Page 55 of Run Home

“Sounds good to me,” Sam agrees, switching her phone to silent and setting it on the kitchen counter. A few minutes later, the sushi is ordered, and I set my phone next to hers. The sight catches me off guard—our two cell phones, sitting on the kitchen counter together. A glimpse of what everyday life looks like when you’ve found your person.

“Adrian?” Sam’s voice pulls my attention back to her.

“Yeah?”

A smile starts at one corner of her lips and slowly expands to a full grin. “I’m glad the entire world knows. Because I’m as happy as can be that this is happening.”

“We need to talk.”

I lose one of my nine lives when Griffin ambushes me. I’m walking through the hallway on the way to the Crowns locker room for warm-ups, and his booming voice catches me completely off guard.

“Where’d you come from?” I ask. “How’d you even get in here?”

Griffin rolls his eyes. “I played here longer than you have. I know people.”

He grabs my arm and pulls me into one of the empty training offices, closing the door behind us.

This feels uncomfortable.

“You need to pump the brakes with Sam,” Griffin commands.

My defenses spring to action. “What do you mean? Why?”

“I’m not saying kill the engine completely,” Griffin clarifies. “Pump the brakes. Slow things down. You’ve been together for less than two weeks and you’re already all over the internet. Posting that photo yesterday, bringing even more attention to your relationship. Intensifying everything. Pump. The. Brakes.”

Heat flares in my chest. “You were the one who was concerned I wasn’t taking this seriously.”

“I’m still—”

“I told you I’m serious about Sam.”

“I’m not—”

My Venezuelan accent thickens as I talk over Griffin, fighting to make my point. “This is me being serious. You were serious about Danae from the start. Just because you stayed out of the press for a couple of months doesn’t mean you weren’t serious. Why is it different for—”

I’m shocked when Griffin shoves my chest, kicking me back on my heels. He steps forward as he growls, “Would you shut up and listen for a second?”

Scowling, I shut up.

Griffin sighs, resting his hands on his hips. “I told you to be serious, but I also told you to take things slow. Sam . . . she . . .” Griffin runs a hand through his hair as he looks for the right words to say. “She’s always struggled in relationships.”

“I know. I’ve seen it.” My defenses start back up. “I can’t believe you’d equate me with a tool like Ryan or whoever—”

“Let me finish,” Griffin warns with a glare. Huffing, I snap my mouth shut so he’ll say whatever it is he needs to say. He continues, “I am not saying you’re the same as Ryan or the other guys she dated. I’m saying that Sam is still Sam. For as much as she’s grown these past few years, she can’t magically erase the effects of all the crap she’s been through.”

My defensiveness eases, concern for Sam effectively pricking a hole to let out the hot air. “What do you mean?” I ask.

Griffin closes his eyes, stretches his neck from side to side, shifts his weight from foot to foot. “I’m not going to tell you the full stories. It’s up to her to decide when she wants to share details. But Sam struggles to pace herself in relationships.”

He scratches his knuckles across his beard, clearly debating how much to say. He finally shakes his head. “You’ve seen some of Jason’s struggles. I’ve talked with you about how trauma affected the way his brain functions. Sam’s struggles don’t outwardly show the same way Jason’s do, but she has some of the same underlying issues. Stuff that made her brain see things and react in ways that she’s not always in control of.”

Griffin holds up both hands. “I’m not saying she hasn’t grown. Sam is probably the strongest person I know because she has done the work to understand her own mind. She’s fought to rewire the unhealthy patterns.”

He cuts off talking, and I’m surprised to see a sheen of moisture in his eyes. His voice is husky when he says, “But I don’t want to see her have to struggle so hard again. She needs you to do some of the heavy lifting, man.”

Leaning against the desk behind me, I grip the edge with both hands and stare down at my feet.

Have I already screwed this up? I don’t want to make things harder for Sam. Have I already hurt her unintentionally? But if she thinks I’m backing off, won’t that hurt her too?