Gray’s voice is soft and low. “I get that too.” He sighs as well. “Fuck, how I get it. Aside from my mom, I came second—hell, more like fifth—to football.”
“And yet you love it.” I glance at his strong profile. He’s frowning up at the ceiling, but as if he feels my stare, he turns.
Joy fills his expression. “I do love it, Ivy. It gives me a high unlike anything else.”
He says it with such reverence, I find it hard to swallow. I’ve never loved anything that way. A strange sort of yearning fills me. To love something with that intensity. To be loved in turn, put first above all things. How would it be? If Gray’s love of football is anything to go by, it would be the best thing in the world.
“I envy you,” I say, my eyes focused forward so I don’t have to see his face.
But I feel him watching me. “Why?”
“I want that out of life, that excitement.”
“And you don’t have it with baking?” Gray sounds genuinely surprised, but his voice is gentle, almost hesitant. Does he pity me?
I shrug. “Not in the way you love football.”
His shoulder moves against mine as he takes a breath. “What excites you, then?”
You. “Sports. Interacting with others…” I shake my head. “Nothing concrete. Nothing flashing a big sign that says, ‘Here is your passion!’”
He seems to soak this in before responding. “I don’t know, Mac. I still think you’d make a kick-ass agent. Maybe not the sharky parts, but life planning. Marketing and coaching athletes through their social issues.” The comforter pulls as he rolls fully on his side to face me, and I can’t help but turn my head. A shock of dark gold hair flops over his forehead as he peers at me. “You should have seen the way you lit up when you talked to the guys about that stuff.” The corner of his lip curls upward. “It was beautiful.”
My fingers dig into the worn comforter beneath me. “I don’t know, Gray… I’ve grown up hating my dad’s job half the time.”
“And what about the other half?”
My free hand lifts in a helpless gesture. “Fascinated, jealous that he got to do those things while I was left behind.” I sigh and shake my head again. “It’s complicated.”
Gray nods. “Family stuff usually is. Just remember, you’re not your dad.”
“Thank God for that,” I quip, earning a snicker from Gray.
“Oh, hey…” Gray leans over me as he reaches for his bedside table, and his chest presses against mine. I suck in a breath so my breasts aren’t touching him, but he moves away just as quickly, now holding his phone. He flops back down next to me.
A few swipes and he draws up his email, then hands me the phone. “Check it.”
I scan the email, not understanding at first. Then I truly read it, and I feel a little sick. “Gray…”
He talks over me. “See? Totally clean.”
I click off the screen, not wanting to look at his sexual health report. He’s healthy, and I feel like shit. “W-why did you get a health check?”
His shoulder moves against mine as he shrugs. “You got me thinking. I mean, I’ve never done it without a condom, but like you said, oral…” He shrugs again. “Just thought it was a good idea.”
“Jesus.” I toss Gray his phone, and he catches it against his stomach, frowning as he turns.
“What’s wrong?”
“Wrong?” I press the heels of my hands against my eyes. “Fuck.”
“Mac.” Annoyance and worry color his voice. “Why are you freaking out? I’m clean.”
I turn and find his face inches from mine.
“Because I feel like a total asshole, that’s why.” I hold my palms to my hot face, blocking him out. “You got a checkup because I shamed you—”
“Oh, please,” Gray says with a forced laugh. “I get checked out once yearly. Just moved it up on my things-to-do list, was all.”
I don’t lower my hands. “Uh-huh.”