Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
Grant
He kissed her.
Grant couldn't help himself. The second Riley said she couldn't wait to talk, the second he saw her standing there in the firelight looking nervous and beautiful and here, he had to kiss her.
She gasped against his mouth, and Grant took advantage, pulling her closer, his hands framing her face like she might disappear if he let go. The kiss was desperate and hungry and full of everything he'd been holding back for the past day.
When he finally pulled away, they were both breathing hard.
"I missed you," he said, his voice rough.
Riley's eyes were bright with unshed tears. "Grant—"
"We need to talk." Grant's thumb traced her cheekbone. "But not here. Let's go home."
He took her hand, lacing their fingers together, and pulled her to follow him.
He led her toward his truck, acutely aware of their friends watching from the edge of the bonfire. Mark gave him a thumbs up. Ryan grinned. The girls were whispering excitedly, but Grant ignored all of them.
Riley didn't question where they were going.
She just followed, her hand warm in his, and Grant was grateful.
He wasn't sure he could explain right now.
Wasn't sure he could put into words why he needed to take her to the farm, to his home, to have this conversation in private where it was just them.
He just needed to get Riley alone.
The drive was torture.
Riley sat in the passenger seat, her hand in his, and tried to explain. "Grant, I need to tell you what happened. With my job. I—"
"I know." Grant's grip tightened on the steering wheel with his free hand. "I know you were trying to tell me something important, and I didn't let you finish. I'm sorry."
"No, you don't understand. I qu—"
"Riley." Grant pulled her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "I know. And I want to hear everything. Just…let me get us somewhere private first, okay? We’re going to go home, and we’re going to talk, and I promise I’ll shut the hell up and let you speak.
I promise. I have things I need to say too. Please just wait a couple minutes?"
She fell quiet, but her thumb traced circles on the back of his hand, and Grant had to focus very hard on not pulling over right there.
He was restraining himself by a thread.
Everything he wanted to say was building up inside him like pressure in a dam about to break. I love you. I've always loved you. Please stay. Please choose me. Please don't leave again.
But he needed to let her talk first. Needed to actually listen this time instead of shutting her down.
Even if it was killing him.
Grant pulled into the farm driveway, relief flooding through him when he saw his dad's truck was gone. Thomas had mentioned something about poker night at Jim's house, but Grant hadn't been paying attention. Now he was grateful.
He needed Riley alone. Needed privacy for this conversation.
Grant parked and Riley looked around, confusion crossing her face.
"What are we doing here?" she asked.
Grant turned to face her, his heart pounding. "I told you I was taking you home so we could talk."
"Your home."
"Yeah." Grant's voice softened. "Home."
Riley's eyes searched his face, and whatever she saw there made her breath catch.
Grant climbed out and came around to open her door, taking her hand to help her down. The cold bit at them as they walked to the house, but Grant barely felt it. All he could focus on was Riley's hand in his and the fact that she was here.
She'd come to him.
Inside, the house was quiet and warm. Grant flipped on the lights, suddenly aware of how the place must look—lived-in and a little messy, his jacket on the back of the couch, his dad's newspaper on the coffee table.
"Dad's at poker night," Grant said, shrugging off his coat. "Won't be back until late."
Riley nodded, slipping out of her own coat. Her hands were shaking.
Grant hung both coats by the door and turned to face her. They stood in the living room, the Christmas tree lights still twinkling in the corner, and Grant had never been more nervous in his life.
"I know I didn't give you a chance to talk," he started. "And I'm so sorry for that. I was hurt and scared and I said things I didn't mean—"
"Please, Grant." Riley's voice cracked. "Let me say what I came to say before I explode."
Despite everything, Grant laughed. The sound surprised him—rough and a little broken but real.
"Okay," he said, settling onto the couch. "I'm listening. I promise."
Riley paced in front of the Christmas tree, her hands gesturing as she talked. "I quit my job. The day I missed the pageant. Before I even missed it."
Grant's chest tightened, and his eyes grew wide, but he stayed quiet. Let her talk.
"My boss kept piling things on, and I kept thinking I could finish and still make it back in time.
But then I looked at the clock and realized there was no way.
I was going to miss it. I was going to break my promise to you.
