Page 89 of Unrivaled

“I missed him too.” I chance a look in her direction, but she’s still watching him. Her profile seems remote and … sad. “Was he the only one?”

She turns her face to me, her eyes filling with tears. And then she stands abruptly and leaves the room.

Ben, thankfully, doesn’t notice. “I’ll be right back,” I tell him. “I got you construction paper if you want to cut.”

“Okay!” he shouts, heading for his table in the corner. I watch while he rifles through the bins and comes out with a handful of colorful paper and his favorite green-handled scissors. Then he heads back to the bin, his face scrunched. His expression smooths into one of delight when he pulls out the hole puncher I got for him. “Can I use this?” he asks with wonder.

“Of course. Anything in those bins is for you.”

Once he’s absorbed in cutting and punching holes in paper—which will leave a big confetti mess once he’s done—I follow Tiffany down the hall. At first I thought maybe she’d be in the bathroom, but the door is open and the light is off. Instead, I find her in my bedroom, sitting on the bed with her arms wrapped around herself and staring at my suitcase.

She looks so lost and lonely sitting there, looking like she’s waiting for someone to collect her and take her away forever to a place she doesn’t want to go.

“Tiff,” I say just above a whisper.

Her head jerks up at the sound of my voice, and she pastes on the falsest smile I’ve ever seen. She swipes her hands over her cheeks like she’s been crying. “Hey,” she says, her voice hoarse. She clears her throat. “Hey. Sorry. I just needed a minute.”

I want nothing more than to pull her into my arms and reassure her that everything will be okay. But I don’t think that would be the right thing to do, even if I don’t know why.

“What’s wrong?” I ask softly, stationing myself against the wall next to the door. Maybe if I give her space, she’ll tell me.

She flops her hands into her lap and sighs. “Nothing. Everything. I don’t know.” Fresh tears track down her cheeks, and I can’t maintain my distance.

Sitting next to her on the bed, I put my arm behind her, giving her the option of leaning into me if she wants to. When she doesn’t immediately seek comfort from me, I force down the bubble of disappointment that wells up inside me.

“Talk to me,” I whisper. “Please. Things have been weird between us since I left. I know me being away was hard for Ben, but I didn’t expect you to freeze me out.”

She sucks in a ragged breath and wraps her arms tighter around herself. “And that’s the problem. You were only gone for a week and it was already torture. How much worse is it going to be when you move for good? When all we get is a few days here and there and video chats punctuating long periods of time apart.”

“Okay,” I say slowly, trying to understand what she’s getting at.

Eyes full of tears meet mine. “Don’t you get it? I can’t keep doing this. I can’t get more and more attached only to have my heart ripped out in a couple of months. I can’t.”

I blink at her, feeling really dumb right now. Because all those words together like that don’t make any sense to me. “What are you saying?”

She shakes her head and looks away. “I won’t keep you from Ben.” She sucks in a breath. “But I need to keep my distance.”

CHAPTER FORTY

Tiffany

Saying those words might be the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Harder than telling my parents I was pregnant. Harder than approaching Carter for a paternity test. Harder than trying to track down Grayson years ago and failing.

Because the thing is, I don’t really want to stop seeing Gray. If I’m being honest with myself—and I try to be—I’m already falling for him. The last week was so hard. Barely talking to him, not knowing what to say, not being sure where we stand … I wanted to have The Talk. The define-the-relationship talk. But over the phone while he’s gone isn’t the right time. Right before he left wasn’t the right time—I didn’t want to be responsible for any more distraction than I already was. And then after a few days, the more I thought about it, the more I realized how hard it would be, the more this seemed like not only the best option, but really the only option.

When I look at Gray, though, I start to doubt myself. Even more when all he does is stare at me, baffled, and ask, “Why?”

He’s so close, and it’s so tempting to just lean into him. I know he wants me to, that when he sat next to me it was what he was offering. And I want so badly to take him up on the offer, because nothing has felt better than being in his arms these last couple of weeks.

But isn’t that just prolonging the inevitable? And will only make the withdrawal worse for becoming so addicted?

Instead of leaning into him, I stand, clutching my arms like I’m trying to give myself a hug.

“Tiffany,” he says, his voice tortured. “Please. I don’t understand. Where is this coming from?”

Turning to face him, I throw my arms wide. “Me. It’s coming from me. From watching Ben mourn your absence. From feeling it so deeply myself. And that’s after only a few weeks! What are we going to do when you move?”

“Come with me.” He says it so quickly, so seriously, and so simply, that it’s stunning.

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