Page 35 of Unrivaled

Warm fingers wrapping around mine make me open my eyes, and I look down to see Grayson’s thumb rubbing the back of my hand. He gives me one last squeeze and withdraws, making my fingers feel even colder than they did before.

How does he do that? I should be furious with him. Cold and unfeeling. And with a few smiles, a couple of cute comments, and a simple comforting gesture, he’s already starting to break down the walls I erected years ago.

His voice breaks into my thoughts. “Why don’t we plan some activity for the three of us together? We can break the news to him there and then have a regular schedule like that for a while to let him get to know me. We’ll move to one-on-one time when he’s comfortable with me. Does that sound okay?”

I meet his eyes, hardly believing how reasonable he sounds after threatening to take me to court like half an hour ago. Licking my lips, I nod—and I don’t miss the way his gaze zeroes in on my mouth before he drags his eyes back to mine.

“Okay,” I agree. “I think that sounds like a good plan.”

Grayson releases a breath and gives me a small smile. “Good. Okay. Now that’s settled, will you please let me buy you something to eat?"

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Gray

Tiffany and I part ways in the parking lot after she finally let me buy her a small burrito. I’m not entirely sure why it matters so much to me that she let me feed her, but it does. And even though I know this isn’t a date—she reminded me of that fact enough times, after all—for some reason, walking her to her car and watching her drive away feels all wrong.

She let me comfort her when she was upset. It wasn’t much, really. A small gesture, covering her hand with mine and stroking her soft skin. But she didn’t flinch away or act like she wanted to slap me. On the contrary, she seemed almost grateful.

After we reached our agreement to start with a first meeting, she relaxed quite a bit, giving me a glimpse of how she must be with everyone else. When I’d first walked up on her and Jackson that one day, she’d been laughing at something he’d said before she noticed me. Until today, I haven’t seen her smile since.

When we walked up to the counter together so she could decide what to eat—a chorizo con huevos burrito—I had to restrain myself from escorting her through the line with my hand on her back. It’s ridiculous, given everything, but having her with me somehow just feels … right. I can’t explain it even to myself.

So when she finished her food, I only managed to get her to hang out with me for a few more minutes before she said she had to go.

As she drives away, I can admit to myself that I’m not ready for our time together to be over. And it definitely shouldn’t end with her driving away without a backwards glance.

Letting out a sigh, I climb into my car. Her main question runs through my brain, and I sit in the parking lot telling myself I’m letting the car warm up when in reality I’m just loathe to go home to my sad little apartment with its secondhand furniture and bare walls. It’s not a home. It’s a place to crash.

What is it you actually want?

That’s what she asked, and somehow the directness of the question caught me off guard. All I’d thought about was just wanting to see Ben. Get to know him. Let him get to know me. I hadn’t really thought about the specifics and logistics of how that would work and what that would mean.

The wordcustodynever even entered my head. Much lessvisitation schedule. It all sounds so formal. So adult.

And suddenly I feel like a big dumb kid.

I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all.

I’m used to being in control. In my life, on the football field, in school. I know what’s expected, I know where I need to be and when I need to be there, I know what needs to be done. I have playbooks and rule books and people to keep me in check. I know how to prioritize what needs to happen and when, I know how to evaluate a situation and call an audible to get my team the best outcome, I know how to change things up as needed so I can do the right thing. And if I make a bad call, I know there are people around me to help get me back on track.

But custody? Visitation? Parenting?

I don’t have any playbooks or coaches for that. I don’t know where the right track is, much less how to stay on it, or how to know if I’ve gotten off of it.

I’ve met the kid twice and swung him through the parking lot. And while being responsible for that level of sheer delight is intoxicating in the best way,custodyandvisitation schedulesare things that parents deal with.

Obviously that’s the clear goal of meeting with Tiffany and trying to start hashing things out, but it didn’t really hit me until now.

What is it you actually want?

That’s the million dollar question.

Slowly, I buckle my seatbelt and pull out of the driveway. But instead of heading for my apartment, I go in the opposite direction, toward my parents’ house.

If I could have anything I wanted, it would be for Tiffany to have given me a chance back in high school. But that’s clearly impossible. And despite our moment of … friendliness, she obviously wants nothing to do with me now either.

Beyond that, I want the opportunity to get to know my son. That seems entirely abstract right now, though. And I don’t know if I can come up with a better answer until after that piece is in place.

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