The only thing more difficult than breaking up with Griff Cross after two years together was having to keep working alongside him—and living under the same roof. Thankfully, Sentinels Compound was a big place. Unfortunately, it wasn’t quite big enough.

It had been four months since the breakup, and Griff had gone out of his way to avoid you, only speaking when absolutely necessary. In that time, you and Grant had grown closer, developing a bond that extended beyond your past relationship with Griff .

Friday night was V.I.G.I.L. Night at Charlie’s Place, a local bar that had been around since Prohibition—something in New York almost as old as Grant and Griff. The whole team was there, drinking, playing pool, and letting off steam. Griff’s eyes stayed locked on you as you played pool with Grant. When Grant leaned over you, his hand resting just a little too low on your back, Griff stood abruptly, storming over to you, pushing Grant back, and pulling you aside.

“You and Grant are getting a little too close,” he muttered, his glare sharp.

"Not every guy is trying to make a move on me, alright?" You rolled your eyes.

"You’d be surprised," Griff shot back.

"You don’t get to tell me who I can and can’t be with anymore," you snapped.

"Are you?" His voice was low, serious.

"Oh my god!" You threw your hands up, exasperated. Then, after a deep breath, you turned back to him, stepping closer. "What if I am?"

Griff’s expression faltered, his jaw tightening.

"You heard me," you said, another slow step forward. "What if I am?"

His gaze dropped to the floor, his hands clenching at his sides.

"What, you don’t like that?" you pressed, voice quieter now. "You don’t like the thought of someone else touching me?"