I must have fallen asleep before I could cut and run, because I woke up with my back to Grimm and his arms were still holding me close.
His heat, his morning wood, his scent… all hugging me tightly. Pushing his arm off of me, I sat up in his bed with my jeans tossed to the end of the bed. I drew the conclusion I kicked them off uncomfortably while we slept.
Trying to wake myself up, I rubbed my eyes just as I heard a woman's voice say, “And who might you be?”
Peering between my fingers, I tried to be invisible, even though I knew whoever she was… was speaking to me.
“His assistant. I had to drive him home.”
I felt like a caught teenager. I felt scolded before she even said anything to me.
Standing up, her heels made a sharp sound against the hard floor, and I could feel her getting closer. “There are guest rooms, sweetheart. Perhaps utilize one of those next time you ‘drive my son home’.” Her fingers danced, making air quotes, and now I truly felt like a caught teenager.
Mentally praying for Grimm to wake up, he stirred like he heard me, after I managed to hit him under the covers. “What the fuck, Abigail?”
“Well… I’m gonna call an Uber downstairs while you two… talk.” I don’t know how anyone gracefully steals the sheet in movies and wraps it around them effortlessly. That wasn’t happening for me. Giving up, I grabbed the throw across the end of the bed and wrapped it around my waist before snatching my jeans.
“What are you talking about? Go back to sleep.”
Even his voice ached. I couldn’t imagine how his body felt. Takes a lot for a guy like Grimm to be taken down, and last night, he was making a lot of mistakes a sober him would wilt under.
“Why do I smell my mom’s perfume?” he said it to himself, muttering the words and rolling over to his back, eyes still closed. “Mother. Do you know how to knock?”
“Your father was worried. We never got an update on the meeting. I didn’t expect for you to have company, dear.”
As soon as I stood, Grimm’s voice echoed at my back: “Sit. My mother was just leaving.”
“Jason. That is no way to speak to your mother.” Her voice was so proper and polished I could hear syllables I hadn’t heard before. Every letter was equally enunciated.
“We’ve talked about this, mother. It’s called boundaries. Can she put on her damn pants without you looking at her?”
I felt caught between a battle, but if I was picking sides, then I was Team Grimm. His voice telling me to sit was still ringing in my ears. If you listened beyond the ringing, you could also hear the what the fuck on repeat.
Grimm’s mom was in his bedroom at the same time I was only embarrassingly bottomless besides some cotton panties.
I didn’t dare look in either of their directions when I heard her huff a disapproving sigh of giving up.
Holding the blanket tightly around my waist, I excused myself, “I’m gonna go get dressed. Give you guys a moment.” I’d never walked so quickly anywhere as I did out of that room, making sure to close the door almost all the way.
Dropping the blanket I gave the door some room so they didn’t think I was right outside the door listening, even though I was, original intention or not.
Grimm’s mom was strikingly beautiful with her pitch black hair set in soft 50’s Hollywood waves, her sleek designer look, and her mouth tight, like she had a lot she wanted to say but couldn’t. It made me respect her even more for not saying it.
There was no way to glamorize I was caught, red handed, without pants, in her son's bed. These guys were eligible bachelors, sure, if you could afford the steep price tag. Nothing was free in LA, and these four were probably one of the most expensive items in this city.
Listening carefully, I heard his mother whine, “What happened to Jessica? She’s a nice girl from a nice family...”
Grimm took his usual stance: non-engaging, like a professional.
She kept filling the quiet with more words, more whining, and more huffing. I’m sure Grimm wasn’t someone you could tell anything to. He was just as stubborn as I was; we were just fueled by different things. I was fueled by fear of the rules, and he was fueled by the need to break them.
It scared me hearing Grimm’s voice shake my stealth, even from this side of the door.
“I have a headache. Please be quieter if no one can force you to be silent.”
I went down the stairs with the blanket, feeling like he was going to make a break for it. I didn’t want to be caught listening. His mom was safe for backlash, but me? Different story.
He jogged down the wide stairs, passing me. I could see everything strained, and I couldn’t tell if it was simply just how bad he felt from last night’s festivities. Either way, I was stuck right here. I didn’t drive here, but if it meant paying for an Uber well over 50 bucks, I would, just to escape his mother on my heels.
Almost jogging too, I ran to Grimm’s side as he made coffee, like it would protect me. Pressing the pads of his fingers into his brows, he said, “I’m sorry. She’s ill-behaved. We’ll leave for work in a minute.”
You could call him whatever you wanted, intimidating or cruel, but the Grimm I knew was a kind of protective. Jus didn’t see.
It was only for me to see.
GRIMM
I dialed her number on my phone from the couch in my office. A headache was drilling its way down my spine from the base of my skull after the anonymous text showed up on my phone.
Blake Barnell
56 Ocean View Drive
Leave it to Zeus to peer pressure me into pouring alcohol on top of my medications. Now I was paying for it by my office blinds being closed, my arm over my eyes, and my phone in my hand to call my secretary, because I couldn’t be bothered to hear anything above a whisper.
I should have just stayed home and let Abigail take my car. It was the safe bet, but here I was close to dying on my couch.
We both know death only brings us to the edge. We never topple over.
The monster inside me went unmarred completely. His voice echoed in my head, and I silently begged him to stop talking at all when Abigail picked up on the other end.
“I need you to pick up my gun.”
Shuffling, the sound of her leather loafers against the hard wood and the door opening came next. “Seriously? I’m two feet away from you.”
Her entire outfit changed from being last night’s casual clothes that she was still in this morning when she woke up pressed up against me. Apparently she had prepared for everything, including a lunch-time stain, and had an extra white button-down waiting for her here at the office. She was still casual in her jeans, though, and I was still impressed.
“Shhh… you’re too loud, which is exactly why I called.”
I let my grip on my phone loosen, and it dropped to the area rug with a dense thud when she spoke again: “Maybe your hungover ass should have stayed home.” She spun around and still held the door open wide enough, before she added, “I’m not picking up your gun. Nice try.”
“Abigail...”
“Don’t you Abigail me. Not doing it. You agree to boundaries after that se—” Cutting herself off, thankfully she topped off her sentence with: “S&F”.