Page 24 of Unrivaled

I stride ahead, catching up to Ben, who glances behind me at Grayson bringing up the rear. “Do you know him, Mommy?”

“Um, yeah. He’s friends with one of my classmates.” No way am I calling Jackson a friend after this. “Remember Jackson? He came over to rehearse with Mommy for a class project and brought you those pastries?” Ben nods.

Before I can finish, Grayson interrupts. “I’m good friends with Jackson. And Jackson introduced me to your mom.”

“Oh, okay,” Ben says, unconcerned with the fact that I’m basically pretending Grayson doesn’t exist, minus the minor concession of not talking over him.

Ben helps me open the door, even though he knows only grown ups are supposed to open doors here. Constantly pushing the edges of any boundaries, this one. Guess he gets that from his dad, from the looks of things.

Grayson follows behind us, catching up once we’re on the sidewalk. He glances at me before focusing on Ben and holding out a hand. “I’m Gray. What’s your name?”

“Ben!” He slaps Grayson’s hand and runs ahead, giggling.

“Don’t go too far ahead,” I call after him. He runs a bit farther, but stops at the corner of the building where we need to turn. We’ve done this enough times that he knows not to leave my sight.

Grayson chuckles. “Should’ve known better than to expect a little kid to have a whole conversation with me.”

I bite back my smile at the idea of Ben being still for any length of time when he’s not sick or asleep. “You spend much time around kids?”

Adjusting his backpack on his shoulder, he shakes his head. “Nope. Not much opportunity. I only have one sister, and she’s only two years younger than me. She’s here too. At Marycliff. But she doesn’t have any kids.”

I hum in acknowledgment but don’t volunteer any information as I dig my keys out of my tote bag. Grayson sighs.

Yeah, man. I know the feeling behind that sigh too. But what do you expect, dude? You abandoned me years ago, and then show up out of the blue demanding to meet my son. You think I’m just going to welcome you with open arms, thrilled for whatever crumbs you decide to throw our way?

Not fucking likely.

Sure, yeah, he says he didn’t know. And it’s not that Idon’tbelieve him. I’m just not sure Idobelieve him either.

Ben stops on the curb of the parking lot and walks along it while he waits for me to catch up, his arms outstretched for balance. When I reach him, I hold out a hand. “Hold hands in the parking lot, please.”

He gamely grabs my hand and uses his hold on me to jump off the curb higher than he’d be able to do on his own. I help him out, swinging my arm up, and he hangs onto me with both hands, squealing and giggling.

“Hey,” Grayson says. “If you let me hold your other hand, your mom and I can swing you between us.”

I hold my breath, hoping that Ben will turn him down. We’ve been abandoned once already. I don’t want Ben getting used to this kind of treatment, only to have it taken away again. But what kid in his right mind would say no to that offer?

“Okay!” he shrieks, getting his feet under him and tugging me closer to Grayson, his arm outstretched.

Grayson gives me a hopeful smile but quickly looks away when he sees my expression. With Ben’s hand firmly in his, he counts, “One, two, three, jump!”

Ben jumps, and Grayson and I lift him into the air, swinging him up and out in front of us. Giggling and squealing, Ben shouts, “Again!” as soon as his feet hit the ground.

“Hope you realize this will never end now,” I mutter.

Shrugging, Grayson gives me a crooked smile. “I don’t mind.”

And that’s how I transport Ben to my car today, laughing and happy, jumping higher than he could imagine over and over again, because Grayson gets him even higher than my dad and I do together.

If all I had to worry about was Ben having fun, I wouldn’t have any qualms about Grayson’s sudden appearance in our life.

But no matter how much fun Ben has, my goal is what’s best for him no matter what. And swinging him through the parking lot is not enough evidence to conclude that Grayson is what’s best for him at all.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Gray

I open the door to my apartment and step inside, the gloom a stark contrast to the cold, sunny day outside. Dropping my things next to the door, I toe off my shoes, not bothering to turn on a light. Instead, I flop down on my couch and sit in the semi darkness, slants of sunlight filtering in through the crappy white blinds that came with the place.

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