Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
“I can’t thank you all enough for going on this journey with me. But it’s almost over, and right now, my feelings for some of you are just stronger than others.” Trace pulled her full bottom lip into her mouth as she looked over each of us.
The black button-up shirt I’d put on was soaked through.
We were outside by the pool for tonight’s elimination, and Trace looked fucking ethereal in an off-white sundress.
I hadn’t seen her all day, and watching her walk out was like finally catching my breath again.
Even if there was still the slightest chance she could send my ass home tonight.
“Grant, I’m so sorry.” She frowned and clasped her hands together up by her chest. “It’s time for you to go home. I think we both know that we’re better off as friends.”
I let out a breath, refusing to show the cameras that I had been a tiny bit anxious. Until I heard the words, I love you, I’m yours, out of Trace’s mouth, I wouldn’t feel completely comfortable.
Grant sighed and clapped my shoulder and then Tripp’s. Trace rushed forward and threw her arms around his midsection, squeezing him in for a tight hug. Something flared inside me, but I was glad to see their friendship had grown so much on the show.
Grant leaned into the embrace and rubbed her back.
Alright, that was enough.
“I’m really glad you came,” she said into his shirt.
“Hey, no tears, okay?” He pulled back and squeezed her arms. “You’ve got this.”
There was an obvious air of ease there, a familiarity the two of them hadn’t had before this show.
I wasn’t jealous of it, more so just jealous of the fact that Trace and I had lost that and I had no clue when—or if—we’d get it back.
But Grant had clearly been a source of comfort to her in here, and I was grateful as hell for that.
Trace let him go and he moved onto Tripp. They hugged, patting each other on the back a few times.
Tripp said, “We’ll see each other soon.”
“Definitely.” Grant smiled. “I’m holding you to your promise of visiting me in Cali.”
“I’ll be there,” he said.
Then he stopped in front of me. “See you, D.” When he pulled me in for a quick hug he whispered, “Good luck, seriously.”
I gave him a curt nod. “Thanks.”
It really was hard seeing Grant go. I wasn’t sure if friend accurately described what we were, but then again, I’d always had a hard time with that word.
I had a nasty habit of keeping everyone at a distance, which was why the only meaningful relationships I’d managed to foster were with my best friends from grade school.
But Grant and I had shared some fucking weird experiences together.
Something told me he’d be sticking around my life for good.
Last night in the room, I’d asked again if he’d kissed Trace. He’d explained she’d been pressured to do it for the show, which eased my internal jealous monster a little bit. I told him I’d wait to see the footage and let him know if he was forgiven.
He’d just rolled his eyes and said, “If you get her back, I’ll give you full permission to shove me into a wall or something. But until she’s your girl again, you can’t give me shit.”
Challenge fully accepted.
Brady’s assistant led Grant to the side of the house while Emma pulled Trace to get an interview. Tripp and I went back inside to the living room.
I stuffed my hands in my pockets.
The two of us had barely had a five-word conversation since my arrival.
It was never just us two. We’d always had a buffer—a producer, Trace, Grant.
The rivalry was palpable. While I hated the idea of Trace being treated as some object to be won, the fact of the matter was that we were in an environment that required us to compete for her attention.
I didn’t care how nice of a guy Tripp was, he wasn’t walking out of here with her. Not if I could help it.
“Final two.” A low whistle slipped from Tripp’s lips. “I actually can’t believe how fast the last few weeks have gone by.”
I shifted. “Sorry you’re not standing here with someone else,” I said, not actually sorry at all.
“It’s fine.” He shook his head, briefly meeting my eye before glancing to the side where a ring light illuminated Trace while a camera zoomed in on her tear-stained face. “Look, I told her I wouldn’t give up, but I’m also not an idiot. I know I’m the underdog in this situation.”
“We have a lot of history,” I said, feeling like a dick. The last thing I wanted to do was be some arrogant, peacocking bastard and rub it in his face.
