Chapter Forty-Four
Adrian
I t’s been about five hours since Blake stormed out of the clinic. I started to worry about three hours ago, however Tim let me know she was okay. She hadn’t gone home, but both of her parents had her phone’s location and said she was safe.
It still didn’t do anything to calm my nerves though. Not like seeing her standing at my front door, hair wet and face a blotchy red. I hate the sight of her upset, but I love seeing her here.
And a small, selfish part of me can’t help noticing that she didn’t go home. She came here. In the past, if she needed space, I’m not sure where she would go to get away from her parents—I don’t know if she’s ever needed to. With me she has a safe place to land, and it does something to my heart to know she’s actually utilizing it.
“Hey, Storm Cloud,” I quietly greet her.
Her throat bobs and she whispers, “Hi.”
Opening one arm, she easily falls into my embrace as I shut the door with my other one.
“Sorry I just showed up,” she mumbles into my chest.
“You don’t have to apologize. I’ll give you a key if it makes you feel better.” She leans her head back, resting her chin on my chest, to look at me. “I really would.”
She chuckles lightly. “I believe you.’
“I called your parents,” I confess. “I was worried about you.”
Her face falls, washing away the short-lived amusement with guilt. “I should’ve texted you.”
Shaking my head, I tell her, “It’s okay to need space sometimes, Blake. I just worry.”
“I’ll tell you when I need space next time,” she promises.
I lean down to place a soft kiss on her lips. It’s quick and tender, and hopefully exactly what she needs right now. “You hungry?”
She nods. “I was at the gym—well, the pool. It’s usually where I go when I’m feeling anxious.” She slips into one of the stools at the small breakfast bar and watches as I finish getting out the ingredients for the burrito bowl I’d planned to make for dinner, and a few lunches for the week. There’s chicken already in the oven, so I can at least stay closer to Blake while I finish everything else.
“That’s good to know.” I walk to the sink and wash my hands—using the time to think over my next words. When I turn back to the counter across from her, I take a second to fully observe her beauty—getting stuck on those goddamn lightning eyes that haunt me every moment now. “I wouldn’t expect you to take me, but if you ever want to be alone, but not alone, I’m there. I’ll work out while you swim.”
She doesn’t say anything for a while, so I focus on the food, not wanting her to have to wait if she’s hungry. After a minute or two, Blake quietly tells me, “I like when you’re there with me.”
“Me too. I’ll meet you next time then.”
She smiles and finally looks like she’s starting to relax. Her eyes are sad, and I can see that the argument with her dad is still weighing on her. I know this is something we have to talk about—and it’d be good for her— it just feels delicate.
“I know from calling them that you share your location with them, but did you let them know you wouldn’t be going home tonight?” Her eyes drift up to mine, so vulnerable, yet more trusting than I’ve ever seen them. “Assuming you wanted to stay here,” I add.
“I do,” she admits, her voice cracking as her face crumples.
“Blake…” I grab a hand towel, about to move toward her when she stops me with a hand in the air.
“It’ll be easier for me to talk like this… if you come over here and hold me, I probably won’t stop crying.”
And for some reason, that makes me feel like I’ve won the lottery. Like I might actually be Blake’s safe place.
“Okay,” I agree. Picking the knife back up and looking down at the cutting board, hoping it offers her a little more space to say what she needs.
“I’ve never fought with my parents—not really. I mean, I threw temper tantrums as a kid, and I’ve talked back to them. But I’ve never truly been mad at my dad… I just feel so silly and adolescent. I’m embarrassed,” she admits.
“Storm Cloud, I know you think I’m like this perfectly nice guy,” I tease, hoping to ease some more of the tension in her body. A small smile pulls at her lips as she rolls her eyes. I’ll take that as a win. “Honestly I’ve had way worse fights with my parents and Maria, over way stupider things than wanting to help people in need.”
“Really? Like what?”
“Almost everything. What time my curfew was, even though the state has a legal curfew. Being a little jerk who wanted a different first car than the one I got for free. Sneaking out and skipping class because it seemed fun. So many things that were selfish and childish.”
“I guess that makes me feel a little better. What I said to my dad…” She looks away in shame. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get over that. I don’t know if he will get over that.”
