Chapter 32 Blake
BLAKE
What in the ever-loving fucking fuck is going on right now?
The thought is a snarl in my head as I stalk back toward the ballroom and try like hell to act like a man who’s pulled off an elegant and expensive fundraiser like the god damn boss I am.
But it’s hard with the sound of Cal’s shoes on the tile behind me and his cologne still wrapped around me, seductive and delicious and distracting.
It’s criminal how good he looks in a tux.
And a bow tie.
The fucker.
He said all the right things, so why am I hesitating?
Please, universe, just give me a sign…
Easier said than done.
I spin to face him, and he jerks to a stop, his hand falling to my hip like it’s the most natural thing in the world—and it used to be. Almost like he can read my mind, he drops it, his hand balling into a fist.
“Sorry,” he murmurs.
“Stop that,” I press, hissing the words so no one else can hear.
His eyes darken as he presses his lips into a thin line. “What am I tonight? Here. Am I your boyfriend or do I just stay along the periphery?”
“How did you even get in here?” I ask, knowing this event was sold out and his name was absolutely not on the guest list.
“Ellison.” Of course. When I grimace, he adds, “If it’s any consolation, she’s not speaking to me. I had to go through Montana.”
Poor Montana, smack-dab in the middle of all the hormones and heartbreak.
But it does make me feel a little better knowing Ellison is pissed on my behalf.
“I’ll introduce you as my date.”
“Okay,” he breathes, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips.
“Just okay?” I press, wanting to get a rise out of him even though I need to get back into the ballroom. There isn’t enough time for games, but I can’t seem to pull myself away.
“More than I expected.”
“Why? In this city, in this fucking ballroom, you belong to me.” The idea that some guy out here tonight might think he could put his hands on Cal, flirt with Cal, has me stepping closer and lowering my voice. “Don’t tempt me. My restraint is razor-thin and you’re walking a very tight rope.”
“I know you mean that as a threat…”
“Cal.”
“I’m sorry.” This time when he says it, the corner of his mouth tilts up. “I don’t want to belong to anyone else. I’m yours.”
That sliver of hope starts to rear up inside me but I shove it down, needing every ounce of focus left in my skull to get through tonight. “Get us a drink and find me. I have to go check on things.”
“Of course,” he breathes, leaning forward to brush a kiss against my cheek, the contact sending a zip of electricity coursing through me. “I’ll find you.”
Nodding once, I take off toward the auction items, needing the break and the space and the racing of my god damn heart to slow.
CAL
ELLISON: Do not blow this
ELLISON: I mean I hope you blow him later but don’t screw it up
ELLISON: Screwing is good too but also later
ELLISON: YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN
The snort of laughter that escapes me is involuntary; the messages mixed with the overall relief of having contact with Ellison threaten to turn that laugh into an all-out sob.
CAL: We are going to get through the gala
CAL: We’re not good but at least he’s talking to me
ELLISON: Do you love him?
ELLISON: Because if you don’t and you break his heart again I will bury you myself and the doctor said I shouldn’t do any heavy lifting yet
CAL: I do but he needs to be the first to hear me say it
ELLISON: That is precious and I almost forgive you
CAL: I don’t know what I’ll do if he doesn’t
ELLISON: You don’t stop until he does
I want to have that kind of conviction, but she wasn’t in that room today. My heart is at war with my head but one thing is certain—Blake Reynolds is worth fighting for.
CAL: I won’t
ELLISON: Well, go and try to enjoy your overpriced dinner while wooing Blake
CAL: Thank you for the pep talk
ELLISON: You can thank me after you bring our boy home. I liked having him in Blackstone Falls.
Me too.
CAL: But he lives in Savannah
ELLISON: He hates Savannah
CAL: I’ll be wherever he wants to be
ELLISON: Well my vote is Blackstone Falls so I’m going to need you to make it happen
CAL: I’ll do my best
The conversation provides a bit of levity, but it’s also the lifeline I’ve been missing. Ellison was my first real friend when I moved to Blackstone Falls, and her absence has been palpable.
I miss her.
And I wish I could turn back time and do better—be better—but maybe that was the point. I needed Blake to leave so I could feel the devastation I caused. I needed to know the difference.
I needed to feel the pain.
Liam’s death wasn’t my fault, but losing Blake would forever be my biggest regret.
He changed me, brought me back to life, and challenged me in a way I’ve never had before. He made me want to be better.
He thought he was living in Liam’s shadow, but wasn’t I? All that time grieving my own life and loss, but I never stopped.
I never had a reason.
And Blake isn’t my reason, per se, but he is the catalyst. The realization feels like the first deep breath I’ve taken since losing Liam. It’s every therapy session and meditative retreat I’ve attended with the hopes of walking out healed and ready to take on the world.
In some ways I have.
But at twenty-nine, I just looked around and accepted that my life was fine and occasionally great.
Maybe that would have been okay, but in this room, teetering on the edge of whether or not I’ll have a second chance with Blake, I’m finally alive again.
And as I give my drink order to the bartender, I decide it’s time to start living.