Chapter 20
TWENTY
Devon
It would have been strange to hear Metallica blaring inside my house when I wasn’t yet home. But Blakely’s car was out front, which was all the explanation I needed.
I pulled into the same spot in the driveway I always did, and the second I cut the engine and opened the door, I heard the music from inside. I grabbed my bags from the back seat and tried to see through the windows as I pushed through the back gate.
But the blinds were tilted in such a way that I couldn’t see Blakely in the kitchen or my mom sitting on the barstool until I opened the back door.
Over the music, they somehow both heard the door open.
The smile my mom was already wearing widened, but Blakely’s went hesitant. I hated that that was her reaction to me. I missed that smile, and after all that time, I would have done anything to see it again.
“You’re home just in time,” my mom hollered over the music. Behind her, Blakely fumbled for the speaker and quickly hit the button to turn the volume down several times .
“In time for what?”
“Veggie lasagna. Blakely was just cleaning up, but it should be ready soon.” She turned and squinted at the oven. “In ten minutes, actually.”
Blakely put her head down and went back to the dishes she’d been cleaning before I interrupted. I stepped inside and set the groceries and flowers I’d bought on the kitchen table.
“Ooh,” Mom said. “For Piper? It’s sweet you’re doing something for Valentine’s Day. Are you going to see her later?”
I nodded, and my mom gave me a look that told me in no uncertain terms that a longer answer was all that would appease her.
I glanced past her at Blakely. Her hands were still in the sink, washing the dishes, but from beneath her dark lashes, she was watching me. The words suddenly felt heavy on my tongue.
Pushing through the uncomfortable sensation, I cleared my throat. “Yes, I’m seeing her later. She works tonight, so I’m going to stop by the hospital.”
Piper was an ER nurse at a hospital downtown, which meant we had to improvise for Valentine’s Day. She was busy saving lives, so I didn’t stop by often, but I figured dropping off flowers and chocolate wouldn’t disturb her too much.
Mom nodded and turned to Blakley. “Blakely, do you have a valentine this year?”
My keys fell from my hand and clattered loudly onto the kitchen table. Both of them looked at me, and I quickly pretended like it wasn’t directly related to the question she’d just asked.
I didn’t want to be present for her answer, but I also couldn’t make myself walk away. It had been my every intention to stop in, say a quick hello, and then go back up to my room to shower and get ready. But my legs wouldn’t let me walk back out the door.
Blakely dropped her eyes back to the sink and shut off the water, grabbing the towel on the edge of the counter to dry her hands. She tugged the mesh sleeves of her black undershirt down, but I could still see the faint outline of the snake tattoo along her forearm and wrist. The one that wrapped around and curved up her arm.
She straightened the AC/DC T-shirt she had on over the black. “I..umm…no, not really.”
My hand clenched around one of the chairs lined up at the table as my mom asked, “Not really? What does that mean?”
Blakely’s eyes flashed back up to mine, and I tried to keep my expression neutral even though I was chomping to hear her response.
“Well, I…umm…” she stuttered, looking back down at the towel in her hands. Her cheeks were slightly pink by the time she said, “Someone did ask me on a date, but I told him no.”
“Tonight? Why did you say no?” My mom nearly leaped off the stool.
Blakely smiled at her enthusiasm. She tucked a loose strand of black hair behind her ear and massaged the back of her neck. Her hands slid into the front pockets of her jeans, and her right hand reappeared with a tube of ChapStick between her fingers.
She applied it and returned it in one swift motion.
“We already had plans. And a first date on Valentine’s Day is a bad idea,” Blakely explained, and the words weren’t completely out of her mouth before my mom was arguing.
“You can always cancel plans with this old woman for a young, hot date. Is he hot?”
Blakely’s eyes flicked to me again, and that time, my mom noticed. My mom glanced over her shoulder like she’d forgotten I was there.
“Sure, he’s…hot,” Blakely said, holding my stare.
“Where did you meet him?”
“At Murphy’s. Devon actually met him, too.” Blakely’s lips tilted in a mischievous smile, and my mom slowly swiveled in her seat.
Her smile nearly matched Blakely’s. “Did you?” she asked .
My eyes bounced between the pair of them, and I grunted in response, immediately knowing who she was talking about. That night was not my finest moment. I’d been distracted the entire time, and it was the woman standing in the middle of my kitchen now that had monopolized my attention.
It had felt foreign yet so right to have her back in the midst of everything. Like she was filling the immense void she’d left.
Only Piper had noticed.
Well, she’d noticed that I was distracted. Thankfully, she hadn’t realized why. And she wasn’t exactly excited that I’d given Blakely a ride to the bar when I’d told her that I had to drive my mom to her friend’s house. Which was why Piper and I drove separately.
I’d apologized and explained the situation to her. I understood how it looked.
But my reaction to seeing Grant and Blakely flirting…it made guilt churn in the pit of my stomach.
“Not a fan?” my mom quipped, and I gave her an incredulous look.
“No, Devon’s his number one fan. He’s thinking of having T-shirts made and everything,” Blakely unexpectedly added.
My mom suppressed a laugh and opened her mouth, probably to ask another probing, leading question. But the timer on the oven chimed in its loud, obnoxious way, and both of their attention shifted to the lasagna.
Saved by the bell.
“Woodworking?” Blakely asked for the third time.
I nodded again and sipped my beer.
The timer had gone off, and I’d used that interruption to excuse myself. Or at least I’d tried.
