The Friend Zone (Game On, #2)(97)

She meets my eyes and her lower lip wobbles. I think mine does too.

“Hey,” I whisper.

“Hey,” she gets out. And then bursts into choking tears.

Instantly, I go to her, toeing off my shoes as I move. My jeans come off next. Only then do I notice Fi sitting next to Ivy. She rises, leaving us, as I make it to Ivy’s side. Without pause, I push aside the pillows and slide in behind Ivy. I’ll be her pillow now. My legs ease around hers. Gently as I can, I scoop Ivy up and settle her in my lap, drawing the covers up high over us.

I rock her as she cries, my face burrowed into the crook of her neck so she can’t see my tears. It takes me a moment to realize she’s saying, “I’m sorry” over and over. My hands shake as I stroke her back, trying to calm her.

When she relaxes a little, I lean us back against the headboard. “Why are you sorry?”

Ivy’s huge eyes find mine. “It’s my fault.”

I smooth her bangs back from her forehead. “How?”

“Gray…” Her fist clenches my shirt. “I…” She starts to cry again, a quiet roll of tears. “When I found out I was pregnant, I didn’t want it. I was afraid, angry. What if…? I thought those horrible things…”

A sob leaves her.

I hug her close. “You’re f*cking human. That’s all. You didn’t make this happen. It just wasn’t the right time, honey.”

But she isn’t listening. “And then I lost— And I feel so guilty. So…sad. It hurts, Gray.”

“I know.” I cup her head to my chest. “I know it does.”

“I didn’t want this to happen. No matter what I thought, I didn’t want this.” She sounds so broken, it kills me.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I should have been here. I should have been here.”

“You were playing your game.” Her voice is small against my skin. Guilty. “I told them not to get you.”

“Yeah,” I say, trying not to sound pissed, because if I think about it, I will be. “We’re going to have words about that later.”

Ivy’s head nods, but she grips me tighter. I reach past her and grab the tissue box someone left on the side of the bed. Ivy blows her nose, then settles back onto me.

We’re quiet for a long time. My left hip is numb and my shirt is damp with her tears. But I don’t move. “I’ve been thinking. About things. My mom died a slow, painful death.” I breathe past the tightness in my chest. “Drew lost his parents overnight. Truth is, life ebbs and flows no matter what we do. All these years, I’ve been trying to get some control over that by not giving a shit about anything. What kind of life is that?”

Ivy’s fingers play with mine as she leans more of her weight on me, sinking into my strength for support. I’m glad I’m strong, that my body can be used for more than sex or football. That it can be used in service of her, to protect.

“Bad things happen, Mac,” I whisper thickly. “And this? It tears my heart apart.” Ivy shudders, a little sniffle coming out. I hold her as secure as I can without squeezing her too hard, and then press my lips to her head. “I hurt for you. For me. For… Shit.”

A choked sound comes out of me. And then it’s Ivy holding me tight, her face pressed against the crook of my shoulder. “Gray…”

“I know, honey. I know. Hell, I’m not saying this right.” Gently I cup her cheek, tilting her head back so she meets my gaze. Her dark eyes swim with tears, and it guts me all over again. My thumb glides over her damp skin. “We can’t control the bad things, Ivy. But we can be there for each other when they happen. And the good stuff? It’s worth everything and anything if I can share the good stuff with you.”

Tears spill over Ivy’s cheeks as she reaches for me. “Cupcake.” Her lips find mine. And I don’t want to talk anymore, or to think. I just want to kiss her and hold on. Forever.



* * *





Ivy


We go home the next morning. Gray doesn’t leave my side. Not for three days. He holds me when I cry; he holds me when I don’t. He takes me to the doctor to get a checkup, then takes me home and makes me cream-of-tomato soup with grilled-cheese sandwiches, because I’d once told him that it was a childhood favorite. And when I want to watch a movie, he downloads the entire John Hughes collection.

This morning I assure him it’s fine to leave me alone for a while. He’s got more practice and a meeting with his team to start prepping for the National Championship.

It’s evening when he comes home, catching me in the act of dancing around the living room to Why Can’t I Be You? A tilted smile graces his face as I stumble to a stop, my breath light and panting. Flushed, I push a hand through my sweaty hair. “Hey. Gotta love The Cure, eh?”

“I’ve never heard them before,” Gray says, setting his duffle back down. “Sounds like something would Anna would listen to. She has a thing for Siouxie and the Banshees.”

“Oh, they’re great too. I used to find a lot of vintage records of theirs in London. Mom has a player…” I pick at the hem of my shirt. “I was restless. Felt like dancing.” I don’t know why I’m explaining. I wasn’t doing anything wrong, but it seems that way.