Griffin, don’t take love advice from Adair.

Griffin: I’m definitely not.

Carly: @Adair, if he doesn’t make a grand gesture, she’ll think he’s just your standard rockstar with a revolving door to his bedroom.

Travis:  She’s talking about you, dude. @Adair

Nash: *laughing so hard I’m crying emoji*

Adair: You’re all assholes.

Travis: Speaking of assholes, go wash yours. You smell.

Adair: *middle finger emoji*

Carly: *shower emoji + baby emoji*

Travis: She just called you a baby. @Adair

Adair: I got it, alright? Let it go, Travis.

Travis: He got it, Carly. Maybe we should stop picking on him.

Carly: Wow! That’s amazing. I didn’t think babies could understand sarcasm.

Travis: *laughing emoji + flame emoji* Burn!

Adair: I hate you guys.

Ding.

Thank you! Finally, something besides these idiots. New message received from London James.

London: It’s better! We decided to hit that mall we saw yesterday.

A selfie loads with her and Carter standing in front of the main entrance with huge smiles on their faces and the puppy dog filter gave them both floppy ears, freckles, and whiskers. It is the cutest thing I’ve seen in a long time.

There is very clearly one thing I should not do. I should not jump up and find a driver willing to take me to the mall, so I can spend the afternoon with London and Carter.

I should not do that, I tell myself repeatedly, as I shut down the computer and reach for my ball cap.

I definitely should not…

Maybe she will enjoy the company.

She didn’t seem to mind when I showed up this morning.

Granted she was half asleep.

And she did kick me in the shin.

I definitely shouldn’t go meet them.

Griffin: Devon, are you busy?

Devon: Just finished filling out the paperwork on this morning’s incident.

Griffin: What was that about anyway? Sounded a little more intense than the standard photo op seeker.

Devon: It was Stone.

Griffin: WTF?!

Devon: The situation was handled.

Griffin: How? Stone doesn’t back down easily.

Devon: Carly.

Griffin: Fantastic. So that’s why Adair is in such a bright mood then.

Devon: That’d be my guess. You know he hates to see her get mixed up in Stone’s life.

Griffin: I don’t blame him. I need a distraction, man. What are you doing today?Devon: Going to meet Casey and London. I guess they’re shopping today. *shrug emoji*