Page 27 of (Un)Rivaled

Besides, my curiosity was piqued. You know that saying about the cat? That was me. I never met a mystery I didn’t want to solve. Maybe that was why I was so drawn to the law. Each case was a puzzle, and I was the one who had to connect all the pieces. Granted, most of the time, I was helping large corporations hold on to their sizable bank accounts, but it still soothed something inside me.

We drove past the Lost Tavern, and I couldn’t help but sigh, wishing we were heading there right now. I would have given anything for one of Curt’s burgers.

“You should go,” Gray said, as if he could read my thoughts. “They’d like to see you.”

“Not sure that’s true.”

There were a lot of things about being back in thistown that I hated, but seeing the disappointment in Marta and Curt’s eyes always cut like a knife. In reality, they were more my parents than my actual parents. With my dad dying when I was young and my mom being well, my mom, they’d taken me in and given me more love than I knew possible. Marta and Curt were the kind of warm, hearty people who took you under their wing and never let go.

Honestly, cutting ties with Gray hurt twice as much because it also meant cutting ties with them. I missed their easy smiles, comforting hugs, and whispers of “it’ll be alright.”

Gray shook his head. “They miss you, especially my mom. She never says it, but she always holds out hope you’ll come in with Calla.”

I rolled my lips, turning to look out the window. “It was hard, you know, to see them after everything. At first, because they tied me to you, and then…”

“You didn’t want to lie to them.”

I nodded. “I didn’t know if you told them about our situation or not. It was a gamble I wasn’t willing to take.”

As the restaurant faded into the background, I tried not to picture Marta with her bright smile and constant support. It would gut her to know I was staying in town and didn’t bother to come by. It had been far too long since I had walked through those doors, resorting to sneaking their food in to-go containers.

Like so many places in this town, that restaurant had formed me. It was my first job, hostess-ing on hot summer nights. I’d spend every extra moment behind the bar, learning how to mix drinks and fix the antique cash register. The walls were lined with pictures of me over the years, right alongside the rest of the family.

“I miss them too,” I whispered, more to myself than Gray.

“Do you?”

I wiped my head in Gray’s direction. “Of course I do. Don’t think any of this has been easy for me. When you tore us apart, I lost a lot more than you, so don’t sit there and judge me.”

“I deserve that,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean anything by it. It was just nice to hear.” He hit the blinker, turning off onto one of the smaller county roads. “I know you care about them. I’d never question that.”

We let the silence brew between us after that, only the quiet crooning on the radio filling the truck cab. I expected the space between us to feel tense and brittle. Chalk it up to my anger and the years of distance. But despite my best intentions, I found the same ease I always felt around Gray. It didn’t matter how many years passed between us; we always fell into the same routine. Maybe our bond was stronger than I thought, forged during our formative years through memories and mistakes.

Maybe it was even strong enough to survive the pain we’d caused each other.

We drove past an old shack on the corner of the road; the walls were painted a hideously bright shade of blue. I gasped when I saw it, putting my hands on the door and lifting it to get a better look. “Please tell me the Blue Cow is still open. I haven’t had ice cream in forever, and I still dream about their Key Lime Pie cup.”

“You got a few months until their doors open,” Gray chuckled.

“I’ll be here opening day. No matter where I’m living, I’m going to be the first in line.”

Gray shook his head. “Doubt you’d even remember how to get back here, city girl.”

“Please.” I rolled my eyes. “I walked here every day for almost ten years. It’s not a hard place to find.”

Gray just hummed, not saying anything else. With his focus on the road, I took a moment to study my husband—ugh, that word. It was the first time in a long time I got to openly admire him, taking in the changes over the past few years. He’d aged well, growing into his rugged good looks. Thank God he’d kept the beard, though I’d never tell him that. A couple of gray strands stuck out of his dark blond hair. Was it weird it made me proud I’d seen him at so many stages of his life? We’d gone through our childhood and the awkward teenage phase together, even though I’d say Gray got off much easier than I did in that area.

And now, here we were, stuck together in the town we’d both once called home. While no one would tell me why Gray moved back—they insisted it was his story to tell—it was clear something significant must have happened.

As I tried to picture what could have caused Gray to end his baseball career early, he turned down a dirt road, heading deeper into the mountains.

One of the things that made Saint Stephen’s so beautiful was its location in a deep valley in the heart of the Appalachian Mountains. While the town itself was relatively flat, once you left the central part, gorgeous peaks surrounded you. There were plenty of hiking trails with stunning vistas, but they were all closed for the winter months. As Gray drove us further into the woods, my heart started to race, unsure of where we were heading.

But there was no doubt in my mind Gray would keep us safe. I might not trust him with my heart, but with my safety? I’d put my faith in him every time. He’d proven timeand time again he’d rather risk himself than ever let anything harm me.

Eventually, he pulled onto a driveway, following it for almost a mile before a house came into view. Well, a cabin, really. It wasn’t much, blending in with the wilderness around it. The walls were made of thick logs stacked on top of each other, leading to a pitched roof. Tall, thin windows broke up the walls. They were lined with black metal borders, a sharp, modern contrast to the rustic ambiance of the rest of the place. A small front porch led up to what I assumed was the main door. The house was bare; no decorations or signage gave any clues as to why we were here.

The snow was a thick blanket up here, and the tires crunched as he pulled in front of the porch and shifted the truck into park. I studied the home through the window as Gray got out, walking around to my side and opening the door for me. But I remained in my seat, crossing my arms. “Whose house is this?”

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