Chapter 5 #2
Blaze looked far too pleased with himself.
“Still dramatic over dessert.”
Johanna pointed her fork at him. “Don’t ruin this experience.”
His grin widened. Goodness. That grin should be federally regulated.
They shared the slice of cake while conversation drifted easier now.
Safer.
Until Blaze asked quietly:
“Why’d you stop answering my calls?”
Johanna froze.
There it was. The question waiting beneath the entire evening.
The restaurant suddenly felt quieter. Smaller.
Blaze’s gaze stayed steady on hers.
Johanna set her fork down carefully. “Because every time the phone rang, I hoped it was you coming home.”
Blaze went still.
“And after a while…” Her voice softened. “I got tired of being disappointed.”
Pain moved quietly across his face.
Real pain.
“Jo—”
“You left.” The words slipped out before she could soften them. Years of heartbreak tucked inside two simple words.
Blaze leaned back. His jaw tightened. “I know.”
Johanna looked toward the ocean because suddenly looking at him felt too vulnerable. “You promised me distance wouldn’t change anything.”
“Because I believed it.”
She laughed softly.
Silence stretched heavier now.
Real.
When Blaze finally spoke, his voice was rougher. “You think leaving you was easy for me?”
Johanna looked back at him and immediately wished she hadn’t. Because the emotion in his eyes hit too hard.
“I spent years trying to become somebody worthy of what we had,” he admitted quietly. “And by the time I figured out I already had it… you were gone.”
Her breath caught.
The ocean crashed outside. Soft jazz drifted overhead. But suddenly all Johanna could hear was her own heartbeat. Because Blaze wasn’t flirting anymore.
He was telling the truth.
And the terrifying thing was… she believed him.
Blaze looked down briefly before meeting her gaze again. “I’m not asking you to forget what happened.”
His voice stayed calm and sincere. “But I’m asking you not to pretend we weren’t real.”
Johanna’s eyes burned unexpectedly.
Because that was the problem.
They had been real.
The kind of love that rooted itself deep enough to cause heartbreak.
The ocean stretched endlessly and dark beyond the restaurant windows while moonlight spilled silver across the restless water. Candlelight flickered softly between them, catching the sharp planes of Blaze’s face every time he moved.
Johanna suddenly couldn’t breathe properly.
Not after what he’d just said.
Not after hearing the truth laid bare so plainly in his voice.
“I’m not asking you to forget what happened.”
“But I am asking you to stop pretending we weren’t real.”
That man had always known exactly how to reach inside her defenses and pull at the softest places.
Johanna lowered her eyes to the half-empty wine glass in her hand because her emotions suddenly felt too exposed sitting this close to the surface.
The problem with Blaze had never been attraction. Chemistry between them had always existed, dangerous and undeniable from the beginning. Love had never been the issue either. The real problem was that Blaze made her feel everything too deeply.
And after he left Sheraton Beach, she spent years teaching herself how not to.
Outside, the coastal wind picked up hard enough to rattle the decorative lanterns hanging along the restaurant patio.
Neither of them spoke for several seconds, but the silence didn’t feel awkward. The weight of the moment settled between them instead, heavy with a past and things left unresolved too long.
Finally, Johanna exhaled softly. “You know what made me angriest?”
Blaze’s eyes never left her face. “What?”
“That you left…” Her voice wavered slightly before she steadied it. “And somehow I still understood why you had to.”
Pain crossed his face instantly.
Real pain.
Not defensive irritation or wounded pride. The emotion looked older than that. Regret lived there, worn deep enough to leave marks.
“Jo—”
“No.” She shook her head gently. “Let me finish.”
Blaze reared back and gave her the space without interrupting again.
That alone nearly unraveled her.
In the past, Blaze would have argued his side immediately. Younger Blaze had always fought hard for what he wanted, especially with her. This version listened first, and somehow that maturity affected her more than charm ever could.
Johanna swallowed hard before continuing.
“You had dreams,” she said quietly. “And I loved you enough not to ask you to stay.”
Blaze stared at her while candlelight sharpened the tension gathering along his jaw.
“But that doesn’t change what it felt like after you were gone.”
The confession settled softly between them. Years of hurt tucked carefully inside calm words.
Blaze rubbed one hand across his chin before speaking.
“When I left Sheraton Beach, I thought I was searching for something that this town couldn’t offer me.”