" Riley's voice shook. "And in that moment, I just..
. I couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't let my job control my life.
Couldn't let it take away the things that actually mattered. "
She stopped pacing and looked at him, her eyes shining with tears.
"So I quit. Right there. Sent my resignation email while she watched me type it and walked out.
I caught the earliest train I could, but by the time I got here, the pageant was over and you were so hurt and angry.
" Her voice broke. "And when I tried to tell you, you wouldn't let me finish.
You kept saying it was all fake anyway, and I thought—I thought I'd ruined everything. "
"Riley—"
"I'm not done." She took a shaky breath. "Let me get through this or I’m going to explode.” She wrung her hands out, and Grant leaned forward, elbows on his knees to listen intently.
“I'm breaking my lease in the city. I'm starting my own business here—marketing and consulting for local businesses.
I'm moving home, Grant. Not just for the holidays.
Permanently. I'm choosing Pine Valley. I'm choosing this life. I'm choosing you. If you’ll have me. It wasn’t fake for me. I don’t think it was ever fake for me. "
The words hung in the air between them.
Grant stood slowly, his heart hammering so hard he could hear it in his ears.
"I love you," Riley whispered. "I've loved you since we were sixteen years old, and I never stopped.
Not when I left for college. Not when I moved to the city.
Not when you offered to fake date me so people would stop teasing me.
" A tear slid down her cheek. "It stopped being fake for me the minute you touched me. Maybe it was never fake at all."
Grant crossed the room in to her in two long strides and pulled her into his arms.
"It wasn’t fake," he said against her hair. "Not for a second. Not from the moment we walked into that reunion hand in hand. Maybe not even then."
Riley pulled back to look at him, her hands fisting in his shirt. "Grant—"
"I love you." The words came out fierce.
Certain. "I've loved you since we were sixteen years old, sitting in my truck eating ice cream and talking about nothing.
I loved you when you left for college. I loved you when you moved to the city.
I loved you every single day for the past ten years even when I tried not to. "
He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs wiping away her tears.
"When I offered to fake date you, when I knew how much the teasing was getting to you, I jumped at the chance. Any excuse to be close to you again. To pretend, even for a little while, that we were together. That you were mine. But it didn't feel like pretending. It felt like coming home."
"Grant." Riley's voice broke on his name.
"I'm sorry I didn't let you talk. I'm sorry I threw the fake dating in your face when I knew it wasn't fake.
I was scared and hurt and I wanted you to hurt too.
" Grant rested his forehead against hers.
"But hearing you say you're staying? That you're choosing this?
Riley, that's all I've ever wanted. You're all I've ever wanted. "
"I'm so sorry I didn't say something sooner," Riley whispered. "I'm sorry I wasted so much time pretending—"
"We both did." Grant's smile was shaky. "But we're not pretending anymore."
"No more pretending," Riley agreed.
"No more fake."
"Just real."
"Just us."
Riley kissed him, and Grant kissed her back like she was air and he'd been drowning.
This was real. She was staying. She loved him.
The kiss deepened, turning urgent. Riley's hands slid up into his hair, and Grant groaned, pulling her closer. All the restraint he'd been holding onto in the truck, all the words he'd been keeping back, everything came pouring out in the kiss.
When they broke apart, both breathing hard, Riley's eyes were dark with want.
"Take me upstairs," she said.
Grant's heart stuttered. "Riley—"
"Please." Her voice was soft but sure. "I want this. I want you. No more pretending. No more holding back. Just us."
Grant searched her face, looking for any hesitation. He found none.
"Yeah?" His voice came out rough.
"Yeah."
Grant took her hand and led her upstairs to his room.
The space was simple and rustic—a large bed with an oak headboard, a dresser, the window overlooking the fields. Nothing fancy. But it was his, and Riley was here, and that was all that mattered.
He turned to face her, suddenly nervous. "I love you so—"
Riley kissed him, cutting off his words. "I know," she murmured against his lips. "I love you too."
Grant pulled her closer, his hands sliding under her sweater, finding warm skin. Riley gasped, arching into him, and Grant felt his control snap.
He walked her backward toward the bed, kissing her the whole way. When the backs of her knees hit the mattress, she sat, looking up at him with eyes full of trust and love and want.