Chapter 15 #3
“Busy one,” he mutters, eyes still scanning the trees like he’s waiting for a late floater to stumble out.
“Yeah.” I nod.
“You good, buddy?” He asks.
I grunt and he smirks. “You look like you actually got some sleep.”
I pause. “I did… a little.”
“You and Blakelyn… you seen to be getting on very well?” I shoot him a look, and he holds up his hands. “Hey, man, you know I’m not judging. I approve. I wanted you to notice her, remember? Just saying… the whole town’s been waiting for you to notice she’s more than a summer fling.”
I don’t do flings. Summer or otherwise.
And I should have known the whole fucking town was aware of what was happening.
“She’s not a fling.” I mutter.
His eyes flicker and then he nods. “Good.” He doesn’t say anything else, and he doesn’t need to.
We both know how this place works.
People see things.
They talk. They’ve always talked.
I don’t care what they say about me.
But Blakelyn doesn’t deserve to be picked apart by town gossip… not when she’s already been ripped open by someone else.
I end up outside her cabin after dark.
I don’t even remember making the decision to go over.
She opens the door before I even knock… like she was waiting… like she knew.
She doesn’t speak, just opens the screen and stands there in a pair of cotton sleep shorts and a tank top that barely covers her and fuck me if that’s not all it takes to snap my restraint.
I cross the threshold in three strides, slide my hand up her neck, and kiss her like I’ve wanted to since I left her last night.
She melts into me, and then, she whispers, “I want more.”
I freeze but she only looks up at me. She doesn’t back down.
Her amber eyes meet mine and she says, “I’m telling you what I want.
I know I said I wasn’t asking you for anything, but I am now.
This is something. Something real and I want all of it, Gruene.
I want all of you. I don’t want to pretend this is casual.
I don’t want to keep tiptoeing around whatever this is. ”
My throat goes dry and all I can say is, “I don’t know how to give you what you deserve, Blakelyn.”
“Then, just give me you , Gruene . Flawed. Guarded. Grieving. Just… you . That is what I want.”
I stare at her and I realize…
She’s not asking me to be whole.
She’s just asking me to stop hiding the pieces.
I don’t answer her right away.
I just stare at her.
My heart is thudding. My fingers are twitching. Every instinct I’ve sharpened into a blade over the last six years is screaming at me to shut it down, push her away, shut the door and keep breathing like I have since I lost everything but she’s not backing up.
She’s not crying or yelling or demanding anything.
She’s just waiting.
Quiet.
Steady.
When I don’t speak, she reaches for me, lacing her fingers through mine. She says, “Just start with tonight.”
Something inside of me breaks. I nod and close the door behind me, following her into her cabin.
Okay, Blakelyn. I’ll try.
For you… I’ll try because you’re right. This is something real and I don’t want to lose it.
I don’t want to lose you.
We sit on her couch like we’ve done it a hundred times before.
She hands me a glass of iced tea. No whiskey. No expectation. Just cold sweetness and the sound of cicadas through the screen.
“Tell me more about them,” she says after a while. I stiffen and she turns to me, facing me on the couch. “Only if you want to. You’ve told me some things, but I’d like to know more. They were your family, Gruene. They mattered and I’d like to know more about them because you matter to me .”
I stare at the floor, then set the glass down and scrub both hands over my face.
“Molly hated the heat,” I say, finally. “She always bitched about summer. Said she should’ve been born in Maine, but she wasn’t serious.
She’d never have left Texas.” Blakelyn smiles.
“She had this laugh,” I go on. “It wasn’t cute.
It wasn’t polite. It was loud as hell and usually at my expense.
It’s what I noticed when I first saw her.
And it made Aubree giggle, so I kept chasing it.
” I glance over. She’s listening like I’m telling her something sacred.
“She wore these God-awful sandals with flowers on them and made fun of me for being a ‘macho man with a hero complex’ but she always smiled when she said it. And she used to leave little notes everywhere. Grocery lists. Reminders. Jokes. Bible verses sometimes. I used to find them in my toolbox.” My voice cracks.
“She left one the day she died. Taped it to the fridge. Said she wanted chicken for dinner, and we were out of chicken.”
