Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Blake loaded Chloe’s equipment into the motorcycle bag he’d borrowed from a friend as she watched, quiet and tense. She’d been the same way all through her family’s Sunday dinner. Her mother had even remarked on her silence, but Chloe simply dismissed it, saying she hadn’t slept well the night before.
Blake had followed her to her apartment on his Harley, refusing to budge when Chloe insisted she could drive herself to the lake. They were evenly matched on stubbornness, so Blake pulled out the “you owe me one” card, forcing her to give in.
He turned to find her on the sidewalk, her arms crossed stiffly. Blake tapped her on the nose, hoping the playful gesture would help her loosen up. “You’re not facing the firing squad here. We’re just going for a ride on my Harley, taking some pictures and having a little talk.”
Her shoulders slumped slightly as she released a sigh. “Fine. You’re right. Today’s conversation is about ten years overdue. Let’s get this over with.”
Blake swallowed heavily as he considered what he’d say. They’d only dated for three months all those years ago. When he thought of it that way, it blew him away. Those ninety days had had a huge impact on his life.
Problem was he’d been a jackass when he was younger, too embarrassed by his home life to come clean to his pretty little girlfriend. He’d painted a picture of some badass guy who went through life with no regard for following rules or obeying authority figures. It was easier to pretend he didn’t care what anyone thought of him than admit to Chloe how much he wanted her to look at him and see someone who was worthy of her love and respect.
He placed a helmet on Chloe’s head, helping her with the strap before putting on his own. Then he threw his leg over the bike and gestured for her to hop on. The second her thighs rested against his, Blake felt himself transported back to the first time they’d ridden together. He’d watched her and her friends studying in the back corner of the sub shop where he worked for several weeks, his gaze constantly drawn to her bright blue eyes and her loud, infectious laugh.
Most of the time, Blake lived in a rundown apartment on the wrong side of town. That was whenever his dad didn’t drink the rent money. During bad times, they crashed on the dirty floors of neighbors or even on the street. There weren’t too many happy people in his world and Blake felt as if he were constantly wading through a sea of misery.
Chloe was the complete opposite of all that. She was light and sunshine and fresh air and laughter—all rolled into one beautiful package.
Blake fired up the engine on his Harley, loving the way Chloe leaned into him, pressing her breasts against his back. He weaved his way carefully through city traffic, glad when they hit Interstate 10. Blake pointed the nose of the bike toward the west and pulled back on the throttle.
Blake was never more at peace than when he was on his motorcycle. Sometimes it felt as if the roar of the engine was the only thing that could drown out his bad memories. He’d recognized that the first time he straddled a Harley. The feeling of peace the bike gave him hadn’t waned since.
Chloe’s grip tightened around his waist, but he didn’t give way, didn’t slow down. He knew her, knew she loved this feeling of flying as much as he did. It was another way they were alike, in synch. Sometimes it amazed him how many similarities he and Chloe shared, given their completely different upbringings.
For nearly an hour, it was just the two of them, soaking up the sunshine and the silence while letting the wind blow all the hurt away. Blake didn’t pretend that pain wouldn’t resurface, that the next few hours wouldn’t be difficult. He’d never talked about his past or his father. Ever. But complete honesty was the only chance he had at possibly regaining Chloe’s trust. And maybe even her love.
He’d bare his soul to the world if it meant getting her back.
Once they turned on Old 51 Highway, the traffic all but disappeared and soon, they arrived. Blake parked in such a way that Chloe could capture him and the bike with the picturesque view in the background.
She studied his choice and nodded approvingly. “This will work.”
She removed the helmet and started to retrieve her equipment from the bag. Glancing up at the sky, then back at him, she gestured toward the sun. “We’ll have to work fast in order to take advantage of the light.”
He helped her set up the tripod, then moved the bike a couple inches this way or that as she tried to line up the perfect shot. Once she had the position she wanted, she pointed to his shirt. “Some guys have taken their shirts off completely, others have just unbuttoned them and left them hanging open. The musician wore an open vest with his jeans. It’s up to you. Whatever your comfortable with.”
Blake stripped off his shirt without hesitation. With his chest bare, the badge he’d hung from his jeans showed better. They’d discussed whether or not he should wear his gun belt, but decided against it.
Chloe rolled her eyes at his quick disrobing.
“You didn’t really expect me to be shy, did you?”
