Page 92 of Rival Hearts

I frowned, taking Lila’s phone from her hand. “Is it bad?”

“No, it’s not.” Lila punched in her security code.

My breath caught in my throat at the sight of Grady striding toward a microphone perched in the middle of the stage. With asharp shake of my head, I tried to give the phone back to Lila. “I can’t—I don’t want—”

“If I thought this was a bad idea, I wouldn’t be here. Okay? I’m not going to set off a bomb in your life. I’m trying to help you pick up some of the pieces.” She rose and smoothed down her dress. “I’ll make tea. You watch.”

My stomach dropped as though I’d crested a hill on a roller coaster. His worn jeans were familiar. A few days ago, they laid on my bedroom floor. His navy shirt hinted at the muscles beneath, and my fingers clenched Lila’s phone, remembering the feel of each ridge.

Why couldn’t I stay numb?

When he approached the microphone, he angled himself to keep one of his hands on his guitar, which threatened to swing from behind his back. His lips were so close to the microphone I suppressed a groan of remembrance at how soft they’d been against my skin.

This must be how addicts feel. One glimpse of him wasn’t enough. I wanted him, could maybe convince myself he was a need. Even if Lila dropped a pot of scalding water all over herself and the floor, I wasn’t going to be able to look away. There he was, and he was everything.

He talked about the night and thanked people for attending. He gave credit to Trent for coming up with the idea of a community event to help repair our damaged town. My heart slowed at the deep timbre of his voice, such a comforting sound, even at this distance.

If I closed my eyes, I could pretend he was speaking to me, just me. He’d left me a voicemail a few days ago. I’d played it on repeat the day after I broke it off with him until I’d hit delete by accident, and I’d cried buckets of tears.

“But none of that is why I asked to close out the show tonight.” He gazed into the camera, searing my soul. “I hope you’re out there listening.”

Warmth spread through in a rush. Was he talking to me?

“Lila?” I called. The kettle whistled in the kitchen, but Lila didn’t respond.

“A few years ago, I wrote an album.” The crowd went wild, almost drowning out his chuckle into the mic. The mention of those songs made my stomach roll. “Yeah, yeah, you might have heard of it.” He scratched the back of his neck.

My heart pierced at the realization he was nervous. Why was he doing this? He hated working a crowd.

“A long time ago, I knew an incredibly smart, incredibly gorgeous red-headed girl. She stole my heart. Ripped it right outta my chest.” He grabbed his shirt and pulled his hand away, raising his fist into the air. “And I was so mad, I wrote a bunch of shitty songs about her. What I didn’t realize at the time was I’d also fractured her heart. And I’d give anything to undo that damage.” He looked at his feet and then into the camera again. My heart thundered in response. “You see, she’s brave and strong and loyal and beautiful and about a million other things, and I wasluckyit was her who snagged my heart so long ago. I couldn’t imagine a worthier person.”

“Lila?” I called, my voice tinged with panic. What was Grady doing?

He stared into the camera. “You protected my heart, even when I didn’t deserve it, and I haven’t been able to do the same for you. I want to, though. I want to spend hours, days, weeks, years tending to your heart.”

The camera caught someone from the crowd yelling, “You can tend my heart, Grady!”

He glanced up and squinted into the lights. “Only one heart I’m interested in, sorry.” He grinned to take the sting from hiswords. Even as my heart beat erratically in my chest, I wondered why he hated wooing a crowd. He was good at it.

The guitar he’d been holding behind his back swung to his front. Glancing down, he strummed a few chords. Warmth spread to my core, and the glow of all the lingering love I’d been repressing the last few days spilled out.

He fiddled with a few things on his guitar as he strummed and continued to speak, “The other night, you asked me to write a song. So, I did. I wrote this for you, Maggie May.” Gazing directly into the camera, he said, “If there’s a choice to be made, I choose you. Wherever you are, that’s where I want to be. With you. Always. I’llalwayschoose you. I love you so fucking much.”

My heart swooped down to my feet and then soared. Had he said that? Had he really declared his love in front of all those people?

Grady loved me.

Until this moment, I hadn’t been sure I understood what I needed to hear to give me the confidence to trust Grady again like Trent suggested.

As the melody began, I recognized it. He’d been humming it in the days leading up to my dad’s death. With a small smile, he leaned into the microphone and sang. The song looped around me. Each word was a thread, weaving itself into the fabric of my heart, finding my tattered edges and mending them.

Before this moment, I’d tried to convince myself that my forever person didn’t have to be him. And perhaps I could have let him go. But the more he sang, the more I realized I might be able to live without him, but I didn’t want to, not if he loved me like this, not when I loved him exactly the same way.

Each time he stepped toward the mic and belted out another line, my heart squeezed. All my anger and pain, both the old and the new, was being wrung out.

When the song ended, he threw up a hand and waved to the crowd and the applause was deafening. He leaned into the mic one last time and yelled, “Vote Maggie Sullivan for mayor of Little Falls. She loves this town. Loves you people. There’s no better candidate.”

My chest swelled, overflowing with so many emotions I didn’t know how to identify them. The video cut out, and I glanced up. Lila was beside the island, tears in her eyes.

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