Fangs, Fate & Other Bad Decisions novel Chapter 45

Chapter 45

I can’t fucking sleep.

And believe me, I’ve tried.

1 lie there, staring at the ceiling, the shadows shifting as the city lights bleed through the floor–to–ceiling windows into my bedroom.

Every time I close my eyes, I see her. Laughing on the mini–golf course, teasing me over pasta and wine, sleeping in my arms at the drive–in, her breath brushing my throat like a whispered promise.

My body feels wrong. It’s too restless for sleep, but too heavy for movement either.

Getting up, I head to my home office and try working to see if that might help. I open my laptop and stare at the flood of emails, memos, and projected quarterly earnings. But the words blur together into meaningless shapes, so I slam the lid shut after exactly six minutes.

Finally, just after two in the morning, I put on a black t–shirt and joggers and head to my private gym. Maybe if I beat the living shit out of a punching bag, again, Til bleed this restlessness out of me.

Half an hour later, the punching bag’s leather is split open.

en, and its sand pours out onto my gym floor in a steady stream. I’m dripping sweat, It hasn’t helped–not even a little.

but

When I head back to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the fridge, Griffin is waiting there, leaning casually against the marble island like he owns the place.

1 raise an eyebrow at him. “Something wrong?”

He shrugs, far too comfortable for someone who should know better. I couldn’t sleep. So I thought you might want a nightcap.”

I don’t bother telling him that vampires don’t exactly drink to get drunk. He knows that already.

Ley from the cabinet

Instead, I grunt and pull a bottle of whiskey

Griffin watches me pour two fingers into each crystal glass and says, far too innocently, ‘Rough weekend, boss?” as he takes his.

I don’t answer, only lifting my own glass to my lips.

He smiles, just a little–that infuriating, all–knowing, I’m–pushing you–because–1–care smile of his.

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I mean…” he continues innocently, swirling his almost empty glass like he’s thinking real hard, “Someone was in an uncommonly good mood last night at the drive–in. Even Mike noticed.”

I narrow my eyes at him, contemplating his and Mike’s deaths.

Griffin just hums under his breath, purposefully ignoring my glare. “This someone, apparently, was laughing and smiling. Almost like they were human.”

He draws out the last word like a dare.

My grip lightens around the glass just a fraction. But it’s enough for a faint hairline crack to form along the side.

Instead, he lifty both hands in mock surrender and says lightly, “Don’t worry, Boss. I’ll update the staff handbook to read Warning: Boss may

ccasionally display signs of……emotional growth. Please remain calm and do not attempt to make direct eye contact.”

I slowly and methodically set the cracked glass down before I shatter it in my grasp completely. And then I glare at hins again. Hard,

He grins, knowing he won this round. Then, with a casual nod, he pushes off the counter and says, “Goodnight, sir.”

As he disappears down the hallway towards the elevator doors, I mutter under my breath, “You’re tired.”

Without missing a beat, he calls over his shoulder, “Love you too, boss.”

And for some godforsaken reason, the corner of my mouth twitches. It’s not a real smile, not quite, But it’s close enough to make me want to punch a hole through my own fucking wall.

1 stand there, alone in the kitchen, for a long time after he’s gone. Long enough for the whiskey to lose its edge and the shadows around me to thicken. Long enough to admit to myself, quietly and bitterly, that Griffin isn’t wrong.

I got exactly one hour of sleep, if you can even call it that. It was more like blinking slowly into the darkness, my mind refusing to give me peace even when my body demanded it.

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