Chapter 35

35

Grady

I can't remember the last time I couldn't wipe a goofy smile off my face, but as I dump the burnt cookies and clean up the kitchen while Annika's digging through some women's clothing I found in one of the spare bedrooms downstairs, I realize I'm also whistling.

She stayed.

She seduced me .

I have my best friend back. We're good. We're better than good. And I'm just getting warmed up with being everything she needs me to be.

She steps out of the basement stairwell across the room with a wrinkle-nosed smile, and I bark out a laugh when I take in her socks, which go all the way up to her knees over purple leggings.

"Rainbow stripes? Not so sure those go with your boots."

"Don't judge, Mr. Leopard Print Robe."

"I put that back in the closet."

"But you still put it on first." She's in a Thrusters T-shirt—the pro hockey team in Copper Valley—and her damp hair is dangling over her shoulders, leaving small wet spots on the gray cotton where it touches.

She tugs at the back of the leggings like they're a size too small. "Best I could find. Thank you. For starting the laundry. I could've gotten that."

"Annika."

"I said thank you . You can't expect me to not add that I could've done it myself. So say you're welcome and let's move on to seeing if I can burn these no-fail brownies you swear are Annika-proof like those cookies. Which smell awful, by the way."

Yep.

She's hilarious, and she doesn't even know it.

"My fault on the cookies. If you'd been alone, you would've heard the buzzer."

"If I'd been alone, I probably would've been lost in a podcast about DNA testing and the scandal and drama that goes with it."

"Really?"

It's not often she goes ruddy in the cheeks, but there it is. "Guilty pleasure."

"Why guilty?"

She joins me by the sink and takes the cookie sheet to dry it. "It's all these people who think they're someone, and then they find out they're someone else, and it's…well, it's hardcore who did your mom really sleep with gossip on top of how many siblings do I have and was anyone ever going to tell me ? And all these other people having their lives turned upside down when they find out their dads slept around and they have seven siblings or some rare genetic disorder in the family that doctors would've missed without the missing family link…"

She ducks and turns to put the clean cookie sheet away in the island cabinet.

"You ever do it?" I ask.

I know the answer. She told me she refused to spend $30 on a pedicure when she got back from a deployment, because she could scrub the dead skin off her own feet for the cost of a pumice stone.

No way she's dropping a hundred bucks just to find out her mama's her mama.

"Yeah," she says quietly.

I'm not fast enough to stop my brows from meeting my hairline, and she gives a self-conscious laugh as she straightens. "I knew my grandma ran away from home in New York when she was seventeen because her dad was an abusive asshole, and she married an abusive asshole of her own who mysteriously disappeared when my mama was four, but I didn't know…"

She trails off, and it's not hard to jump to where she's going. She didn't talk about it much in high school, but I was with her once when she saw him. "You wanted to confirm who your father was."

"No. Mama wouldn't have lied." She shakes her head. "That was never the question. I just…if any of them ever take it, I want…I want them to know. I want my record to be there too."

Them .

She has siblings.

Not just Bailey.

"He's…?"

"Married. Three kids. Happy family in Copper Valley. Soccer teams and honor roll and new gaming systems for Christmas, last I heard. Why's the oven still on? We're not seriously making brownies tonight, are we?"

"You want them to know he didn't help you."

"Mama," she corrects. "He didn't help Mama . She didn't get pregnant by herself, but raised me by herself while he denied even knowing her. That's not okay. It's never okay. I know he was a teenager, but you know what? So was she. And she did what she needed to do. Alone. Maybe I'm being petty in hoping they find out, but I do. Are we making brownies or not?"

"You're fucking amazing, do you know that?"

"Queen of the tooth-cracking brownies and flaming granite cookies with a side of a thirst for vengeance buried deep. I know."

I hook an arm around her neck, kiss her hair, and tug her to the island. "C'mon. Brownies. You can do this, and they'll be ready before your clothes are done. Remember the first lesson?"

"Yes. Talk so dirty to the dough?—"

"Batter, for real, this time."

"—to the batter that I get arrested for exposing a thirteen-year-old to sexual harassment in the workplace."

"That's the spirit."

"Oh my god, Grady."

I grin. "All you have to do is feel the love. You don't have to say it out loud. But I highly encourage it while you're here. Here. My favorite recipe from school. I tweaked it, but people would know something was up if you had brownies identical to mine."

"You know what would be awesome? If we didn't have to pretend to be enemies in public and sneak around to see each other. That would rock ."

"It would, but Annika, look at how many customers our war is bringing in. We'll come out one day. But right now—get Duh-Nuts on solid footing. Save up for the lean times."

She sighs. "I know. I just—it would rock. That's all I'm saying."

"I rock."

"You are a Rock."

"In so many ways."

I grin.

She laughs.

And we manage to get a pan of brownies in the oven before we fall back into making out in one of the massage chairs in the living room.

I don't want to let her go, but eventually her clothes are clean again, and she's walking herself to the door whether I like it or not, so I trail along, not wanting to let go.

Not when I've waited this long for us . "Come camping with me tomorrow night. When you're done with…what's on your calendar tomorrow?"

"Roller skating."

"Whoa. Your mom's up for that?"

"No, it's—Bailey set me up on a date with Roger's son."

I see red. And green. I growl and tighten my grip on her hand.

"We're not dating, remember?" she says. "We're keeping up pretenses ."

"You—he—fuck that."

Her laughter breaks through the Incredible Hulk act I'm pulling. "Grady. Hi. I'm Annika Williams, and of fucking course I'm not going . But thank you. I like this possessive growly thing you have going on. It's oddly erotic."

She pushes up on her toes to brush a kiss to my cheek. "Let's see if I'm still standing tomorrow night before I promise anything, okay?"

"I can pick you up."

"What would I tell Mama and Bailey?"

My heart's still thundering out a howl at the idea of her going on a date with anybody, but I'm slowly getting it back under control. "Who's your friend? Liliana, right? Wait. The same Liliana who told everyone I had lice freshman year?"

She tilts her head. "I don't—oh. Yes. That Liliana. She grew up."

"She—" I stop, because reminiscing about someone who also replaced the C with an extra P when the cheering squad had a Cooper Rock day with letter flash cards—thus making it a Pooper Rock day—isn't going to move us forward here. "Have her tell your mama there's an overnight at the winery or something."

"I'll see what I can do," she says, but her brows furrow. "Thank you for tonight. I— we needed this."

I grab her in a tight hug. "You could stay tonight too."

"I can't, Grady."

Three words, seven million meanings, and most probably things that are racing through her head. I have responsibilities. Bailey will worry. Mama will worry. I don't have a good excuse. I'm terrified of how quickly I'm falling in love with you .

Okay, that last one's all me.

And I'm not terrified.

Not of falling in love with Annika.

Not when she's finally letting me in.

But I do steal another kiss before I let her go.

I don't know when I'll get another.

But I know one thing.

It won't be soon enough.