Grey tenses as reality sinks in, his competitive side flashing, but in a blip, his features relax. “That’s awesome, Liv.”
As Grey bumps my shoulder, Nick tries to read between the lines. “Shanks didn’t tell you?” he asks me. “You seriously didn’t know?”
I’m trying to keep my face brave.
“Coach told me when I met with him about leaving the team—I just didn’t believe him.” All of which is true, but I suddenly feel like a total lying asshole.
“O-ROD!” Addie squeaks, obvious excitement overriding any worry about me and Grey. Addie lunges and suddenly her arms are wrapped around me, so strong and warm, her bevy of newly done braids blinding my vision. She’s absolutely vibrating with joy.
I wish I could see Grey’s expression. Instead, I hear Nick laugh. “Jesus, what a tackle. You transfer to Northland, McAndry, and I’m B team again. Guaranteed.”
Addie slides off me and straightens her shirt, the fabric riding up and flashing enough of a taut brown tummy to make Nick’s cheeks flush yet again. “Don’t tempt me, Cleary.”
I check Grey’s face—the surfer is winning out over the newsman, all relaxed and sunny. Like he’s enjoying Nick and Addie’s banter. But I know how badly he’s wanted to start. And he’s a senior. There are only so many games left.
I need to know he’s truly fine. I don’t want him lying to himself any more than I want to lie to him.
The sun is gone—the only illumination is Helena’s ancient dashboard and the partial moon as we pull up in front of Grey’s house. Because he’s Grey, he still looks good, thelight and shadow playing to the newscaster lines of his face, the wave of his hair softening the intensity.
“I really didn’t think Coach meant it,” I tell him. “About me starting on Friday. I figured he’d change his mind and it wouldn’t be worth bringing up.”
That half smile settles in. “My ego’s that fragile, huh?”
I snag his hand and turn it over, forcing open his fingers and interlacing mine within his. My eyes pin to his face. “No, you’re just that important to me.”
The weight dissolves at the sigh in his eyes and I lean forward, lips to his before he can respond. His mouth is even warmer than his fingers, shampoo scenting his hair, chin rough with scruff.
When I pull away, his lashes flutter open and his jaw sets, lips slightly red from contact. “You’re important to me, too.”
I squeeze his fingers. The silence flies over.Fragile.“Are you ever going to tell me how you broke your collarbone?”
“Are you going to ask me why I don’t drive?”
It seems like an odd question to ask in response. My vision blurs on his house—the three-car garage and the manicured lawn. He’s never driven me anywhere. I don’t even know if he has a car, which seems absurd, given that he’s a senior and his parents aren’t exactly pinching pennies.
“Wait. Am I in a movie?” I glance over his shoulder and whip around to look at the street. “Where’s the director?Casting got it all wrong. You’re a horrible pick for the role of ‘hot guy haunted by his mistakes’ inCautionary Tale Number Twelve.”
His grin widens, though there’s weight behind it. “Car accidents happen outside of the movies, Liv. In real life. With real people. Who really get hurt.” He taps his collarbone.
“Yeah, but… you didn’t… nothing…”
“I didn’t kill anyone, Liv,” he says, looking me in the eye. “I just totaled my car, busted my collarbone, and my hard-ass mom took away all my driving privileges and refused to buy me another car.”
“Oh.”
I don’t know why, but I expected there to be more. Like some sort of moral to the story. But instead it’s black and white, just an accident that happened. A mistake he made. One he’s paid for in borrowed rides and sideline time.
One that led him to me.
“Why is the death glare back? You think I’m into you just for your wheels?”
I shake my face blank. “First my arm, then my wheels, right?” I plant one on his cheek. “No, sorry, I’m confused. Like, should I be happy that you got in an accident and that tossed us together, or sad that you got hurt? I mean—”
“That’s easy. Happy.” He touches my chin and I sink into his palm. “I’m happy about it. There’s absolutely nothing to be sad about.”
“But you were hurt—”
“Was.I’m fine now.” His thumb rubs my cheek. “More than fine because you’re in my life.”