She shook her head, then bent down to fiddle with her camera. Blake was unnerved by her continued silence. Apart from discussing the photo shoot, she hadn’t engaged in any real conversation. He’d let her get away with that until their work was finished. After that, all bets were off.
She snapped a couple of shots she called testers then nodded approvingly at whatever she saw in the viewfinder. “The crash point on this setup is amazing.”
“Crash point?”
“Sorry. Photography slang. It’s just an expression someone used in one of my classes once that stuck with me. Basically, it has to do with symmetry and the rule of thirds. You are the crash point. Everything in this image draws the viewer’s eye to you.”
She didn’t bother to explain further. Instead, he stood, turning this way and that as Chloe worked her magic with the camera. He was no stranger to being her model. He’d posed for countless pictures that summer so long ago. She had been enrolled in her first photography class and was obsessed with applying everything she’d learned, dragging him along any time she needed a model.
Then he considered her term. They were at a crash point. Everything that had happened in their pasts had put them on this course, until now…all that was left was this moment and the truth.
Blake tried to put all that away, focusing on Chloe’s instructions, letting her call the shots. He teased her about it, saying he’d never noticed her dominatrix tendencies. She pretended to crack a whip, then continued to take pictures.
All too soon, she decided she’d captured exactly what she needed. She appeared pleased, but that look passed quickly, replaced by one of reticence, nervousness.
Once they’d finished packing all the equipment away, Blake locked the bag, securing it to the bike.
“Walk with me.” He held out his hand.
Chloe hesitated and he feared she’d refuse. He raised his eyebrows, silently pleading with her to give him a chance to explain.
She sighed. “Okay.”
She accepted his proffered hand and they walked along the shore, listening to the sound of the water repetitively slapping against the bank. It was quiet for a Sunday afternoon in May. The weatherman had forecasted a late-day shower, so Blake could only assume the threat of impending weather had kept most people away.
He led her to a private spot then gestured at the grass. “Wanna sit down for a while?”
She nodded and plopped down on the soft ground. He joined her and they looked out over the lake.
Crash point , Blake thought once more. It was time. “You asked me why I left. I didn’t have a chance to answer.”
Chloe turned her head, looking back the way they’d come. He’d become very good at reading body language during his years on the force. Every fiber of Chloe wanted to run, to escape. But—in typical fashion—his brave woman resisted the urge. She faced him once more.
“So tell me.”
“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, Chloe.”
She rolled her eyes, clearly thinking he intended to charm his way out of answering.
“I mean it. When you grow up the way I did, well, let’s just say, I wasn’t all that familiar with women who smiled and laughed and were so genuinely honest.”
A crease formed in Chloe’s brow. “You never told me about your childhood. You just said you lived with your dad.”
He nodded. “Do you know why I volunteered to pose for this calendar?”
She gave him an impish grin. “Because you drew the short straw?”
“I spent one Christmas in the Blessing House. A social worker found me and my dad living on the street. It was one of those rare, cold-ass winters in New Orleans. She told us about the house, said we could go there for the holiday. My dad told the woman to mind her own business. Actually, I think his exact words were ‘Fuck off, bitch’ but she didn’t listen to him. She just handed me a flyer with the address to the house. Promised me I’d be warm and there’d even be presents.”
“How old were you?”
Now that he’d opened the vault to his past, Blake found too many memories coming at him too fast. Maybe that was good. He could keep the emotions at bay because there wasn’t time to process them. “Eleven. After she left, my dad fell into a bottle of whiskey and passed out. It was cold as shit that night. So, I covered my old man up with my blanket and walked nearly two miles in the dark until I found the address of the Blessing House. I’d been lied to by nearly every adult I’d ever met, so when I knocked on the door, I was more than ready to run in case it was a trap.”
“A trap?”
He shrugged. “My dad wasn’t the most law-abiding citizen. He’d taught me at a young age to always be on the lookout for the law.”
“He told you the police were the bad guys?”
Blake nodded.
“And yet you joined the force.”
He grinned sadly. “It seemed like the best way to stick it to my old man. The guy was a fucking asshole in case you haven’t figured that out yet.”
Chloe didn’t reply. His words had come out too bitter, too strong. Most folks would have accepted that at face value. She didn’t. “He was still your dad.”
“I know. I spent one night in the Blessing House, watching all the other kids—some with folks, some without—and in the morning, there was a present for me and I got a holiday meal.”
“Sounds nicer than the street.”
Blake lifted one shoulder. “I guess. I didn’t stick around. I left the toy I’d gotten—some plastic fire truck—stole a bunch of food from the kitchen and a couple of blankets and took off.”
