Page 39 of (Un)Rivaled

We moved into the living room and scrolled through one of his streaming apps on the TV. Outside, the world had gone dark, and it was impossible to see past the porch. But even with the hours ticking by, neither of us attempted to move.

“I’m the liar?” Gray squawked, turning around to face me fully. “You made me watch Legally Blonde every single day that summer. I was half-convinced you only became a lawyer to re-enact that courtroom scene.”

“If only,” I muttered under my breath. “But it’s not likeI wanted to be Elle Woods; I just liked her confidence. She knew what she wanted and didn’t let anyone else define her worth.”

Gray’s smile faltered for a moment, and I thought I said too much. I didn’t want to break this moment between us; I needed this levity more than anything. After everything with my job, my stepfather, and uprooting my entire life, an evening of laughing and reminiscing was perfect.

Gray must have been able to read that on my face, because he nodded and took a pull from his beer. “Makes sense. Plus, no offense, Devy, but if you showed up in an all-pink outfit, I would have thought you were trying to send out a distress signal.”

“You saying I can’t rock an all-pink outfit?”

Gray mock glared at me. “You know I’m not. You could wear anything and still be a total fucking knock-out.”

My throat dried up at his words, not sure how long I’d waited to hear something like that from him. When we were growing up, Gray was never short on compliments, but I took them for granted. I assumed they’d always be there, that I would always hear his words. And while other people I’d dated had dished out compliments, it wasn’t the same as hearing them from Gray. His deep voice was like hot tea on a cold winter night, making me feel cozy and warm.

It made my heart ache, wishing we could go back in time. What would our lives have been like if we had never fallen apart? If we hadn’t let distance ruin what we once had? Would we still be here, two people tied together by an accidental marriage? Or would we be here by choice, meaning the words we’d drunkenly mumbled all those years ago?

“Hey,” Gray said, scooting on the couch to get closer to me. “Where did you go?”

“Nowhere,” I said, swallowing to hide the catch in my throat. “Just trying to remember all of your embarrassing secrets.”

Gray relaxed and leaned back against the couch. “Don’t have any.”

“The time you bleached your hair?”

He shook his head and laughed. “You dared me to do it.”

“I didn’t think you actually would!”

“It was worth it to see the look on your face,” he chuckled. “Besides, nothing was as bad as when you tried to dye your hair black.”

My face paled as I remembered the horrible orange tone that replaced it once the black dye washed out. That was the first and last time I tried to dye my hair by myself. “That was a terrible decision.”

“Eh.” Gray shrugged. “I kinda liked it. But it reminded me a little too much of Laurel.”

I shook my head, realizing he was right. My older sister started dying her hair dark back in high school, probably to stand out from Calla and me. While my baby sister had auburn hair like our mother, Laurel and I shared my dad’s dark blonde. But while she’d covered it up and never looked back, I’d gone the opposite route and started bleaching my hair to make the blonde even brighter.

Silence fell between us, but neither of us rushed to fill it. Gray continued flicking through the different apps, eventually stopping on a highlight reel from the last baseball season. Sneaking a peek out of the corner of my eye, I watched as his face fell. After a couple of minutes, I couldn’t help but ask, “Do you miss it?”

“Every day,” he answered. “The game, not everything around it. I miss the weight of a ball in my glove, thatmoment when you knew the batter was going to strike out. I miss that. Mostly, I miss playing a game for the sake of it, not for the money or the contract.”

“You could still play if you wanted,” I offered.

Gray shook his head. “Nah, it’s not in the cards anymore. I’m good with my choice. I don’t regret walking away when I did.”

I shifted on the couch, curling my legs up underneath me. Turning to face Gray, I asked. “Why did you walk away?”

His expression shuttered, and my heart sank. For a moment, I thought he wouldn’t answer, or worse: shut me out like I’d done to him too many times. But Gray dropped his head back on the couch. “My dad’s sick.” He ran his hand over his face, as if willing the words to come. “Alzheimer’s.”

“What?” I said as I brought my hand to my mouth. “But he’s too young–”

“Early on-set,” Gray sighed. “Came out of nowhere. As far as we know, he doesn’t have any history of it in his family, so it was just an unlucky hand.”

“Shit,” I whispered, covering my face with my hand. I knew something was going on with Gray. My sister had alluded to there being a bigger reason he’d come home after so many years away, but I’d assumed it was something about his contract, maybe his former team. His dad was sick… My stomach soured with the thought. “How is he?”

“Depends on the day.” Gray leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He toyed with the edges of his beer label, no longer looking at me. “Can we talk about something else? Not trying to be a dick, but this is the first night in a while when I’ve forgotten about everything goingon at home.”

“And you want to hold on to it a little longer?”

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