Page 40 of (Un)Rivaled

He nodded. “Just…play pretend with me for a few more hours, Devyn. Please.”

He had to know I was helpless to resist him when he asked like that. That moment drew me back into the past, and I was looking at my best friend when he needed me the most. Maybe if we were playing pretend, I could extend that to the rift between us. We could ignore the distance and pretend it was just another night, two best friends watching a movie like we used to do all the time.

I grabbed the remote from his hand, putting on a movie we used to love. “Yeah, Gray. Let’s pretend.”

TWENTY

As the credits rolled on our third movie of the night, I looked at Gray. His eyes were closed, but he was smiling peacefully in his sleep. He looked younger—like he did before the weight of the world had fallen on his shoulders.

I rubbed my fingers over my eyes, trying not to think too hard about what Gray had confided in me. Curt had Alzheimer’s. The words sank in, and it took everything to keep from crying. Curt had practically been my second father, stepping up after my own had passed away. He was my dad’s best friend, and Curt loved to tell me stories about him. He’d taught me how to drive, comforted me when my mother married David despite our concerns.

And now, when he needed me the most, there was nothing I could do to save him. No money and no amount of knowledge could stop the inevitable, and that was a bitter pill to swallow.

Almost as bitter as the realization I had wasted years with him because I was angry with Gray.

Shaking my head, I lifted myself off the couch, grabbing my wine glass to bring it to the sink. I also took Gray’sempty water glass; he’d stopped drinking hours earlier because he needed to drive back home.

As I placed the glasses on the dish rack, Gray groaned painfully in his sleep. Before I even realized what was happening, I rushed back to his side. His peaceful expression was long gone, replaced by a furrowed brow and some light perspiration on his forehead. I took one of his hands in mine and placed the other on his cheek.

Shit, what were you supposed to do during a nightmare? You couldn’t wake people up if they were sleepwalking, but was it the same if they were having a bad dream? I wasn’t risking it. Instead, I just stayed at Gray’s side, holding his hand a little tighter each time he mumbled under his breath.

After a few minutes, Gray suddenly shot up, taking my hand with him. I almost stumbled off the couch, but Gray reached out to steady me, holding me closer than before—closer than I’d been in a long time.

“Devyn?” he asked, his chest heaving with exertion.

“You fell asleep,” I said quickly, hoping it would explain my closer proximity. “I think you were having a bad dream, but I didn’t know if I should wake you up.”

I glanced down at our joined hands, and Gray released me, moving back to his end of the couch. Rubbing his hands over his eyes, he stared off into the distance. “Sorry if I scared you. I’ve been having nasty dreams since my dad got diagnosed.”

“I’m so sorry, Gray.”

“Don’t be.” He shifted back toward me. “Thanks for being here.”

“Always,” I said, not realizing what had slipped out before I said it.

Gray’s eyes flared to life at the simple term, the one that always meant more between us than any other promises.The word was our bond, but neither of us had said it in years. He swallowed slowly, and I couldn’t help but watch the muscles in his throat move.

He reached out, placing his hand on top of mine. The tattoos covering his forearms stuck out from underneath his sleeves, and I glanced down at them. I’d seen some of his artwork over the years, usually only peeking out of his uniform. The hint of the designs made my mouth dry up, wondering where and how far they traveled. I wanted to trace them with my fingertips, wanted to know why he’d chosen each one.

As I studied his forearms, Gray reached up, placing his hand on my cheek. The first stroke of his thumb against my skin was like a lightning bolt through my chest, bringing me back to life after years of going through the motions.

“Devyn…” he whispered as his eyes dipped down to my lips.

All I wanted was to feel his mouth on mine, to seal this moment with a promise for more. I craved his hands on me, needing to know what it was like when we came together. He was so close. All it would take was one move, and I would finally remember how his kiss tasted.

But my bruised heart wouldn’t let me.

I jumped back, needing as much space as possible. This wasn’t just anybody —it was Gray. My former best friend, my “landlord,” and my husband. If we were to cross that line, it would mean something, at least to me. Maybe Gray could hold that line between physical and emotional, but there was no way I could. There was too much history between us for it to be casual.

I stood up, darting over to the kitchen. As I went, I called out over my shoulder, “You should probably get going. It’s getting late, and you’re already tired.” I grabbeda coffee pod from the cabinet. “Do you want me to make?—”

My words cut off when Gray’s hands found my waist, keeping me trapped between him and the counter. His chest was against my back, and I could feel his heart pounding almost as hard as mine. “Why’d you run from me, Ace?” he whispered in my ear.

I shook my head. “I didn’t.”

“What have I told you about that?” I could feel his hands tighten against my skin. “Don’t lie to me, Devyn. Even if it hurts, I want your truth.”

I sighed, forcing myself to breathe. It was hard when he was this close—when his hands were on me. Being around Gray was already a struggle, and it was getting harder to remember why I was so upset with him. All I wanted was to move his hands between my legs, to show him why I was internally panicking.

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