My mom told me that there was more than enough for me too and that I had time to spare for a quick meal. Blakely’s reaction was a little less obvious when I’d tried to sneak out, but I still caught what I thought might be disappointment.
So, I stayed for dinner. Only it was hours past when we’d started eating, and I hadn’t tried to leave again.
“When did that start?”
“When Mom was in Houston and after I moved into this house.”
Blakely nodded thoughtfully. We were seated at the kitchen table, Blakley at the spot at the head of the table, and I was to her left. My mom was in the kitchen behind me, washing the dishes she refused to let us help with.
“Okay, this isn’t meant the way it’s probably going to sound, but why? I think it’s so cool, but you hadn’t given any inclination that you were interested in it before.”
I was reclined back in the small kitchen chair, my legs stretched out under the table. Blakely leaned forward with her elbows propped on the wood.
“When she was in Houston, I couldn’t be there all the time, especially with Sydney in high school still. So, I needed something to keep myself occupied.”
“Something to fill the time that had otherwise been spent on taking care of other people,” she said quietly, for my ears only.
She was always so perceptive.
“Wait, did you make that table in the entryway by the door?” she asked excitedly.
I inclined my head, suddenly feeling self-conscious. There were several pieces around the house that I’d made. The table in the entryway was one I was proud of. Earlier pieces I’d made were better hidden.
“It’s beautiful, Devon. Really impressive.” Sincerity echoed in her words, and I felt them directly in the center of my chest.
“Do you have a shop or…is that the right word?”
“It is,” I said. “I converted the garage into a shop.”
“Can I see it?” Her excitement still permeated each word. She readjusted further forward in her seat, and underneath the table, her leg brushed against mine. She didn’t immediately pull away.
Her gray eyes softened, and I didn’t move. I couldn’t.
Until Stormy jumped on my lap and nearly made me spill my beer.
“Oh, crap,” Blakely exclaimed with a laugh. “I didn’t know you had a cat.”
“That’s Stormy,” my mom chimed in a little louder from the kitchen. “She only comes out when Devon is here. She could give a crap less about anyone else.”
Stormy brushed up against me and rubbed her head into my chest. I set my beer on the table and gave her the attention the black cat was demanding. I kissed the top of her head and scratched beneath her neck and down her shoulders.
“She’s so cute,” Blakely said, offering Stormy her hand to sniff and inspect. Stormy side-eyed Blakely’s hand for several seconds before she stepped up onto the table and crossed to her. She settled on the edge and allowed Blakely to pet her.
“Oh, looks like she likes you, too,” Mom said.
“She’s very cute,” Blakely muttered. She scratched under Stormy’s chin, and undeterred by the cat, Blakely just peeked around her and continued talking. “Amanda said you’re consulting now?”
I nodded.
“What happened with that start-up?”
I glanced back toward my mom, who was likely still listening but was pretending not to. “I need more flexibility they couldn’t offer, and honestly, working in an office constantly sounded like the worst thing I could ever do again.”
Blakely looked at me like she truly understood that feeling, and she began to say as much before Stormy sprinted off the table like her ass was on fire. Blakely giggled and continued. “When I started working again, I also didn’t want to be in an office, at a desk, working for someone else. I started my own business instead. It’s small—only me and my laptop, but I’m doing a lot of website design and other graphic design work right now.”
The smile that tugged at the corner of my mouth was genuine. I knew Blakely had always wanted to do design, and I was proud of her for finally pursuing it. “That’s amazing, Blake.”
She met my smile with one of her own as my phone vibrated against the kitchen table. I didn’t want to look away from her, but somehow managed to pick it up. When I did, I glanced out the back window and realized how dark it was. The hazy evening sun was completely gone, replaced by faint moonlight.
Glancing down at my phone screen and a text from our group chat, I realized we’d been sitting there for closer to three hours. And I was seriously late for going to see Piper.
I stood from my chair and retrieved my empty beer bottle from the table. “Crap, I should…I should go shower and change,” I said, glancing at the flowers still laying on the other end of the table. I wondered if the words sounded to Blakely as unsure as they did to my own ears.
Blakely followed my line of sight and stood as well. “I should probably get going, too. I didn’t realize the time.”
“Don’t forget,” I said to my mom. “We have that appointment tomorrow morning with?—”
She waved me off and nodded. “I know, I know. Now, go. I’m going to run to the restroom real quick. Say bye before you leave, Blakely.”
Turning back to Blakely, I realized I didn’t know the proper way to tell her goodbye. Two years ago, we wouldn’t have left each other without a hug and a promise to see each other soon. But now everything is different. And saying goodbye made me worry I would never see her again. Because it had happened before.
Blakely made the decision for me. She pushed in her chair, stepped around the table, and lifted her arms to circle them around my neck. The hug was such a surprise that it took me several seconds to understand what she was doing and to hug her back.
I stepped into the embrace and snaked my arms around her waist. She squeezed me tightly, and we both relaxed. Her head wedged between my jaw and my shoulder, and she took a deep breath. I felt the rushed release of her exhale against my neck, and every hair on my body stood on end.
My head dipped, and my lips brushed against her temple. My facial hair was likely rough against her forehead, but she didn’t shy away. I pressed my cheek against the side of her head and felt my heart finally settle into a normal rhythm.
Seconds passed, then a minute. All while I ignored every feeling that undoubtedly bubbled to the surface.
“You should probably go,” Blakely finally said. She extricated herself from my arms and stepped back. Her smile was weak.
“Yeah,” I agreed, taking a step back. Until I was waving to her through the open back door and feeling guilty yet again for the twisting in my gut.