Bringing her hand to her mouth, Maren swept it across her lips. She knew she’d bit down on it hard when she’d landed on the ground. The split in her bottom lip bled and she ran her tongue across the gash, tasting the unpleasant liquid.
“Looks like he’ll fit in just fine.”
Maren whirled around to see Grady standing at the trailer. The moment their eyes locked, he rushed forward.
“Maren!” Two solid hands were on her instantly. “What happened?”
“Josie happened.”
His house was how she had remembered it. The dishes balanced one atop the other in the porcelain sink and the discarded boots at the door were new, but Maren assumed these habits were formed in the absence of his mother. Maybe not really formed, but allowed. Grady had always been a bit of a slob.
Maren sat on the bathroom counter, the cold tile pressed to her legs. At eye level, Grady was even more handsome than she remembered. And she remembered him often.
Over the years, she had hoped he’d somehow grown less attractive. It was easier to forget him when she made him into someone he wasn’t. An ugly face; an ugly heart. She told herself this was who Grady truly was, but it was a lie she couldn’t convince herself to believe, no matter how much she manipulated her memories of him.
There was nothing ugly about this man before her.
He was gorgeous, down to the way his brow drew softly together every time his gaze swept over her face. The strain in his expression hinted at the pain he felt to look at her. Maren felt it, too. How she felt it.
Grady reached around to switch the faucet on. Water streamed out and he flicked his finger back and forth under the flow to gauge the temperature.
Maren couldn’t keep from staring at him. His angular jaw was dusted with a golden stubble and his skin was the darkest tan she’d seen on him. His lips were so full. She couldn’t look at them without the tormenting knowledge of what they once felt like on hers.
She was about to steal a look at his eyes when his seized the opportunity first.
“This might hurt a little,” he whispered as he took the washcloth into his hands and swiped it under the now warm water. He wrung it out between his fingers and lifted it up.
Maren braced herself for the sting, her hands bracketed on his shoulders. When the wet rag brushed across her mouth, her nails dug into his flesh, needing to grip onto something—someone—to dull the pain. Maybe to transfer it.
“I’m sorry,” he said. Tenderly patting her cut lip with a clean edge of the cloth, Grady pulled back to look at her. His eyes squinted. “What happened between you two?”
What happened between us? was what Maren wanted to know, but she didn’t ask it aloud.
“Just an argument that was a long time coming.” She winced as she spoke the words, feeling each syllable pull on the freshly injured skin.
“Does she look as bad as you?”
“As bad as me?” Maren laughed, but it hurt to do so.
“I don’t mean it that way.” Grady handed her the rag to continue applying pressure to the wound. “You’re always so beautiful.”
Maren’s eyes flicked up and Grady’s diverted before they had the chance to meet.
He sighed quietly. “I don’t think you’ll need stitches, but you sure did a number on that bottom lip.”
He was staring at her mouth. It’s what he used to do right before he kissed her. But she reminded herself he wasn’t about to do that now.
Her pulse slowed as she forced the anticipation away. It wasn’t right to allow herself to put stock in expired, naïve hope. She was a grown woman. She had the duty of protecting her own heart now. At least she had to try.
Maren angled around to the sink and set the washrag down onto the counter, and when she swiveled back to Grady, his hand was in the air as though reaching out to touch her chin. As suddenly as he lifted it, he dropped it back.
Maren caught his wrist in her hand.
Tightness constricted her throat and parched her mouth.
She drew his hand up to her cheek and pressed it there. Leaned into it.
Grady’s breath hitched. His pupils were ebony black and so large they almost swallowed his light irises.
It would be so much easier to pretend this pull between them was just a figment of her imagination. A made-up dream that existed in the recesses of her mind only.
But Grady’s forehead that pulled taut in restraint, his teeth that sunk into his bottom lip, his vein that thrummed furiously in his neck—those were the telling indicators that couldn’t be ignored.
This was not made up, not a fabrication.
Neither was the moment Grady’s forehead touched hers. Or when the hand Maren had placed on her cheek cupped her jaw in a gentle grip. Or when his thumb stroked across her lips, the air hissing between his at the same moment.
Even if he wasn’t going to allow his words to acknowledge it, his actions would make him out to be the liar Maren had always hoped he was. The one who had lied when he’d said he never loved her all those years ago.
Maren closed her eyes, praying Grady would keep on showing her just what a liar he had truly been.
14
Grady
Grady tried to keep the shake from his hands but the clinking together of ice cubes gave him away. Condensation sweat on the outside of the glasses in wet, round beads. With the toe of his boot, he kicked open the screen door. Maren spun around.
She’d been staring at her ranch the way Grady usually did from this vantage point, taking in the soft roll of the hills and the barbed-wire fence that separated her home from his in property line only.
“Thanks, Grady.” She took the lemonade when he offered it. “I appreciate it.” Then she sat down on the hanging porch swing and patted her palm on the empty space, wordlessly requesting his company.
Grady didn’t need to be asked twice. He hunkered down beside her.
“Can’t hardly imagine anyone else living there,” he said, noticing her gaze fall back toward her house.
“Same here.” Maren’s tone was sullen. “But I can’t imagine staying there without my dad around anymore, either. It’s strange to feel so split in two. In many ways, I suppose I have it a bit easier since I can just head back to the city and leave this life behind me.”
“Not all of us have the luxury of leaving our past behind us. We don’t all get to move on.”
Maren’s eyes flashed. Grady looked down at his drink.
It was hot both from the heat between them and the air around them, so he pushed his foot to the weathered porch planks and rocked the swing, trying to manufacture some sort of breeze. It didn’t work well, but moved the stagnant air just enough to take the edge off. Plus, it gave Grady something to do other than stare at the woman seated next to him.
“I don’t know,” Maren said finally with a surrendered shrug. “Seems like things are moving on well for you, Grady. With Kiley and all.”
Grady choked on his lemonade. He wasn’t ready to explain that situation to Maren. “That’s more out of obligation.” It wasn’t the entire truth, but enough of it.
“You’re a good man, then.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”