Page 16 of Rival Hearts

Lately, I’d been clearing my browser history more than normal. People had uploaded videos of Grady at the parade, and I’d watched them a few times for research purposes, of course. Understanding the appeal of the competition was critical to success.

Inevitably, videos fromCenter Stagewould be on the right, only one click away. I’d avoided watching them when he was onthe show, and muted or closed any posts about him on social media. But being prepared was important, and part of that was researching my opponent, right? How could I understand why people loved him if I’d never watched any of his performances? So, I let myself dip a toe into his history. One video.

I shook my head as I filled another prescription. When it was done, I opened the bottom drawer of the cabinet and dropped it into its alphabetized bucket.

It was never one video, though, was it?

The whole situation was oddly fascinating. Long before anyone else knew about Grady’s singing, I’d been privy to his secret. In his mother’s garage one day when I’d gone looking for Trent, I’d heard him. At the doorway, out of sight, I’d listened to him strum, sing, write, strum, sing, write for so long. I’d never have been able to explain if I’d been caught. For someone like me, who was more analytical than creative, the process had been enthralling, like watching a painter craft a masterpiece. Except it had been my ears, his voice, and the thought of his fingers dancing across the guitar strings that had made my heart beat erratically.

Then he’d gotten famous by writing the song about Trent and me. The creative process hadn’t seemed so spectacular after that. I’d spent many a drunken night during the end of my college days raging to Lila how I needed to call Grady and tell him the truth. Doing that would have broken the promise I’d made to Trent. And that wasn’t the type of person I wanted to be. A promise made was a promise kept. Thankfully, once Grady got famous enough, there wasn’t an easy way to reach him after I’d had five or six drinks too many.

When I’d woken up one morning to discover I’d posted a long ranting message on one of his fan pages, I’d been so disgusted I’d deleted the post and vowed to no longer drink. I’d broken thatvow the other night after seeing Grady, and I feared I’d break it again under the strain of having him back.

The bell above the door jingled, signaling someone had entered the pharmacy. I glanced up from filling another prescription to see Tyler, the wind whipping in behind him, causing some of the pamphlets at the front of the store to flutter. My pharmacy wasn’t huge, and the breeze whistled back to me as well. Focused on the rug at the door, Tyler ran a hand through his hair before looking up.

“We’ve got a problem,” Tyler said.

“Just give me a sec.” I set down the prescription I was working on, scribbling a reminder on a scrap of paper about where I’d been in my list of medications to fill.

When I looked up again, I noticed his designer jeans were soaked from the knees down. “If the water was any further up your pant leg, I’d say it was you with a problem. The adult diapers are over to the right.”

“Very funny.” Tyler didn’t laugh. “Burst water main at Canal and Elizabeth. People think the old train station might flood. Water is everywhere. We’ve called a crew to work on it, but it’s a mess.”

“Shit. Burst?” I whipped off my white coat and reached for my phone. Without pausing, I dialed my father to come oversee the pharmacy so I could handle the water crisis.

“It gets worse.”

I raised my eyebrows at Tyler as I waited for Dad to pick up. Tyler’d pulled a lollipop out of his pocket, his go-to in stressful situations.

“Grady is down there with Kelvin, ranting about the lack of spending on infrastructure and how the town is falling apart.”

With a sigh, I rolled my eyes. “What would he know about any of those words?” The desire to paint Grady as incompetent or less intelligent was hard to resist.

“He didn’tsayinfrastructure, but it was implied.”

My father’s smooth voice came through the phone, and before he could ask any questions, I said, “I need you at the pharmacy if you’re not busy.” My dad often looked after my business when I was called away by some town-wide crisis. “Bring your keys.”

“I’ll be there,” Jim said.

“Thanks, Dad. You’re the best.” Although I knew lots of townspeople missed him as their doctor, I was glad he’d retired early. He was a godsend in moments like this and during my weekly mayoral duties at city hall.

Jim chuckled in my ear. “I love you, kiddo. Go rescue the town.”

As soon as he hung up, I folded my white coat and left it on a chair behind the prescription desk. There were rubber boots in the back room from the last time a water main had burst. Not that long ago, but I couldn’t pinpoint the exact date.

“When was the last time this happened?” I yanked on the second boot and grabbed my keys off the desk.

“Mid-May. But that was only a substantial leak. Pete handled that easily. Shame he’s on vacation because this is worse. We’ve called the water management company. They’ve sent some people to assist us.”

“Great.” I opened the door and stepped out onto the tree-lined street in front of Tyler. I was going to miss Pete today. He kept me centered in a crisis like this with sound advice and quick action. “How did Grady catch wind of this?”

“He’s soaked. He was there when it exploded.”

“Oh.” I flipped the lock into place and imagined it for a moment. That must have been quite the scene. A smile, one I tried to stifle, played on my lips. “And Kelvin?”

“I’m guessing Grady called him, but they might have been together. The only one who was drenched was Grady. Good thing it’s a warm day.” Tyler gave me a wry smile.

“Who’s watching your store?”

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