Chapter 23
Haley’s breath came in ragged gasps, her skin flushed with exertion. Slowing to a stop, she arched her back before resting her hands on her thighs.
“Why’d you stop?”
She lifted her head, eyes finding mine. I’d barely broken a sweat.
“Listen, when I suggested hanging out outside of work, I didn’t envision that involving anything to do with running,” she said between breaths.
I huffed out a laugh and made my way back toward her. Maverick’s leash was clutched in my hand, the furball trotting happily beside me.
Bending down, I dipped my head by hers with a smirk. “I thought part of figuring things out was letting you in on my hobbies?”
She snorted. “I can appreciate your hobbies without participating in them.”
“It’s only been twenty minutes.”
“I’m not a runner. That’s eighteen and a half minutes too many.”
I chuckled. “Come on, then. We’ll walk the rest of the way.”
Things had been going okay. It’d only been a couple of weeks, and we were still navigating how to do this whole not-fighting-it thing without drawing suspicion from anyone at work—other than Marie, who, according to Haley, guessed all on her own—or Wes and the rest of the gang.
Nothing had changed, but at the same time, everything did. The ground felt uncertain beneath me, subtle tremors of change running beneath the surface every time I looked at her.
We’d spent time together that didn’t involve the hospital or going to The Rusty Anchor, much like now—we were at the park for a late morning run.
And alone, things were more perceptible between us: the playful flirting, the lingering looks, the “accidental” brushes.
We kissed. We’d slept together a couple of times. Because we weren’t fighting it as hard.
I was still holding back, however.
When I told Haley I couldn’t promise her anything, I meant it.
It wasn’t because I didn’t feel this thing between us.
If anything, I felt it too much. But that was the problem.
There were bigger ramifications than just Wes and work, and I worried about what would happen if I allowed myself to feel it any more than I already was. I couldn’t let myself go there.
Not again.
Not like before.
Not when I knew the damage it could cause.
A few nights after our run in the park, I found myself at Lucas’s and Callie’s house with Wes, Morgan, and Gabe for dinner on a Friday night. It’d been a while since we’d gotten together away from The Sandbar. Haley was invited, but she had plans with Marie that night.
We were sitting outside beneath their covered outdoor entertainment area—early November brought cooler weather, but Lucas spared no expense when building this place, adding a fireplace and heaters as needed.
Morgan and Callie were sitting on the ground, showering Maverick with attention. “Blake, you said you’re off the weekend before Thanksgiving, right?” Callie asked.
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“Okay. We’re going to host Friendsgiving that Friday, then. So, everyone, add it to your calendars.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And you better bring this cutie with you,” Morgan said, rubbing Maverick’s belly.
“You gonna rub my belly like that later, Princess?” Wes joked.
Gabe snorted. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous of the damn dog.”
“Luke, we should get a dog,” Callie said.
Lucas smiled. “If you want a dog, baby, I’ll get you a dog. Just say the word.”
“He’d probably get you a pack of them,” Morgan teased with a grin.
Friendsgiving had become a tradition with them.
It all started when Callie first came back to Bayport after her mom died—she’d been struggling with the holidays, so Morgan and the others showed up at her house unannounced with all the fixings for a Thanksgiving feast. This would be my first year joining them in person instead of over a video call from base.
“Oh!” Morgan grinned, then looked at Callie and Lucas. “Did you ever tell Blake about Ava?”
Lucas chuckled. “No, I completely forgot.”
I looked between them, my brow furrowed. “Who?”
“So, a friend of mine and Morgan’s from high school was at The Sandbar last Saturday, and we were talking to her, and she was asking about you,” Callie said.
Wes waggled his brows with a smirk. “Asking about him, huh?”
Morgan chuckled. “Yeah. You just walked in from work in your scrubs, and she was all but drooling, then saw you go to our table with Luke and Wes, and she was all, ‘you guys know him?’”
“She asked us to pass along her phone number,” Callie said, writing something on a small piece of paper before handing it to me. “So, there it is. Do with it what you will.”