Johanna looked at him again. “I know.”
“That’s the worst part.” His voice roughened slightly. “You always understood me too well.”
Something fragile moved through her chest after that because he was right.
Johanna had always understood Blaze, even during the years she tried hardest not to.
Her anger never erased the truth of who he was to her.
She understood him while crying herself to sleep at night, and she understood him after she stopped answering his calls because hearing his voice hurt too much.
Some stubborn part of her still understood exactly why he left Sheraton Beach in the first place.
Blaze leaned forward until his forearms rested near the edge of the table.
“Look at me, Jo.”
The low command slid through her instantly, calm, masculine, and utterly certain. Her eyes lifted before she could stop herself, and there it was again, that steady focus that always made her feel seen all the way through.
“I never stopped loving you.”
Her breath caught sharply.
The restaurant disappeared around her after that. The ocean, the music, and even the candlelight. Everything faded except the truth sitting openly in Blaze’s eyes.
“No matter where I was,” he said quietly.
Emotion tightened painfully through her chest. “Braxton…”
“No.” His voice stayed soft but firm. “You don’t get to sit across from me acting like this was one-sided.”
Heat rushed instantly through her body because he was right. And the infuriating thing about Blaze had always been that he knew exactly when he was right.
His eyes dropped briefly to her mouth before returning to hers. “You still feel this too.”
Not a question. Certainty.
The confidence in his voice made her pulse stumble.
Johanna tried for composure and failed completely. “You’re very sure of yourself tonight.”
A slow smile touched his mouth. “Only about you.”
She swallowed. That answer should’ve been illegal.
The waiter approached quietly with the check, clearly sensing the emotional intensity at the table and wanting absolutely no involvement in whatever existed between them.
Blaze paid without even glancing at the total.
Johanna noticed.
Back then they used to split milkshakes because neither of them had enough money for two. Blaze once took her to the state fair with thirty-seven dollars in his wallet and still somehow made her feel like the richest girl alive.
Now he moved through the world differently. More settled, more grounded, and far more certain of who he was. Somehow, that only made him more dangerous.
By the time they stepped outside, the temperature had dropped several degrees. Ocean wind lifted loose curls around Johanna’s face while lanterns glowed softly along the path leading toward the overlook above the beach.
The sound of waves crashing nearby filled the silence between them.
Blaze walked beside her, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him without touching her. He never crowded her space or pushed too hard. Blaze simply remained present in a way that felt deliberate now.
Steady.
That steadiness unsettled her more than uncertainty ever had.
When they reached the overlook, Johanna stopped walking. The view stretched endlessly below them. Dark water rolled beneath silver moonlight while soft music drifted faintly from the restaurant patio behind them.
The entire scene felt beautiful and entirely too intimate for her emotional well-being.
Johanna wrapped her arms loosely around herself. “This was a mistake.”
Blaze stopped beside her immediately.
“No,” he said quietly. “It isn’t.”
A soft laugh escaped her, fragile around the edges.
“You saying that doesn’t magically make this easier.”
“I know.”
The honesty in his voice landed harder than reassurance would have.
Johanna stared out toward the water.
“I spent years trying to get over you.”
Beside her, Blaze went completely still.
“And?”
The question came low and careful.
Johanna closed her eyes briefly before looking at him again.
Big mistake.
Blaze was watching her with the same intense focus that used to undo her at seventeen, then again at twenty-two, and somehow still did at thirty-two.
Time had never changed the way he looked at her.
Like she mattered.
Her chest tightened painfully.
“And sitting here right now…” she admitted softly, “feels entirely too easy.”
Relief shifted visibly across Blaze’s face after that.
Real enough to affect her.
He stepped closer, slow enough to give her every opportunity to pull away.
Johanna didn’t move.
The cold wind curled around them while moonlight caught the warm brown in his eyes.
Blaze lifted one hand carefully before brushing his knuckles along her jaw.
The tenderness of the touch wrecked her instantly.
Warm fingers against suddenly fragile emotions.
Johanna inhaled sharply.
Blaze’s gaze dropped to her mouth.
“Tell me to stop.”
His voice sounded rougher now, lower than before, like restraint actually cost him something.
That realization did uncontrollable things to her.
Because Blaze wasn’t careless with her heart. He wasn’t pushing or manipulating this moment.
He was choosing control.