“He already has, Blake,” I promise.
“You don’t know that,” she accuses. She steamrolls on before I can tell her that I do in fact know he has. “I didn’t mean it. I know he cares about people—every person he meets. Even every person he hasn’t met but has heard of, or seen on TV, or listened to on the radio. That’s just who my dad is. So for me to insinuate he doesn’t? That was fucking mean, Adrian.” She’s working herself up, starting to breathe harder as she does her best to hold the tears back.
I set the knife back down, not moving and respecting her wishes for me to give her physical space.
“It was mean.” I decide not to sugarcoat it. The shock and possible anger takes her attention temporarily away from her guilt. “But it didn’t come from a place of hate or resentment. It came from a place of passion and empathy. And I know your dad understands that.”
“You don—”
“I do,” I cut her off. “I wanted to immediately go after you except your dad told me I should give you space. So, I stayed to talk to him.”
“Was he rude? Did he say anything?” That earlier protectiveness reaches her expression. It makes me want to smile, but I know now isn’t the time.
“Nah, he wasn’t mean. We had a really honest conversation though, and most of it was about why I need to learn to set these boundaries now rather than later.”
Her nose scrunches in a cute, but sad way. “Boundaries with me?”
“No—I mean, kinda , yes. I have a hard time saying no to you because I just want to make you so fucking happy. You aren’t solely the reason I agreed to help in ways I wasn’t fully comfortable with. I didn’t feel good about leaving someone who needed help either.”
“I shouldn’t have asked you to help though. The whole point of asking you was to not involve my dad. And I see now that it was a really stupid plan.”
“It took Tim pointing it out for me to realize the connection. You aren’t fully to blame here, Blake, and I won’t let you take all the responsibility. I’m a grown man, and I’m going to take care of you as much as you want to do the same for me. That’s non-negotiable in this relationship.”
She’s quiet for a long time, like accepting this is hard for her. She isn’t letting her instincts kick in to deny it, so I can offer her all the time she needs. The oven timer goes off, the only thing breaking the silence between us. It isn’t until I set the pan on the counter that she says, “Okay. We both should’ve thought about the possible consequences.”
“And he’s not mad—I promise—but you will have to talk to him.”
“Let me guess,” she utters, although I hear a slight tone of amusement there. “He’s just really disappointed ?”
Smirking over my shoulder, I tell her, “Exactly.”
She slowly stands and walks around the counter. “Can I help with something?”
I nod and assign her to cutting the avocado and tomatoes. She takes her time washing her hands, seeming to be lost in her own mind. When she settles next to me, getting set up and cutting the tomatoes first, she sighs, “I know I have to talk to him. I’m going to, tomorrow. I just need tonight to get over my embarrassment, and I’m still a little overwhelmed.”
“Makes sense. You’re welcome to stay as long as you need.”
She looks up with more affection than I’ve ever seen from her. “Thanks, Adrian.”
We finish the rest of dinner, mostly in silence, but there’s comfortable conversation when one of us does have something to say. Despite the situation, I’m happy she’s here.
We finally settle on the couch, burrito bowls in hand; chips to scoop for me, while Blake has a tortilla she rips into smaller pieces. I let her choose what to watch, and she settles on one of her god-awful reality shows, but I don’t say anything. The irony that she often complains about how cheesy her mom’s telenovelas are, is not lost on me.
The volume is low, so we make small talk to fill the silence. After a lull, I finally bring up something that’s been weighing on me for most of the afternoon. It feels like something that has been brewing in the back of my mind for a while now, even if I wasn’t fully aware of it.
“So, I was wondering if you’ve thought any more about college,” I say, trying to tread lightly.
She side-eyes me. “I mean, no. I’ve told you that I’ll think about it once I have any semblance of an idea of what I want to do with my life.”
Shrugging a little helplessly, I tell her, “I’m not judging, pretty girl. I just had an idea.”
Cautiously, she turns her body toward me. Balancing her bowl on a knee, she asks, “An idea about me and college?”
“Yeah,” I nod tentatively. “I think there’s an option for you to help more people in a way that benefits your dad’s clinic as well.”
She slowly takes a bite of her food and gives me a disbelieving look yet not shutting me down either. By the end of the conversation, she even seems excited.