He rocked back and forth on his heels. “I know that. I’m fully prepared to bow out gracefully.” He looked at me. “I hope you know what a great girl she is.”
Understatement of the fucking century. She was literally my world, the center point I wanted to build my entire life around. “I do. Trust me, I do.”
After what felt like an uncomfortably long span of Tripp and me just standing there, trapped in silence, Trace finally joined us back inside.
A couple of cameras captured our sad little trio from a few different angles.
Me, the love of my life who could still hardly look my way, and some random guy who probably wished he wasn’t in the middle of this mess right now.
“The final dates will be over the next couple of days,” she said, lifting a glass to toast us. “I’m so lucky to have you both here.”
She swiped at her eye, and without thinking, I brought my thumb to her cheek and brushed away a lingering tear.
She let out a small gasp, and I pulled my hand away.
“Sorry,” I muttered. Regret filled me. I yearned for when things had been easy. When I could touch her without thought, because I knew she wanted me to.
“Alright, that’s a wrap!” Brady yelled, clapping his hands together and pulling off his headset.
Before I knew what was happening, Emma swept Trace away. She shot me one last look over her shoulder. Fuck. The uncertainty I saw there, the way she doubted herself—the way she doubted me.
“Alright, you two, grab your stuff out of the room,” Brady’s lead PA, Jamie, instructed us. “You’re moving to separate bedrooms.”
“Why?” I asked, following him to the room that now only housed two bags. The clutter was completely gone. It turned out the one thing Tripp and I did have in common, aside from impeccable taste in women, was an aversion to clutter.
“Are you really questioning it?” Tripp asked, moving past me into the room and picking up his bag without opposition.
I considered this. “Good point.” I grabbed my own duffel and slung it over my shoulder.
“We’re separating everyone so we can have all the focus on the final dates,” Jamie said.
We walked further down the hallway, past the bathroom, and up the second staircase in the back. The upstairs had been off limits to us before this, despite the very grand modern staircase in the front entryway.
“Tripp, this is you.” Jamie pulled open the first door on the left and ushered him inside.
He tipped his head in my direction. “May the best man get the girl, I guess,” he said before disappearing behind the door.
Jamie continued down the hall, and I followed.
“And this is you.” He pushed open the last door.
I walked into the giant bedroom, at least twice the size of the one all the guys had been sharing downstairs.
It had a large king size bed and an entire fucking sitting area, complete with a leather loveseat and everything.
I arched an eyebrow. “These have been here the entire time?”
Jamie ignored me. “Your date films tomorrow afternoon. We’ll call you for interviews beforehand.” He left, closing the door behind him.
With that, I was alone, drowning in my own thoughts.
I tossed my duffel onto the loveseat before falling back into the stiff mattress.
As I lay there, responsibilities from back home drifted in with the quiet.
I was supposed to be promoting my documentary, the one I had been dreaming about for literal decades.
It didn’t matter that it had been picked up by a streaming service—that didn’t guarantee viewership.
Part of me worried I was letting my friends down.
But Jaylon had told me to go, without a second thought.
He and Barrett had seen first-hand how miserable I’d been lately.
That didn’t completely absolve my guilt, though. Not just for the days that I’d been gone, but for the days I’d been physically but not mentally present. The ghost of me, going through the motions, while really just thinking about one thing.
The whole mess with Trace had been a wake-up call, one I’d desperately needed.
I’d finally realized that I needed to stop letting my demons run my life. I needed to grow the fuck up. I was thirty-one years old. I couldn’t keep running from everything.
My entire life, I’d made it my goal to face challenges head on. Any fears, I pushed aside. I’d learned to backcountry ski. I’d jumped out of a plane. I’d climbed mountains way outside my comfort zone.
Yet, when Trace had looked up at me, eyes wide like I hung the moon, I’d fucking faltered. I’d dropped her cold and sprinted in the other direction. Now, I couldn’t convince her I knew how to stay.
I had to, though.
I had no choice.