Page 76 of (Un)Rivaled

As they parted, I walked forward and hugged my mother. “You’re doing everything you can for him, but there’s no shame in asking for help.”

She smiled softly at me. “Maybe not, but I’m having a hard time accepting it anyway.”

As she pulled away and continued her fussing, guilt washed over me. I was supposed to be here for them every day, yet I’d picked my own happiness over their needs. I could never regret the time I spent with Devyn, but the realization I’d abandoned my parents during the worst period of their lives made me sick. As far back as I could remember, my parents were my fiercest advocates, the loudest ones in the stands at every game. They never hesitated to support me, even when my dreams took me so far from home.

As my thoughts started to darken, my mother took my hand. “Don’t do that, Gray. You’ve been here every single day. That is enough. You are doing more than enough.”

“Is it, though?” I asked quietly. Shaking my head, I started walking toward the door. “I’ll go make sure everything is set downstairs.”

“Oh no, you don’t,” my father said, standing up to face me. Even with age, my father’s height rivaled mine. His stature was always imposing, but once you got to know the man underneath, that all faded away. “I know things havebeen hard, but you need to know something, Gray. Neither of us ever wanted you to give up your life, not for us.”

I shook my head. “But you need me?—”

My father moved to my side and placed his hand on my shoulder. “All we’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy. For so long, I’ve watched you going through the motions, enjoying the game but not everything outside of it.” He smiled at me. “And I know my mind’s not what it used to be, but I’ve seen a change in you now that Devyn’s come home.” I swallowed as he continued. “She makes you happy, doesn’t she?”

I nodded. “More than I ever thought possible.”

“Then keep fighting for her, Gray,” my dad insisted. “Fight for a life with the woman you love. We appreciate your sacrifice more than we can ever put into words. And maybe there was a reason all this happened the way it did, but now that you have Devyn back in your life—live. Don’t waste a single moment of the time you’ve got together.”

FORTY-TWO

As I sat against my car, staring out across the cemetery, I waited for the urge to run to overtake me. For so long, I’d avoided this place, wanting to erase my last memories of it from my mind—memories of standing next to my mother, watching as they poured dirt over my father’s coffin. I was too young to grasp he was gone, at least until I watched them lower his coffin into the ground. It was so final, so heartbreaking. To know my father, who was so full of life, was suddenly nothing more than a memory gutted me to my core.

For the last fifteen years, I’d avoided his final resting place. Not only because it was too hard to come back here, but because the whole idea of visiting cemeteries never made sense to me. It might have been where his body was buried, but he didn’t reside there, not anymore.

But in talking to Marta about learning to let go of the past, I realized I’d never allowed myself to really grieve for the man I’d lost. For too long, when asked about my dad, I’d put on a placating smile and avoided the subject, not wanting to expose any of that lingering hurt. But that painreminded me of how much I had loved him, how much I missed having him in my life. It was almost therapeutic. The scars that lived within us could never really heal if we left them for too long.

Once I started walking, it wasn’t hard to find his marker. Even though it had been years since the funeral, the path was ingrained in my mind. But now that I wasn’t weighed down with grief, I took in more of the surroundings, loving where my mother had chosen his final resting place. The last dredges of winter were starting to let go, allowing the world around us to fade from white and gray to a timid shade of green, almost as if spring wasn’t sure if it was time just yet. Tiny buds lined the tree limbs, and birds called out to each other. It was peaceful, almost calm.

My dad always loved nature and everything the Earth had to offer. On days like this, when the sun wanted to peek out over the clouds, he’d go down to the main deck of the Isadora with one of his many books, enjoying the fresh air as he read.

After walking up to his headstone, I dusted the last layer of snow from the top. It looked different from the last time I’d been here; signs of age and wear started to show on the polished marble stone. I took off my scarf and wiped down the front, reading the inscription as I went.

Peter Winters. Devoted husband and father. Taken from us too soon.

My fingers traced each letter as my eyes started to water.God, when did this crying thing start?It felt like my tears were always waiting in the wings now. When I was satisfied his grave was clear of debris, I leaned back and sat on the patch of grass, using my jacket as a buffer from the icy ground.

“Hey, Dad.” I pressed my hand on the ground in frontof me. “Sorry it took me so long to come. Honestly, this still feels so weird to me.”

I sighed and sat back, staring up at the sky. “But I’ve spent so much of my life feeling lost. For the longest time, I thought it was because of Gray. Don’t get me wrong—that threw me off kilter, but I’m starting to see that maybe it started when we lost you.”

I chuckled and ran my hand over my face. “God, that sounds so weird. Welostyou, like you could somehow be found.” I swallowed. “Because you really, you were taken from us.Stolen. Even if David wasn’t involved, something happened that night. I keep looking into your death with Laurel, and the more I do…” My voice trailed off as another group passed, bringing flowers to their loved ones. “Remember when you used to read me fairytales, but you’d twist the endings? You’d ask me who the real villain was, and I had to guess.” I smiled to myself. “And I’d get so mad because that wasn’t how the story was supposed to go.”

A memory ripped through me as my voice trailed off. It was one I’d pushed into the back of my mind, forgotten in my haze of grief and loss. About a month before he passed, my father arranged a camping trip just for him and his girls. While my mother stayed at the Isadora, he took us further into the mountains and taught us how to set up a tent and start a fire.

Laurel and Calla fell asleep first, leaving my dad and me alone around the fire as the stars lit up the sky. While I rested in his lap, he read me another fairytale, changing up the story like he always did.

“Why do you keep doing that?” I sighed as I rested my head against his chest. “When Mom reads it to me, she just says the words.”

“Ah,” my dad chuckled. “But where’s the fun in that?”

“It’s what you’resupposedto do.”

My dad closed the book and shifted so he was facing me. “Maybe you’re right, Devyn. But there’s also a lesson I want you to take away from these stories.”

“That the story can change?”

He chuckled. “That’s part of it. Sure, in stories, we always know the ending. The villain is exactly who you think it will be. But life doesn’t work that way.” He brushed some of my hair behind my ear. “One day, hopefully a long, long time from now, you’re going to learn that lesson. People can hide the worst intentions behind beautiful words and actions.” He stared down at me. “What I want you to learn, my brilliant girl, is how to see through the smoke and mirrors. That no matter what happens, you have the strength to overcome even life’s hardest lessons.”

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