Page 87 of Rival Hearts

“He wants to make things right. I believe that.”

“How do you know, though? We were together, like, together-together, and he didn’t tell me about LA. If I was him, if I was in his shoes, I’d only keep news like that a secret if I didn’t want the other person to be a factor. If I was only worried about doing what was best for me.”

“I get that. Grady’s a fucking idiot because I’m positive that’snotwhat he intended when he didn’t tell you.”

“I just… I don’t have the emotional bandwidth to sort out what’s real and what’s not real. I don’t know how to do that right now when I feel this lost.”

“But you love him?”

“I don’t know.” But I did. I knew I did. Admitting that felt like another slice across my emotions, and I was barely keeping a lid on what was bubbling under the surface. “I can’t go there right now.”

“I think the two of you have been in love with each other for years.”

“Sometimes love isn’t enough.”

Trent moved from his chair to lift my legs and sat on the couch, setting my legs on his lap. He grabbed the remote off the armrest, and he flicked on the streaming service I paid for, searching through all my recommendations. Ginger jumpedonto my legs and stretched along Trent’s chest, kneading his shirt, practically begging for attention.

“Your taste in TV is shit,” he said, scrolling with one hand while stroking Ginger with the other.

“You’re not going to try to talk me around?” I asked, my voice small.

“I tried,” he said with a shrug. “I told Grady I wouldn’t even try, but I think you need him right now, even if you don’t want to need him, even if you don’t quite trust him. Sometimes,” he said, trying to catch my gaze, “the only way you know if you can trust someone is to give them that trust and just hope they keep earning it.”

“I don’t know when I’ll feel ready to do that,” I admitted.

“What you need right now is comfort and certainty,” Trent said with conviction. “Mean Girlsit is.”

“That’s going to give me comfort and certainty?”

“You know the outcome. That’s certainty. And Rachel McAdams is still hot, even after all these years. That’s comfort.”

“Comfort for who?” I asked, but I could feel the hint of a smile rising for the first time in days.

Trent didn’t respond, he just patted my legs and pressed Play. I turned onto my side, trying not to let the numbness envelop me quite so completely this time.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Grady

Saturday night the concert hall buzzed. The heavy red curtains were drawn, and it was thirty minutes to showtime. The ornate gold-and-red décor of the Stanley was too regal for tonight’s performances even if Trent insisted on calling the strip show classy. How many classy strip bars had Trent frequented over the years to be so sure the two places had even a passing resemblance?

With the clock ticking, I rushed around with a clipboard, trying to get a handle on who was performing and when. Emily had been slated to manage everything backstage, but with the Sullivans staying home, the four of us who were left had taken on multiple jobs. Part of me was grateful for the chaotic rush because the madness gave me less time to think about Maggie.

I’d sent Trent to talk to her since she was refusing to have anything to do with me. When I’d asked Trent later, he’d said Maggie “wasn’t in a good place,” “wasn’t herself,” and “needed time to sort out her shit,” which hadn’t exactly been comforting. What would more time do? Probably give her too many reasons to avoid me, convince herself we’d never work. We weresupposed to be together. Years of being apart hadn’t smothered my feelings. I had no doubts, and Maggie telling me to go to LA had turned my certainty from cement to concrete. I’d do whatever I had to do to get her back.

From the other side of the stage, Joseph Goldtooth, who had been moved to props to compensate for their missing members, held up a pair of handcuffs. “Which box?”

“That one.” I pointed with more confidence than I felt to a cardboard box labeled with a performer’s name. We had sorted all those boxes. I didn’t know why Joseph was moving things around, but I didn’t have time to micromanage. There was no way tonight would go smoothly when our seven-person team had become four. Panic beat its wings against my chest. What if the event was a colossal flop?

We’d sold out. Maybe because I’d secured famous singers like Mia Malone, maybe because so many of the men in the town had stepped up—and out—for the cause. But if this fell apart, it would be on a grand scale, and it might burn some of my professional bridges to boot.

When Jason, a local groundskeeper and the third nervous man, hovered to say he was having doubts about performing, my head threatened to pop off and whirl around the stage. I was on the verge of letting loose with some not-so-carefully chosen words when a manicured hand snatched the clipboard from my grasp.

“Let me handle it,” Emily said, smiling. Without missing a beat, she looped her arm around Jason’s shoulders and talked about his hard work and the good cause. The performance was only a few minutes of his life, but the money they were raising might rebuild a resident’s house or fix a local business. When Jason walked away, he was nodding his head, a smile on his face. She had a gift I did not possess.

“Thank fucking God,” I muttered before assessing her appearance. In many ways, she was like Maggie. There wasn’t a strawberry-blond hair out of place despite the circumstances. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”

She nodded but didn’t make eye contact. “I couldn’t stay at home. The—the funeral is tomorrow. It’s just all… you know.”

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