“You went to find your dad.”
Blake picked up a blade of grass, pressing it between his thumb and forefinger. “Yeah. I got worried about him being hungry.”
Blake looked out over the lake. He hated trudging up all this old shit. It didn’t change anything. His jaw tensed as he fought to beat back the anger. After several deep breaths, he was able to center himself again.
Chloe didn’t seek to fill the silence with questions. She let him find his way through the story at his own pace. He appreciated that she didn’t push him for more.
“I always took care of him. He was an alcoholic. He couldn’t hold down a job for more than a few days at a time.”
“So you became the caregiver.”
He nodded. “Yeah. I guess so.”
“It was the same for Zac and Noah. They kept the house as clean as they could while their mom was strung out. Zac made sure Noah did his homework, got something for dinner, put him in bed at a reasonable hour. Parents shouldn’t do that to their kids.”
Blake turned to face her. He’d avoided looking at her for fear of seeing pity in her eyes. There were a lot of things he could take from her, but sympathy wasn’t one. What he saw instead was anger. Strangely that helped. Made Blake feel like they were on the same page. “I’m not making excuses for what I did, Chloe. I’m not playing the poor pitiful me card. My dad was a lousy excuse for a person, but the choices I made were mine. Right or wrong, I can’t blame him for what I did. All I can do is hope to make you understand why I stole the money, why I left.”
She reached out and took his hand in hers, giving it an encouraging squeeze. “So tell me about that night.”
“We’d told your mother we were going to the movies, but we actually snuck into that old shed behind your girlfriend’s house.”
Chloe laughed. “Her family was on vacation. You brought those sleeping bags and threw them on the floor. You’d bought a rose and scattered the petals on them. I thought it was all completely romantic.”
He was glad she remembered that part of the night with fondness. “We were pretty damn horny most of the time.”
“God,” she joked. “That’s a mild word for it. We were ravenous, insatiable. We couldn’t walk three steps without touching and we couldn’t touch without it sparking something hotter.”
“I remember. We did it in two public restrooms, the backseat of your brother’s car, no less than half a dozen times around this lake and God only knows where else.”
“We were young. For me, sex was new. Sometimes, when I looked at you, it was almost painful how much I wanted you.”
He understood that. He’d felt the same way back then. Hell, he’d felt that way since bumping into her two weeks ago. He went to bed every night with a physical ache caused by longing.
“You had to be home by midnight, but we were a little late.”
Chloe nodded. “We were a lot late. I used the hidden key under the mat in the backyard, thinking I could sneak in through the back door in the kitchen.
“But Mama Lewis was sitting there, waiting for you. I was surprised that she didn’t yell at us. Whenever I pissed my dad off, the whole neighborhood knew. He’d cuss me up one side and down the other, then finish it off with a punch or two.”
Chloe winced. “My mother never hit me or my brothers. And she said yelling was never a good way to express an opinion.”
“Yeah. She just looked at us and said she was disappointed. She explained how worried she’d been that we’d been in an accident. How much it would kill her to lose you. I swear I felt way worse after that conversation than I ever did when my dad yelled at me.”
“Punishment through guilt and disappointment,” Chloe said. “I totally intend to use it with my kids. It’s very effective.”
They laughed together quietly. Then Chloe sobered up. “You came back that night. You knew where we hid the key.”
Blake nodded. “When I got back to my apartment, the neighbor was waiting for me. Said my dad had been arrested for getting into a fight. I figured he’d gotten drunk and punched some guy at a bar. It had happened before and the cops just made him sleep it off in the drunk tank, then sent him home the next day. The neighbor said this time was different. He said my dad was in real trouble and he needed money for bail. I dug through all my hiding spots, but I could only come up with about fifty bucks. I didn’t have anyone else to ask.”
“You didn’t ask.” There was no tone of accusation, just the statement of fact. He hadn’t asked. He’d simply taken.
Blake blew out a long breath, then decided fuck it. He’d gone this far. It was time to say it all. “You’re right. I didn’t. I got back to your place. All the lights were out. Everybody was asleep. I used the key and I swear to you, I was going to sneak up to your room to see if you could loan me money, but…”
“But?” she prompted.
“I’d have to tell you why I needed it and I didn’t want you to know my dad was a drunk loser in jail.”
“Why not?”
“I was embarrassed. You were the best thing that had ever happened to me and the entire time we dated, I knew I didn’t deserve you.”
