Page 59 of Unrivaled

Grayson touches his arm. “I’ll always keep you safe, bud,” he whispers.

Ben is growing heavier against me, his eyelids staying closed longer with each blink. “I should probably get going if I’m going to get him in the car before he’s all the way asleep,” I whisper.

But Ben’s clearly not out yet, because his eyes pop open. “No!” he protests. “Stay.”

“Uhhh …” I glance from Ben to Grayson, not really sure what the best course of action is here.

Grayson shrugs. “It’s fine. I was already planning on sleeping on the couch. He didn’t like the toddler cot I have for him. You guys can take my room.”

I glance down at my dress. “I don’t have anything to wear.”

Another shrug. “I can loan you something. Seriously. He needs you. It’s no trouble. I swear.”

And just like that, another piece of the wall I’ve been trying to keep up between us breaks off and goes tumbling into the abyss.

Watching him with my son does things to me. And the fact that he’s not annoyed by Ben’s insistence on me interrupting their first night together and is actively inviting me to stay and offering to make me as comfortable as possible is … sweet. Considerate. Caring. All the good things you want in a guy, especially when that guy is the father of your child.

Ben settles against me again, his eyes closing.

“Bedroom’s this way,” Grayson says as he stands, heading into a short hallway.

Standing, I follow him. He goes to his dresser and pulls out a red T-shirt and a pair of black and gray athletic shorts. “They have a drawstring.” He flips open the waistband of the shorts to show me before setting the clothes on the foot of the bed.

“Thanks,” I whisper, not wanting to disturb Ben. I gently lay him in the center of the bed. “He didn’t give you any trouble until bedtime?”

Grayson moves to stand next to me, looking down at Ben. He shakes his head. “No, he was great. The first inkling of trouble was when I said it was time to get ready for bed. He put up a fight about that, but I eventually got him to come around. After reading the stories you packed multiple times and declaring it time for lights out, he became inconsolable.” His big shoulders move up and down, and I feel his shrug more than see it. “The only option was to have you come over.” He glances down at me. “Sorry if I ruined your date.” He doesn’t actually sound sorry, though.

I shake my head. “Don’t be sorry. You didn’t ruin anything. And anyway, Ben’s more important than a random first date.”

He grunts in response, then moves to his dresser again. “I’ll go change and head out to the couch. I’ll knock when I’m done in the bathroom.”

I watch him walk to the door. “Grayson?”

He turns, one hand on the doorknob. “Yeah?”

“Thanks. For texting me. For taking such good care of him. For”—I gesture at the room—“letting us take over your room for the night.”

He gives me a sweet smile that’s such an echo of Ben’s that my breath catches. “Of course. Don’t worry about it. I’m glad you came.”

And with that, he leaves, pulling the door softly closed behind him.

He’s glad I came?

Because Ben wanted me and he didn’t know what else to do? Or for his own reasons?

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Gray

Tiffany is in my bed, wearing my clothes. Yeah, she has a three-year-old in there with her and not me, but still. She’s here. In my apartment. In my bed.

I turn over, trying in vain to get comfortable on the couch. With the dip in the middle, it’s pretty much impossible. I’m going to have to rethink the sleeping arrangements if Ben has overnight visits more often.

Am I going to have to call Tiffany every time we try to have a sleepover?

Is it really that awful if I do?

When she said that I didn’t ruin her date, my heart leapt. Which is selfish and dickish, because that likely means it wasn’t that great of a date, and I really shouldn’t be happy about that.

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