Bound to Submit

He grasped her hand. “I don’t have to if it would make you uncomfortable, Kenna. I’d just like to support you.”

When he put it like that... “Okay. I’d like that,” she said, and it was true even though it made her more nervous than she usually was. “I’ll call and let them know I’m bringing someone.”

“Good,” he said.

Hours later, Kenna approached the podium at the fancy dinner with Griffin’s whispered encouragement ringing in her ears. Go kick some ass, little one.

And she felt like she could. Griffin believing in her made it easier to believe in herself. But it was a funny thing, the way her mind wanted to twist all those good feelings. Because the better she felt—the less like a fraud as she stood in front of this roomful of men and women who’d been wounded during their service, just like her—the guiltier she felt that George couldn’t experience this, too.

It was so damn unfair.

For all of them.

Kenna was so angry at herself for not being able to let it all go.

Afterward, Griffin waited patiently as a stream of people wanted to meet her and congratulate her and swap service stories and compare prosthetics. He stood back, just watching, pride shining out of his eyes and making her feel so loved, so accepted, so good about herself—for once.

Finally, the crowd dispersed, and Kenna thanked the organizers for inviting her.

“You were fantastic, Kenna,” the Director said. “You just nailed the issues veterans are facing and spoke from such a place of experience and authenticity.”

“Thank you,” she said. “There are too many veterans facing tough issues these days and not enough resources. If my speaking out about that helps, it’s the least I can do. And an honor.”

The man nodded. His name was Craig Alverado, and Kenna had met him at several events like this over the past two years, though they hadn’t really spoken enough for her to think of him as more than an acquaintance. And maybe that was why his next words surprised her so much. “If you think you ever want to do more, let me know. We could use someone like you.”

Kenna nearly did a double take. “How so?”

“We have an Assistant Director position open right now in the association. Focus would be on veteran outreach and advocacy. Job description’s on the website. You should take a look.” He handed her his card. “If you decide you’re interested, let me know.”

They said good night, and they all walked out together, Griffin’s hand on the small of her back. And she needed that contact, because she felt like she might float away.

“Did that just happen?” she asked.

“You mean, did you just get a job offer after giving an amazing speech and holding a room full of your peers enthralled? Yeah, that definitely happened, baby.” He leaned against the side of his car and pulled her to stand between his legs. “And I’m so fucking proud of you I could burst.”

Kenna stared at him for a long moment. He looked so incredibly gorgeous in the suit he’d worn that part of her wanted to tear it off of him right then and there. But first she had to find some oxygen again. She leaned her head against his chest and tried to breathe. “Everything’s happening so fast.”

Griffin’s big hands rubbed her back. “No, it’s not. Just feels that way because you’ve been in one place for so long. But now you’re getting stronger, and you’re moving on, and that’s okay, Kenna.” He lifted her chin so that their eyes met. “It’s okay to feel better and to move on.”

She gave a fast nod. “Thank you. I’m glad you were here tonight.”

And she was equally glad to introduce Griffin to her sister the next night. They met at a little Tex-Mex place in Hampden, a quirky neighborhood full of used bookstores, antique shops, and fantastic restaurants.

Her belly gave a little flutter as Kenna led Griffin into the place, but she wasn’t worried. Not really. She knew her sister’s acceptance of her lifestyle was genuine, and that both of them were equally eager to meet the other. They found Sierra waiting at the bar.

“Hey, Si.”