Page 89 of Griffin
“He looks like you.” She smiles sadly, looking at me, and my shoulders lower. The stress and heartache I usually feel when thinking about them dissipates the slightest bit, sharing this with her.
“I used to call him a vampire because of his teeth…” I shake my head, the images of us running around as kids vivid in my mind.
“You have the same eyes.” She looks back at me, then the photo and back again. “We should frame it. Display it here somewhere?”
My heart thuds a little heavier. Could I do that? Could I look at my brother every day and see the love for him and not the self-loathing I usually feel?
“This is the only other thing I have from my childhood.” I pull out the green army man, and her smile widens.
“Oh, I’ve seen these before…” She looks at it in wonder. I guess these kinds of toys are a little vintage. Probably not something she played with as a kid. “You taking a trip down memory lane?” She passes the toy back to me, and I blow out a breath, putting the things back.
“My father was released from jail recently.” I’ve been needing to tell her. Needing to tell her everything. I didn’t plan for it to be right now, like this.
“Oh?” Her eyes widen.
“He was incarcerated for twenty-five years. I haven’t seen or spoken to him since that night he killed my family.”
She steps forward, and I lean back in my chair, lifting my arms, wanting her close. I feel immediately at ease when she sits on my lap, and I wrap my arms around her.
“That must feel… Well, I don’t know what that would feel like. How do you feel about that?”
“Angry,” I say without hesitation. “A little melancholy… but mainly angry.”
“That’s understandable.” She nods, not jumping from me. Not looking at me any differently.
“He called me.”
I feel her body tense a little in my grip, and I rub my hand up and down her back instinctively.
“And what did he say?”
“He didn’t get a chance to say anything, really. I told him not to call me. I’ve had Sawyer relay a message to his parole officer that I want nothing to do with him. He’s dead to me.”
Again, she nods slowly, taking in all the information so I continue.
“I don’t want him here. I don’t want him near me, near you, near Tommy…” I have to take a calming breath to try to regroup.
She cups my cheek. “Okay… whatever you want. I’ll support whatever you need.”
Fuck. I told her my deadbeat murderer of a father wants back in my life and half expected her to leave, grab Tommy, and rush out the door. But instead, she leans into my hold, giving me her support, her touch soft and sensitive. I don’t deserve her. Not in the slightest.
“Have you talked to anyone? Looked into therapy or anything like that?”
I shake my head. “That’s not really for me. But I’ve spoken in depth to Sawyer, and I feel lighter for talking to you. Now you know all my skeletons… There’s nothing else about me that you need to know.” I nod, a heavy sigh leaving me, liking the fact that there are no secrets.
“Thank you for sharing…” She presses a kiss to my head.
“I want us to be honest with each other. I want you to know everything about me and me about you.”
“Well… since we’re airing our skeletons…”
“What?” I ask too quickly, wondering what I don’t know.
She blows out a breath, long and slow.
“Savannah isn’t my real name. I mean, it is, but it’s my middle name, not my first name.”
I frown. “What’s your name?”