The silence is thick, she doesn’t say anything, but she’s listening, offering comfort…
just waiting. She shifts closer, her hand resting on my thigh.
“And Aubree?” I swallow hard. “She was a perfect baby. She slept through the night from the beginning, and she would light up when she heard my voice or saw me. She loved her momma, but she was a daddy’s girl.
And I would have caught the moon for her.
“She hated bananas but loved carrots. She loved pretty, princess dresses but she would tromp through the river in them. A tomboy in a tiara and sparkles. She had this pair of purple jelly shoes that were so ugly, but they were her favorite. She wouldn’t go anywhere without a stuffed frog she named Pizza.
” Blakelyn smiles, but her eyes are glistening.
“She called me Daddy Frog. Thought it was funny…” I inhale and my teeth grit as grief threatens to suffocate me.
“She was my whole world… they both were…” My voice is ragged.
Tears slip down her cheeks and I have to look away. “You asked,” I say roughly.
“I know. And I’m glad you told me. They both sound amazing, Gruene.”
I nod my head. “They were.”
She shifts into my lap without asking, straddling me. She cradles my face like I’m not poison and whispers, “They were your family, and you loved them. It sounds like they certainly loved you, too.”
My jaw tightens. “They were mine to protect and I failed them.”
“It was a tragic accident, Gruene. You didn’t fail them. You loved them.” I close my eyes.
I hear her. I do. But it doesn’t make me feel any less responsible.
She kisses me. It’s soft, sure, and fucking relentless.
“I see you,” she breathes. “I see the man who survived, not just the one who lost those he loved.”
I lose it. Tears clog my throat before I can stop them, I feel like I can’t breathe. It’s too sharp, too sudden, too close to the surface to hold back. My shoulders shake with the effort. I fail.
She doesn’t flinch. She just pulls me into her chest and holds me through the wreckage.
She hugs me for an hour, smoothing my hair back, and stroking my cheeks. Her lips wipe away the moisture, doing nothing but offering comfort and presence while I let out everything I’ve kept under lock and key for six years.
Then, my lips find hers. She lets me kiss her. She kisses me back with tears still on my mouth. Somehow, we end up in her bed. She whispers, “Gruene, take what you need.”
I groan, “You. I need you. Touch me.”
She peels my shirt off like she’s memorizing me, taking her time, running her hands and her lips over not just my body—but over my scars.
Her lips trail from my shoulder to my hip where the glass carved me open.
She worships the one on my wrist from five years ago, where I tried—once—to join them and changed my mind too late.
She kisses every one of them, leaving no part of me unscathed.
I lock eyes with her as she climbs into my lap, and I lower her onto me. She lets me guide her, here and present, proving she trusts me and I’m something she wants … something she chose.
My hands are on her hips, rocking her over me. Letting her fuck me as she holds me.
She watches me watch her. Her hips pick up pace and she grinds down on me, planting her hands on my chest as she falls apart with my name on her lips and nothing between us.
When I come, it’s with my hands buried in her hair, her skin slick against mine, and a guttural sound I didn’t know I could still make.
It’s not rough. It’s not violent. It’s grieving and healing at once… mixed with something I’m not ready to name yet.
We’re tangled in limbs and the sheets. My chest is under her cheeks. Her fingers trace lazy circles over my ribs. I’m not even sure she knows she’s gliding them over the puckered skin there.
“Why me?” I ask without meaning to. She lifts her head, looking at me. “Why now?”
She blinks. “You mean why you, the man who tried to push me away six hundred different times?”
I huff out a breath, almost chuckling and she smiles.
“Because I’m drawn to you, Gruene. You… call to me…
I care about you. And because… you make me feel safe.
” I go still. “And alive.” She presses her palm over my heart.
I know she feels it racing. “And because the first time you looked at me, I saw a storm you didn’t think anyone could stand inside… and I wanted to.”
I have no words.
None.
So, I just reach for her, holding her tighter and let the silence carry the weight of what neither of us is ready to say out loud.
She kind of did… again… but I can’t… I want to, but I can’t.
It’s there.
It’s fucking there.
But I can’t say it. Not yet.