Chloe scowled. “That’s bullshit.”
He gave her a crooked grin. “I was a stupid nineteen-year-old kid. I’m not saying I was the sharpest tool in the shed. All I had going for me was my Harley, a lousy dead-end job in a sub shop and my pride. None of those things seemed like enough to keep a girl like you interested. I was in love with you, Chloe, and terrified of fucking everything up. Which I did anyway.”
“So you walked into the house…” she began.
“Your mother’s purse was on the kitchen table. Stealing wasn’t exactly a new thing for me. I rifled through her wallet and found a couple hundred bucks. I was about to leave when I remembered the silver platter in the hutch in the dining room and I grabbed it too. And then I ran. You know, I’ve been wondering. How did you all know it was me who took the money?”
“You’d tucked some of those rose petals in your pocket before we left the shed. A few of them must have fallen out. I wouldn’t have thought anything about it because you’d been in the kitchen when Mama found us sneaking in. But there were a couple by the hutch as well.”
“Guess it’s a good thing I became a cop. I clearly suck at covering my tracks as a thief.”
Chloe smiled at his joke. “What happened after you left?”
“All hell broke loose.”
“What do you mean?”
“I waited for the pawn shop to open the next morning. Took in your mom’s platter and got a few hundred bucks for it. Then I went to the police station and bailed my dad out. I was stressing out over how I was going to find the money to buy the platter back. It was worth more than I realized. Anyway, my dad was in deep shit with some shady guys. He’d agreed to deliver some package, but he didn’t.”
“What was in the package?”
“Drugs. Never figured out if he sold them himself or had one hell of a party, but the package was gone and the guys wanted it or the money it would have brought in sales. They confronted my dad in the parking lot of a bar. Gave him a pretty good beat down. They took off when the cops showed up, but not before they told Dad he had twenty-four hours to produce the drugs or the money.”
“Why was he arrested?”
Blake snorted, the sound betraying a bitterness he didn’t like to show. “Even bloodied, my dad was a mean drunk. He took a swing at one of the cops. When they ran his name through the system, they found out he had some outstanding warrants. The second I sprung him from jail, he started making plans.”
“What kind of plans?”
A rumble of thunder distracted them. Blake looked up at the sky. Afternoon was quickly turning to dusk and dark clouds were forming. Apparently the weathermen had been right. A storm was coming. They’d need to head back to the bike soon or risk getting wet. As it was, Blake wasn’t sure they’d make it to the city before the rain started falling.
“Can we finish this at your place?”
Chloe looked up as well. He got the sense she wanted to finish what they’d started, but even she could see that wasn’t going to happen here. “Sure.”
Her tone gave him no hint to her feelings. Blake stood then offered her a hand. He didn’t release it as they started walking back to his Harley. She didn’t try to pull away. It gave him hope.
The ride back to Chloe’s place felt less peaceful than the trip to the lake. For one thing, Blake couldn’t put the bad memories away. Dredging up the past bothered him more than he’d expected. For years, he’d felt on top of his game, certain he’d kicked all the crap from his childhood to the curb. Clearly, he hadn’t.
Secondly, the rain hadn’t held off. They’d just made it to the city limits when the sky opened up. By the time they reached Chloe’s apartment, they were drenched from head to toe. He halfway expected her to tell him to take a hike. The afternoon by the lake had taken its toll and now they were cold and wet.
Instead, she pulled off her helmet, laughing as she lifted her face to the rain. “That was incredible. I couldn’t decide if I was having fun or scared out of my wits. How could you see the road? That was a deluge.”
He looked at her, raindrops sliding down her rosy cheeks, and felt like a two-ton truck had hit him. He grasped her face in his hands and, heedless of the storm that continued to pound down on them, he kissed her.
Chloe didn’t resist. She simply wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back. Their tongues tangled as he ran his fingers through her hair. She pressed her chest closer to his, sharing her body warmth. He had no idea how long they stood on the city sidewalk, letting the rain pummel them as they kissed, but Blake could have stayed there forever.
Finally, common sense reared and he took a step back. “I know I said that motorcycle bag is waterproof, but we probably shouldn’t tempt fate. You’ve got some expensive equipment in there.”
She nodded as he unhooked the bag and threw the strap over his shoulder. She carried their helmets, leading the way upstairs to her apartment.
“You can put that bag over there.” She pointed to the corner of her studio. “I’ll go grab some towels from the bathroom.”
