Page 81 of Rival Hearts

“Yeah.” He climbed out and came around to slide his arm around me as we walked to the house. “Whatever you need.” He pressed a kiss to my temple, and I leaned into his side, wrapping my arms around his middle.

While he let out his dogs, I got undressed and slipped under the covers, trying to keep my mind from straying to thoughts of Dad. Each time my brain touched on him, my stomach rolled, and my chest tightened with the weight resting on top of it.

When Grady slid into bed behind me, he tugged me flush against his chest, fitting us together like two puzzle pieces. I wanted him to tell me everything would be okay. But I was sure that would be a lie, one he’d never tell. How could anything ever be okay again?

As I drifted to sleep, he kissed my neck and secured me more firmly. For the first time in hours, the thought which had plagued me for days resurfaced. My eyes popped open.

Grady planned to leave.

His breathing evened out, and I stared into the darkness, wondering how to prevent Grady from ripping what was left of my heart into a thousand pieces.

The next day tore through the fabric of my heart as I helped to pick out a coffin, chose a date for the funeral, decided which of Dad’s many suits best exemplified him, selected family photos for the digital tribute, and gave Emily and Tyler input for the eulogy. People had been everywhere paying their respects, giving condolences, and delivering food. Each act of kindness had threatened to suck my polite mask right off my face.

Every step was excruciating, exhausting, and at the back of my mind had been the realization that I couldn’t rely on Grady. If he was considering LA without talking to me, keeping that secret told me all I needed to know. He’d clearly had time before now to talk to me about it, and he’d chosen not to.

Rather than dwell on the awfulness of my father, I’d spent most of the day wrapped in thoughts of Grady and his imminent abandonment. Separately, the two events would’ve been overwhelming, but together I couldn’t process either one. Emotional overload had hit me hard.

By the time I got home at nine that night, I couldn’t call Grady. I didn’t have anything left to give him. A bit of distance was the best idea. I could ease out of whatever was happening, and maybe that would lessen the hurt—whenever I could feel something, anything, again.

He probably felt bad for me right now. He knew what it was like to lose a parent. I didn’t want him to stay in Little Falls out of a sense of obligation. When he texted to see if I was home, I couldn’t even open his message.

At ten, I was brushing my teeth for bed when my doorbell rang. Ginger skittered across the floor, startled by the sound. I usually laughed at Ginger’s foolish behavior, but there was no room for humor tonight. I laid my hand against the front door. Grady was the only person who’d come this late at night, but I was too afraid to look.

My vehicle was in the driveway. Maybe he’d think I was asleep if I didn’t answer?

“Come on, Maggie. I can feel you on the other side of the door. I know you’re there. Let me in.”

I jumped back, startled. “You canfeelme?” A frown settled between my brows as I opened the door.

“I’ve developed a Maggie sense. Well, I think that sense developed a long time ago. I’m just finally listening to whatever causes it.” He stepped past me into the house, carrying a take-out bag.

The smell of Thai food wafted in with him. There wasn’t a Thai restaurant in Little Falls. People drove to Utica. Grady had driven to Utica. “What’s that?”

“Thai from the restaurant you raved about the other night when we were talking about food and travel.” He unpacked the bag onto the kitchen table.

As the dishes came out, I read the labels in silence. He’d bought every dish I’d listed as a favorite. There was enough food to feed a small army. I would be eating it for weeks. I rubbed my face, my resolve wavering. Why did he have to be trying so hard at the wrong things? I couldn’t even articulate exactly what I needed, but it wasn’t this. It wasn’t any of this.

“I figured,” he said, moving around my kitchen with ease, “you probably had a shitty day and likely didn’t eat much. Maybe you don’t want this either, I don’t know. Worth a try. We can freeze some of it.” He put the two plates and cutlery on the table and glanced at me. “Are you—are you hungry?”

“How did you know I was home?”

“Emily.” He examined me from across the small table, neither of us sitting down. “I texted her when you didn’t respond. She said you were probably in the shower or something, and you’d all had a long day.”

I hadn’t told anyone I planned to let things end with Grady. Given what else was going on, they’d probably try to talk me out of my decision. But if he intended to leave, I might as well rip off this Band-Aid while the other wound was still bleeding. At the moment, I felt so unlike myself that I couldn’t imagine feeling worse. It couldn’t get any worse.

“Did you want to talk? Or just eat? Or go to bed? If you’re tired, I can put this in the fridge for tomorrow.”

“I can’t do this anymore.”

He took a step toward me and tried to draw me into a hug. I sidestepped him and went to the cupboard to take out a glass. My hand shook while I filled it at the tap.

“It’s not easy—”

“I don’t mean about my dad,” I said, closing my eyes, but I kept my back to him. “I mean us. I just—I don’t have the emotional energy to do this right now. I’m tapped out.”

“I’m not asking for anything from you. I know how hard it is to lose your dad. I want to help. I don’t want to make things harder.”

With a sigh, I straightened my shoulders and turned to face him. “LA is pretty far away to be helpful.”

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