“You’d think they would be tired. Didn’t they get enough earlier?”
“Horny bastards.” Mallory releases her ponytail and shakes her hair, sending a flurry of coconut into the space between us. “Hey, what day do you want to meet up next week?”
For a split second, I think she’s asking to hang out. My excitement fades when I remember the real reason. The project. I only have two more punches on my golden ticket to convince Mallory to spend time with me outside of the game, and that’s going to take some strategizing.
“I’m not sure,” I lie. “Let me get back to you.”
“Well, let me know soon. Next week is busy. I’m babysitting the twins for Jane on Monday and Friday and meeting Dr. Martin after class Tuesday.”
Swiping a piece of chocolate cookie from my shirt I ask, “Why?”
“Why am I babysitting or why am I meeting Dr. Martin?”
“Neither. Why is busy your default?”
She looks over the car to make sure our friends are still busy and sighs. “I’m not really sure why I’m telling you this, but fine. Honestly? I think I’m wired this way. The idea of standing still, of being unproductive—it terrifies me. I’ve always found purpose in movement, whether that’s soccer, being with friends, babysitting, or studying. If I’m not moving forward, what’s the point?” A bittersweet smile appears. “I know people call me a workaholic or whatever, and they’re not wrong. I hate feeling stuck.”
“Do you ever take breaks? Aren’t you worried you’ll burnout?”
There’s something about the way she laughs dryly that tells me everything. She’s already burned out and likely has been for a very long time.
I clear my throat, desperate to find a lighter topic. “Speaking of productivity, is everything you do planned?”
“Yup.” Our shoulders bump as she leans against the car. “I’ll never understand why you’re so against planning. It’s weird.”
“Wait, I never said I’m against planning, Ed. I said I don’t get why planners are so complicated. Simplicity is key. What’s the point of having three hundred pages?” I tap my temple twice. “Plus, I prefer to keep it all up here.”
Mallory looks up at the night sky and sighs. “What a life you have, Gray. No planning. No stress. No worries. Honestly, I envy you.”
The air goes stale between us, only the screams of enjoyment in the distance. For the first time since my dad’s visit, I want to tell someone everything. The years I spent following a plan that I never wanted. Thefeeling of getting away, only to realize I was never free. The uncertainty surrounding two very important things to me.
My career and her.
Mallory has never shied away from speaking her mind, but when her eyes widen, I’m sure that’s not something she meant to say out loud.
“Gray—”
Cade’s head appears above the car, and I’m blinded by hisI just kissed a pretty girlgrin. “Kent! You ready?”
“Yeah. Give me a minute.” I look back at Mallory. “Don’t worry about it, Eddie. It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. Nothing about that is okay.” Her eyes fall to the pavement. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m so sorry.”
Add that to the running list of things I admire about this woman. While she’s blunt, she’s also quick to apologize and means every single word. Mallory Edwards is special.
“Apology accepted, but not needed. We’re good. I promise. Get home safely, okay?”
I open her door and step back, but my body stills when her hand lands on my shoulder. Two layers have nothing on her touch, burning through the thick material as her fingers run down the front of my flannel before her hand pats my chest pocket.
“Good night, Gray,” she whispers, closing the door before I can ask what the hell that was.
Cade slings an arm over my shoulder, turning us toward his car. “Even though it’s cold, I could really go for some frozen yogurt. Let’s stop on the way home. Race you to the car!”
He pats my chest, and I wince when something stabs my skin. I reach into the pocket and pull out a folded ten-dollar bill that could have only come from one person.
As her car disappears, I can’t help the flicker of hope that blooms.
Chapter Nine