Blake set the bag down then hovered by the door. He was dripping all over her hardwood floors.
Chloe was back within seconds with an armload of fluffy towels. “Why are you standing there?”
He gestured at the puddle forming around his feet. “Didn’t want to ruin your floor.”
Chloe shrugged. “It’s just water. It’ll dry. Here.” She held out a towel.
He crossed the room and took it from her. He ran it over his hair and face, then started undoing the buttons of his shirt. Chloe watched, making no move to stop him. Once he’d shrugged the clinging cotton off, she was there, rubbing all the water away with a towel.
When she finished, Blake reached for the hem of her t-shirt and tugged it over her head. Then he dried her as well. She sucked in a soft breath when he reached around her, unhooking her bra and adding it to the pile of wet clothing at their feet. He took his time, drying her breasts, loving the way her cold nipples budded even more at his touch.
Chloe reached for the button on his jeans and slowly slid the zipper down. He toed off his boots, chuckling as Chloe cursed in her struggles to strip the wet denim away. She followed the stubborn material down, kneeling before him as she gestured for him to lift one foot, then the other. She peeled off his socks as well.
She made no attempt to rise. “Still go commando, I see.”
He cupped her face in his palm, forcing her to look at him. “You’re beautiful.”
She gave him a wicked grin. “You’re just trying to sweet talk me into giving you a blowjob.”
He laughed. “Well, since you’re down there anyway, it seems like a shame to—” His jest was cut short when Chloe grasped his cock, taking the head into her mouth without hesitation.
His hands flew to her hair. “Jesus, Chloe. I was kidding.”
She didn’t release him, just sucked him harder, deeper. Blake struggled to catch up. He’d been emotionally done in when they’d left the lake, then stressed out as he’d tried to get them home safely on the motorcycle during the storm. Now he was standing in Chloe’s apartment, her lips wrapped around his cock, and his brain was scrambled, fried.
She cupped his balls in one palm, her other wrapped around the base. He recalled the first time she’d given him a blowjob. She’d dragged him into the back storeroom of the sub shop one night after closing and shocked him by asking him to teach her how to suck his dick.
Given the way she was driving him to the peak right now, he’d say she’d learned her lesson well. Increasing her speed, she took him deeper and deeper into her mouth with each pass. The head of his cock brushed the back of her throat. He tightened his grip on her hair, trembling slightly when she groaned, the vibrations adding another dimension to the blowjob.
“Chloe.”
She looked up at him, her expression the perfect blend of mischief and dare. She’d turned the tables on him, grasping control, and now she was challenging him to take it back. If he hadn’t been so mentally exhausted he would have called her to task immediately, pulling her over his knees.
Somehow she’d known. Known what he needed to make it through the next part. And she’d given it freely.
He tugged her hair more roughly than before. Chloe moaned again, her eyes closing in bliss. Her desire fueled his, gave him back the strength that had been waning. It wasn’t time for this. Not yet. There was still more to say.
He pushed her mouth away. Chloe frowned and started to protest, but he put a firm finger beneath her chin, forcing her face up. “No. Not this way.”
Blake lifted her slowly then placed his lips on hers. For several moments, they simply kissed. Then he moved, resting his forehead against hers. She shivered and he realized she was still wearing her wet jeans.
“Take off your pants. We need to get you dry and warm.”
Chloe moved away only a few steps, slipping her own jeans off as Blake watched. She didn’t have a shy bone in her body—never had—so her disrobing became part seduction. She turned her back to him before sliding the denim over her hips. She tugged her panties down at the same time, so when she bent forward to draw the material over her feet, he was treated to a bird’s-eye view of her perfect ass.
Before he could think better of it, he reached over and slapped it. Chloe gasped—the sound more surprise than pain—then she grasped her ankles. “Do that again.”
He considered making her beg. They had only started to explore their sexual kinks when he’d stolen that money and left town. Even so, he had recognized Chloe’s desire for pain, her love of rough play and her need to be dominated. He’d spent too many lonely nights, jacking off in bed as he imagined all the ways he would have taken her if life hadn’t thrown them the curveball.
Now, all those fantasies came rushing to the surface. He would make them a reality. But first…
He grasped her gently by the elbow and helped her up. She turned, confusion briefly flashing across her face before she understood.
“I’m sorry, Blake. I…”
He tugged her into his arms, holding her tightly. “I get the same way around you. I lose all sense of control. I just need to try to make things right between us before we let this go any further.”
