Breaking The Rules: Book 2

Chapter 26: Pain, Suffering, & Cop Cars

𝚃𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝙰𝚞𝚐𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝟿𝚝𝚑
Parker POV

I can't say that I was shocked to hear that Griffin beat someone up at the hospital.

This isn't the first time that uncle Greyson has gotten calls like this. In fact, it's almost eerie how predictable his responses are at this point.

We were out at the football field practicing my left arm throw when his phone rang. He took the phone out of his pocket, raised an eyebrow, gave me the one second finger and answered it.

Then, he went through the usual, Hello? Seriously? How bad is it? Will she be okay? Is he still there? Yes, I can come now. See you soon.

I've heard that conversation on five different occasions in my life. That's only counting the times that I'm not there watching Griffin absolutely lose his shit on some sorry sucker.

I know Greyson is sick of it, too, because when he hung up he scoffed and said, "Fucking kid just can't control himself, can he?"

It seemed like a hypothetical question, so I kept my mouth shut and helped him clean up the mess we made on the field. He went on to mention that Griffin clocked a nurse in the face during his checkup appointment and that he would need to be dealt with immediately. I probably could've left our conversation at that point, but considering the way Greysons hands were shaking with restrained anger, I had a gut feeling that I should be there for my cousin.

There's actually a lot of things about Greyson that have gotten predictable over the years, and considering the way he was talking about his son and the heat rolling off of him, I knew that they had recently gotten into a fight. This inconvenience was the cherry on top. If I wouldn't be there as a buffer for Griffin, there's no telling how Greyson would blow up on him.

That's why I helped Greyson load up the equipment in his truck, jumped in my car, and followed him over to the hospital.

I tap my fingers on the wheel as we drive down the street. I can't lie, either: I'm curious to see what Griffin did. His technique is always different and I think it's interesting to find out what circumstances make him slip his leash. Especially when he's feeling as shitty as he's been saying. I didn't think he'd have the energy to wail on someone for another nine months, minimum.

The feeling of curiosity immediately melts away as I turn my car into the hospital parking lot.

Fear takes over, instead.

Three cop cars are parked near the front doors, and two of them still have their lights flashing. Red and blue colors reflect off of the glass and illuminate the workers that are crowded on the sidewalk.

"Jesus, Griffin," I mumble under my breath as I swing into the nearest empty parking spot. "What did you do this time?"

He's done a lot of stupid shit, pissed off quite a few parents, and gained many crowds of teenage kids itching to watch a fight, but I've never seen the police get involved.

By the time I get halfway out of my car, Greyson is already weaving his way around the police cars, his chin held up high and shoulders rolled back. His face is hidden but I can assume that he put on his I'm-the-teacher-in-charge-here front. He holds himself the same way when he walks onto the football field for games and when he's walking into a conference room full of important people.