Page 10 of (Un)Rivaled

It only took a moment for everything to boot up, and the drive required an encryption code to access it.Tomas and his spy games. I guess I should be grateful. He was doing all of this to keep me safe, but it was hard to be thankful when I was memorizing fifteen different codes and pins a week.

As the data downloaded, I searched through each file, looking for anything familiar. Most of the pages were financial reports, ones I would really need to sit down and analyze to make sense of it all. But as I scrolled through a few more pages, a familiar name jumped out at me.

Saint Stephen’s Lake.

“What the hell?” I muttered, scanning through that section. It was just a quick mention of a project, but it was enough to pique my interest. “What are you doing at the lake?”

A group of interns walked by my office, and I slammed my laptop shut, not wanting to risk getting caught. But after I tucked everything away and moved back to my desk, the silence around me became overbearing. I couldn’t stop thinking about what the file said. Maybe it was nothing, but the idea of my investigation leading back to the lake made me want to crawl out of my skin.

Sitting wasn’t an option, not with all this excess, frantic energy coursing through my veins. As I stood, I moved over to the window, watching the city below me. It was a world away from the lake, where time seemed to move slower. Even though I’d lived here for the past five years, it felt like I was still getting used to the noise, still getting used to how you could barely see the stars. Just the thought made me miss Saint Stephen’s Lake. I hadn’t lived there for over a decade, but it was still the closest thing I had to a home.

“Get a grip,” I whispered to myself, rubbing my fingers along my brow. This nostalgia was nothing more than a knee-jerk reaction, residual emotion from my trip back to that fucking town. It always took me a few days to shake off the memories, to focus on the present, to forget about the past that haunted me so spectacularly.

And Gray.

It was always a kick in the stomach to see him, especially after a long span apart. Even though my head knew it was a mistake to give him an inch, my body always had other plans, wanting to be as close to him as humanly possible. And even though he graced my television screen often, seeing him in real life was a completely different story.

Being the sole focus of those steel eyes was like being pulled underwater, helpless to resist the call of the depths.

And that wasn’t to speak about the rest of him. The man had been finely honed through years of hard work, baseball consuming his entire world since we were in high school. His tall frame was packed with muscles, every inch of him a finely tuned machine. I knew how dedicated Gray was to his craft, spending as much time in the gym as he did on the baseball field.

My office phone blared on my desk, and I was grateful for the reprieve. I needed to get my thoughts as far awayfrom Gray as possible. But when I saw my boss’ assistant on the other side of the line, I internally swore. Lifting the phone, I rested it between my shoulder and ear. “Hey, Teresa.”

“Hey, Devyn. Mr. Turner would like to see you in his office.”

“I’m just working on the Masters brief right now. Can it wait?”

She sucked in a sharp breath. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. He was very insistent you get up here as soon as possible.”

That was her polite way of saying he was already in a foul mood and any stalling on my part would only poke the bear.

“Great,” I sighed. “I’ll be right up.”

As I hung up the phone, I reached into my desk, pulling out a pad of paper from the top drawer. As I rifled through my belongings, I couldn’t help but glance at the paper tucked inside the corner, taped so it would never shift and get tossed by accident. With one swipe of my finger along the strip of photos taken on a summer day so long ago, I straightened my back, hoping I could borrow a little strength from my past self.

FIVE

FOURTEEN YEARS OLD

“I can’t believe you don’t have to wear a uniform.”

I flicked my fingers along the hangers, trying to understand why Gray wanted to shop here. Usually, he was happy to wear whatever his mom grabbed from him, but over the summer, he’d declared it was time for a new look, trading in his flannel jackets and cargo pants for fitted shirts and jeans that clung to his legs.

So, here we were, spending the final days of our summer vacation at the outlet mall a few towns over. His mom was shopping down the block, so we’d been left to our own devices. The outlet mall was small, with no more than fifty stores crammed within a few-mile radius. Most were way out of our spending limit, but there were a couple that had what Gray was looking for. I didn’t need much, considering my new prep school had a strict dress code. In a couple of weeks, I’d be trading in my shorts for a blazer and plaid skirt.

Kill me now.

I found a black lace top and held it up to my chest as I looked into the floor-length mirror. My mom would neverlet me wear something like this. Even when I wasn’t at school, I had little control over my wardrobe. My mother hand-picked all our clothes, ensuring we all fit the mold our stepfather set for us. The three of us had specific roles to play. Laurel was the heir, being primed to take his place one day, I was the serious one, the future lawyer or state senator, and Calla was the precious little princess, being forced into frilly dresses that never suited my carefree sister.

So when Mrs. Anders dropped us at the front door and told us she would be back in a couple hours, I didn’t know what to do. Luckily, Gray was at my side, like he had been all summer.

“I don’t know,” Grayson called out from the dressing room. “We’re starting high school. Seems like a good time to change things up.” Rustling noises came from the room. I stiffened, trying not to picture what was happening behind the black, gauzy curtain. “Plus, a lot of the guys on the team have been ragging on me about my clothes. I don’t want to show up on the first day looking like a loser.”

“You’re not a loser,” I snapped defensively.

“I know, Devy,” Grayson said as he shoved the curtain to the side. I started to reply, but my words died on my tongue when he turned around to face the mirror.

Gone was the skinny boy I’d known my whole life. After a summer of playing baseball with the modified team, he’d grown into his body, new muscles emerging that had never been there before. My mouth dried up as I scanned his back. What the hell was going on? Was Gray…hot? I shook my head, trying to force the words out of my head.

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