She nodded. “I agree.”
He led her to the couch and they sat down together side by side. Chloe tugged an afghan from the ottoman and spread it out over top of them. It was cozy and warm.
“You said your dad was making plans after you bailed him out. To do what?”
“He was in big trouble with the drug pushers. We went back to our place and he started packing up our stuff. Within half an hour, we were back on the street. I’d worked at that crummy sub shop for nearly three years after school, saving enough money to buy my motorcycle. My dad went out that afternoon and stole one. By noon, we were on the highway, speeding away from New Orleans.”
“Just like that?”
Blake rubbed the back of his neck. He’d spent countless hours trying to figure out why the hell he’d followed his father so easily, why he hadn’t fought to stay. “I’d stolen from your mother, Chloe. I couldn’t figure out a way to make that right.”
“You could’ve explained it to me, Blake.”
He lifted one shoulder. “I know. But my dad…”
“He couldn’t stay in New Orleans. And you couldn’t leave him.”
“That was the biggest mistake I made that day. I chose to stay with the wrong person.”
Chloe fell silent. Blake wasn’t sure what else to say. At this point, the ball was in her court. Either she would forgive him. Or she wouldn’t.
“You’ve been back in New Orleans for almost six years?”
He nodded.
“Did you come back to town with your dad?”
“No. My dad and I split ways about two years after we left.” Blake didn’t tell her about the near-rape or the fight. That was a story he’d take to his grave. “I’d been on the force nearly three years before I realized he’d come back to New Orleans too. Got a call when I was on duty. Drunk and disorderly. I walked into the bar in my uniform and sure enough, there he sat.”
“That must have been an uncomfortable reunion.”
Blake snorted. “You can’t even imagine.”
“Did you arrest him?”
Blake shook his head. “No. I drove him back to his place. Crazy asshole was actually proud of me for joining the force.”
“Really?” Chloe asked. “I thought he hated cops.”
“He’s a twisted bastard. He believed he could use my position to cover up his crimes.”
Chloe winced. “Wow.”
“I pretended he could.”
Her eyebrows rose. “What? Why?”
Blake had never admitted his reasons before. He wondered if Chloe would change her mind about him if she learned exactly how manipulative he was. “Entrapment. I set up a mini-sting with my captain. Pretended to be in cahoots with my father while gaining information about a local drug ring. I knew my dad hadn’t changed his ways and I figured he’d be useful. He was.”
“That couldn’t have been easy for you.”
Blake leaned his head against the back of the couch. “You’d be surprised.”
She scowled. “Don’t. Stop playing the tough guy. You put your dad in jail. And even if he was an asshole, he was the only parent you’d ever had.”
Blake wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her head to his chest. “The world is simpler when you look at it in black and white. If you start adding color into the equation…”
“Is that why you’ve never called me?”
Blake wasn’t sure how to respond, so he stalled. “What?”
“You’ve been back in New Orleans for years. You saw my book. You knew I was still here. Why didn’t you call me?”
She sounded so genuinely hurt, it made Blake’s chest ache. “I didn’t think you’d forgive me.”
She lifted her head. “You were wrong.”
He gave her a tentative grin, hope blossoming. “So you do forgive me?”
She shook her head.
His brow creased. “You don’t?” For a moment, he felt lost. If she couldn’t understand his reasons for stealing the money, everything they once had was truly lost.
“It doesn’t matter if I forgive you, Blake. I’m pretty sure I stopped being mad at you the second my mother said you paid her the money back. I wouldn’t have had sex with you otherwise.”
He felt the urge to laugh, but his gut told him something was still wrong.
Chloe cupped his cheek in her hand. “It’s not my forgiveness that matters. You have to forgive yourself, Blake. You stayed away because you were trying to do penance, right?”
Her words hit him like a ton of bricks. Had he done that? Had he let guilt for his actions stop him from searching for her, for happiness? For love? “I’m not sure what to say.”
Chloe gave him a wicked grin that told him exactly how much of a fool he’d been to stay away. “You could always start with ‘You’re right’.”
He chuckled. “I’m pretty sure I’d be smart to use those words sparingly.”
She gave him a light punch on the arm. “Blake.”
“You’re right, Chloe. I’ve been letting guilt guide my decisions. I was wrong to do that.”
Chloe leaned closer and kissed him, showing him with actions rather than words that all truly was forgiven between them. It was a gift Blake had never let himself hope for.
For the first time in six years, he felt like he’d truly come home.