Later that evening, while Morgan and Callie were inside with Maverick, Gabe, and Wes, Lucas and I remained outside, each nursing a glass of bourbon.
I reached out to the table in front of us and grabbed the fancy Blackwood bottle, looking it over. “Is this some kind of special edition bottle?”
Lucas chuckled. “Yeah. Corbin gave it to me as a housewarming gift when we finished building. Said it was from all of them—him, Tate, Kade, and Levi.”
“Kade, huh? Last I heard, he was gone.”
Lucas shrugged. “Still is, I guess.” I set the bottle back down, right next to the small scrap of paper on which Callie had written that phone number. He tilted his chin, gesturing to it with a subtle grin. “You gonna call her? Seems like it’s been a long time since you’ve been in the game.”
I let out a breath, shaking my head. “No. I’m not gonna call.”
“What?” Lucas smiled. “Why not? I’ve met her a couple of times. She’s a nice girl.” He stopped and looked at me suspiciously. “Unless…there’s already someone…?”
“No,” I lied, shaking my head. There was someone. Our best friend’s younger sister, to be exact. But that wasn’t the only reason why I had no plans to call this other girl. “I’m just not in the market for a relationship or anything. I don’t need the distraction.”
I wasn’t just saying that because of what was going on with Haley. Being afraid of that kind of distraction was a big part of why I was still holding back with her.
Lucas looked at me. “I didn’t know you saw relationships as a distraction.”
“For me, they are.”
“You mean because of work?”
I nodded, staring off at the open backyard as my mind started to wander. “That’s a part of it, yeah…”
He must have noticed the distant look in my eyes. “Did something happen with someone back in N.C. or something?”
I stayed quiet for a moment before I shook the memory and tossed back the rest of my drink. “Or something…”
I didn’t elaborate further.
In the days that followed, despite trying not to let myself feel more than I was, the more time I spent with Haley, the harder I found it to control. My thoughts bounced around like a yo-yo again.
When I wasn’t with her, anxiety crept in—worrying about her and what was going on between us. My thoughts tangled inside my head, dredging up memories I’d rather forget—especially about Noah.
But as soon as I was with her in any capacity—at work or just the two of us—I felt calm. My thoughts stilled, and being with her felt like the only thing that mattered.
It was a conundrum. And it was fucking with my head, so much so, I actually brought it up to Nate during one of my sessions. Sort of. I didn’t go into too much detail, but enough for him to gather what was going through my mind.
“You’re equating the guilt to intimate relationships,” he said, staring at me from his seat across from the sofa I was sitting on.
I scoffed. “Well, they go hand-in-hand, don’t they?”
“In your mind, yes. In reality? No.” I looked at him. “It all connects to Noah and you blaming yourself and the guilt you’re still working through. Which–”
“Isn’t mine to carry,” I finished for him as I tried not to roll my eyes.
I was still struggling to convince myself of that.
“Right.” He took his pen, leaned forward, and pressed the tip of it to his pad of paper.
“You blame that past situation for making you distracted.” He dragged his pen down.
“You hold that distraction responsible for what happened with Noah.” He slid the pen to the right.
“And you’re telling yourself that if you let yourself feel anything, it will cause enough of a distraction where something similar will happen again.
” He dragged the pen back up, having made a triangle on the paper.
“It’s a cycle of self-blame and guilt, and you’re allowing it to dictate your personal life. ”
“I don’t know how not to feel that way,” I said quietly. “Because if something happened…and that led to me not being able to do my job again–”
“Blake, you did your job the first time. Whether that distraction was present or not that day, the outcome would still be the same. What happened to Noah didn’t happen because of you or this said distraction. You’re using it as justification to place the blame on yourself.”
He was right, and I knew it. The proof I used convinced no one but myself. Even so, I didn’t know how to stop seeing it that way, or how to stop convincing myself it would happen again if I let Haley in and truly felt everything for her.
“You need to give yourself some grace. You need to stop punishing yourself. You need to allow yourself to be happy without holding what happened over your own head, even if it comes in baby steps. Just…let yourself give in a little at a time.”
I blew out a slow breath.
A little at a time.