“He got in a fight with a customer.”
“Shit,” I said and rubbed my forehead. I was on the verge of a massive headache. “Where’s the customer?”
“He left.”
“Do you think he’ll press charges?”
She shook her head. “Griffin was too drunk to even fight back. If anyone could press charges, it would be him.”
“Don’t be so sure about that. He can press charges all he wants. Making them stick is another thing.”
“I doubt it. We explained that his father died, so Griffin is not himself.”
“I hope you’re right.” I looked at Griffin. “Can you help me get him upstairs?”
“Yes,” Casey said.
Griffin sat up. “I can get up on my own.” He pushed himself out of his seat and only wobbled a little bit. “I don’t need anyone to help me.”
I gestured to the back of the bar. “Lead the way then.”
Going up the stairs after a drunk person who refused help was a long and painful process. I wanted to smack some sense into him, but in his state, it would be pointless.
Finally, after what felt like a year, we made it inside, and Griffin collapsed on his couch.
I sat down on his coffee table. “Griffin, what is going on?”
I thought maybe he’d talk to me with alcohol in his system because he sure wouldn’t talk to me while he was sober. Although those times were becoming rarer and rarer.
“What do you mean?” he asked, pulling his ice pack away and looking at it.
I ripped it from his hand and threw it down next to me.
“Whoa,” he said. “You’re mad.”
“Hell yes, I’m mad. I’ve been busting my ass, trying to keep your bar running, all while working forty hours a week at my own job. Meanwhile, you’re drinking and getting into fights.”
He held up a finger. “One. One fight.”
“Oh,” I said sarcastically. “That makes it so much better.”
“I think it does.”
“I can’t keep doing this.”
He frowned. “Doing what?”
“I can’t keep running things for you. I don’t have the energy. I’m exhausted.”
“No one said you had to.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“Okay,” he said in a smart tone.
“I’m telling you I can’t do this anymore, and you’re telling me no one asked me to.” I wanted to pull my hair out from frustration. “Griffin, I am your friend. Actually, at this point, I would like to think we’re more than friends. You don’t have to ask me. It’s what friends do. But friends don’t turn around and use their loved ones. You need to figure out what you want because I can’t do everything for you any longer.”
As I said my speech, I realized something. Something I couldn’t believe I hadn’t realized before.
“Holy shit,” I whispered.
“What?”
I looked at him in shock. “I love you, Griffin Davis. I love you more than just a best friend. I’m in love with you.” I shook my head in disbelief. That explained why I’d been busting my ass for him.
He looked away from me. “I didn’t ask for this from you.”
Ouch. No, I love you too. Not even a thank you.
I picked up his hand. “You’re right. But I do love you, and it is killing me to see you throw away everything you worked so hard for.”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“I don’t know how you feel, but I do know that your father would be sad if he could see you now.”
Griffin’s head whipped back in my direction.
“Your dad would not want you to slowly kill yourself, drinking, while running your business into the ground. I want to help you, but I need you to help me. I just can’t go one like I have. Not all by myself.” I sent him a small smile. “Please.”
He gently pulled his hand out from under mine, and I thought he was going to put it on top. I actually thought he was going to reassure me that he would clean up his act and be a better boss.
“Get out.”
“Excuse me?” I said, taken aback.
“Get out, Madeline. I don’t want or need your help.”
“But, Griffin…I love you. I want to help.”
He jumped up from the couch and pointed to the door. “I said, get out,” he said through clenched teeth. “Now.”
I sluggishly stood as I tried not to cry. “Please, Griff.”
He marched over to his door and opened it. “Leave. I don’t want to see you anymore.”
I was taken aback. “Do you mean…”
“It’s over.”
“But why?”
“I don’t have to tell you that. It’s part of our deal, remember?”
Maybe he wasn’t as drunk as I’d thought he was because he remembered the terms of our agreement.
I nodded. “Okay. I’ll leave. But I know you’ll regret this when you sober up,” I said as I stepped outside his door.
“Don’t count on it,” he said and slammed the door in my face.
Thirty-Five
Griffin
“Get your fucking ass up. Now,” someone yelled as they kicked my bed.
I turned my head and opened one eye. “Blake?”
“No. The fucking tooth fairy. Yes, it’s Blake.”
I slowly sat up. “What are you doing here?”
“Dragging your drunk ass out of bed.”
“I’m not drunk.”
Blake sighed. “I’m not sure if that’s better or worse.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s five o’clock in the evening, and you’re still in bed.” He eyed me. “When’s the last time you drank?”
“Not since Madeline left.”
“You mean, not since you broke her heart and kicked her out.”
I winced. I felt bad about that, but things were better this way.
“So, you haven’t been drinking every night while your friends and family bust their asses, keeping your bar afloat?”
“What are you talking about?”
“While you’ve been neglecting your bar, the people who care about you have been making sure you don’t lose your business.”
I rubbed my forehead. “I had no idea.”
“And why would you? We haven’t seen you in weeks.”
I looked up. “Weeks? Madeline was just here a couple of days ago.”
Blake got down on his haunches. “Griffin, it’s been over a month since your dad died.”
I hung my head in shame. “But I haven’t gone grocery shopping or paid any bills.” I didn’t eat much, but I knew I had been eating every day.
“Your mom brings you food while you’re sleeping. Or passed out. And we’ve been paying your bills.”
I didn’t like his accusation that I had been passed out. “I told you that I haven’t been drinking.”
“Sleeping then. Whatever.” He shrugged. “Either way, something has to change.”