Page 83 of Rival Hearts

He hung his head, and his hands went white from pressing into the granite countertop. He sighed and pushed away fromthe island. When his fingers brushed my jaw, the contact startled me, but then he pressed his lips to my temple, and I leaned toward him like a tree bent by the wind. I wanted to bend and bend and bend and never have to worry about standing upright alone again. But I didn’t know how to trust that he’d be there to hold me up.

In my ear, Grady whispered, “You’re my heart. You’re where I belong. I’m not giving up on you. But I’ll give you the space you want.”

Then he grabbed his coat and walked out the door. I followed him, torn between throwing open the door and begging him to come back and flicking the lock in place, guarding my tattered heart. I didn’t know what to believe, and I didn’t have the mental energy to figure it out. With a decisiveness I didn’t feel, I rotated the deadbolt. The familiar weight of loss stretched across my chest as the lock tumbled into place.

Chapter Thirty-One

Grady

The last two nights, I’d dreamed of her. They’d been so vivid, I’d woken up convinced she was somewhere in the house: the kitchen, the bathroom, outside with the dogs, anywhere but gone. After each dream, I’d lain in bed, staring into the darkness. Would this be my life now? Would she ever come around? Or would I stare into the darkness for years, like I had the first time? Except back then, hate had been the emotional fuel. I’d been restless and energized by my negative feelings, spurred on to new places and adventures, desperate to get her out of my system.

Now, the will to live was being sucked out. I had no desire to do anything but sleep, dream of her, fix what I’d broken. Love was a starving vampire.

My alarm buzzed beside me, and I rolled over to snooze my phone. The dogs stirred at the bottom of the stairs, their nails clipping against the wood floor. I had to go see Tyler to pick up the last of the costumes for tomorrow night. Trent, Lila, and I had convinced the Sullivans to turn over all the organizational things for the concert, and we’d made it clear no one expectedthem to show up on Saturday night. The funeral was Sunday. I remembered what a mess I’d been the night before my dad’s funeral. All my pent-up anger at the injustice of losing my dad so suddenly had begged for an outlet, and I’d done stupid, reckless things.

Yesterday, I’d given Maggie some space, sort of. I’d ordered more food and had it delivered to her house at dinner. I’d given Pete, her right-hand man from the mayor’s office, her favorite flowers and asked him to make sure she got them. Crowding her was a bad idea, but I had to do something to show her I cared, that even if some part of her wanted me gone, I wasn’t going quietly. She was hurting because of her father, because of me. I’d fucked up at the worst possible time, again.

After I’d showered and fed the dogs, I headed to my truck. In the cab, I closed my eyes, hands on the steering wheel. Just out of reach was the memory of Maggie sitting beside me the other night, and if I concentrated hard enough, she filled the space again. I should have said ‘no’ to the LA job. Or told her right away, gauged if she’d be able to do long-distance. ’Cause if she was out, so was I. I didn’t want any life without her.

On autopilot, I ended up at Tyler’s shop. Far too early for it to be open yet. I’d meant to go grocery shopping before coming here. From the parking lot, a crack of light shone out of the back room. When I tried the door, I found it unlocked.

“Hello?” I called into the stillness. Clothes racks lined almost every conceivable space, and the counter with the cash register sat over to his left. “Tyler?”

“Come on back.” Tyler’s voice drifted from the cracked door at the back.

I eased the door open. Tyler stood behind one of the worktables, pieces of a colorful costume all around him, a cloth tape measure over his shoulder, a needle with thread dangling in his hand.

“I’m running a bit behind. I can’t sleep, so I don’t know how far I’m behind, but I am. Sorry, man. Take a seat. This is the last one.”

“I’m early.” I scraped one of the chairs across the concrete floor and plopped into it. Sketches lined the back wall, and a rack of costumes was off to the side, ready to take to the theater.

“Not sure the time matters. I can’t focus.” He sighed and rubbed his face. “Can’t sleep. Can’t focus.”

“How is everyone else doing?” Her name hung in the room unsaid.

“Emily is doing okay. She doesn’t have much choice because of Amir, same with my mom. They’re both trying to be strong for him. My dad was—” Tyler’s voice hitched, and he rubbed his eyes with his fingers. “He was a good grandpa.”

“And you?” The pain of losing a parent was such a wall of grief. The week after my dad died, Trent and I had run wild. Looking back, we hadn’t made our mom’s life easy, our poor choices piled on top of her grief.

“I’m a fucking disaster pretending I’m doing okay. I can’t wrap my head around him being gone, and then when I do, the realization is crushing.” He shook his head.

“And Maggie?” I’d hoped Tyler would bring her up without prompting. No luck. My gut clenched, waiting for him to respond, to give me something. A breadcrumb.

“She asked me not to talk about her with, uh, anyone.” Tyler picked up two pieces of fabric and used pins to connect them.

He was a shitty liar. She’d probably mentioned me by name. “Right.”

“She’ll come around.” Tyler glanced at me before focusing on the cloth in front of him again.

“Will she?” I didn’t want to get my hopes up, but I was clinging to any shred of light in the darkness.

“I don’t think she wants to cut you out. She just doesn’t know how to let you in. Probably feels risky for her.” Tyler sighed and grabbed more fabric, piecing it together. “We’re all reeling, emotionally fragile.”

“I get the reeling. I just wish she’d let me be there.”

“You taking the LA job?” Tyler was focused on sewing pieces together.

“She told you about that?”

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