Chapter 31
Ethan
The next morning, I wake up feeling on top of the world. The soft light of dawn filters through the curtains, casting a gentle glow on Blake’s bare shoulder and the side of her face as she sleeps beside me. Her expression is serene, freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks, framed by tousled red hair. For a moment, everything feels perfect.
My phone vibrates on the nightstand, cutting through the silence. Frowning, gently sliding out of bed, careful not to wake Blake as I scoop up my phone. Bandit pads quietly behind me as I head to the living room, the early morning stillness wrapping around us.
“Hello?” Holding the phone to my ear, keeping my voice low.
“Hey, it’s Patrick.” His tone is grim, and I instantly know it’s bad news.
“What’s going on?” I’m already bracing myself. “It’s not like you to be up this early.”
“There’s been a breach,” Patrick says, ignoring my jab. “The booms across the wetlands broke, and oil slated for clean up this week has leaked in. It’s looking bad.”
I let out a slow breath, trying to keep my frustration in check. “What does this mean for us?”
“What we thought was a small job is going to be a lot bigger and harder.”
I walk over to the back door and let Bandit out, leaving it open for him. He trots off into the yard, glancing back at me as if to check in, making sure I’m okay.
“Should we get the volunteers involved again?” I ask the question even though I already know what Patrick’s answer will be.
“No,” Patrick says firmly. “We’ve already told them they’re all done. We need to handle this ourselves.”
Running a hand through my hair as I walk into the kitchen, I lean against the edge of the bench top, watching Bandit through the window above the sink. “When did this happen?”
Patrick hesitates, and I can almost see him rubbing the back of his neck, a telltale sign he’s about to admit something he’s not proud of. “We don’t know exactly. No one’s checked on the booms in a few days.”
“Damn it.” I snap, unable to hold back my frustration. “We were so close to being done. And I told you at our last meeting to make sure someone checks on them regularly.”
“I know,” he says quietly. “I know.”
The silence between us is thick. Bandit comes back inside, nudging my leg, sensing something’s wrong. I reach down and scratch behind his ears.
“We need to get out there and assess the damage,” Patrick says finally. “Figure out what we’re dealing with.”
“Yeah,” I reply, my voice tight. “Let’s do that. I’ll meet you there in about an hour.”
We hang up, and I stand there for a moment, staring out at the yard but not really seeing it. The sense of progress we’d been celebrating only last night feels like it’s slipping away, replaced by a new, daunting challenge.
Returning to the bedroom, Blake is sitting up in bed, her back against the headboard, face pinched with worry, her phone in her lap. I lay on the bed beside her, propping my head up with one arm, and for a moment I think she’s overheard my call with Patrick. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“No. I heard my phone.” The worried expression doesn’t leave her face.
“What’s up? Is everything okay?”
She tightens her grip on her phone. “I got a message from Reverend Billy. David showed up at one of the shelters last night. He was acting really erratic and mentioned me by name.”
“Just what we need,” I mutter, flipping onto my back and staring up at the ceiling. “What did Reverend Billy say? Is David okay?”
“He didn’t say much else, just that he seemed really agitated and suggesting that I come past.”
I reach out and take her hand, feeling the familiar warmth of her skin against mine. “We’ll figure it out. I’ll come with you to the shelter.”
Her eyes narrow as she studies my face. “You look stressed. What’s going on?”
A somber mood settles over me, and for a few seconds I wish we could just turn back time to last night, when the two of us and Bandit sat in the dunes making plans for the future, and freeze that moment forever.
But we can’t, and so I roll my shoulders, easing the tension that’s settled there, and give her hand a squeeze. “Patrick just called. There’s been a breach. The booms across the wetlands broke, and oil leaked in. We thought the end was in sight, but now it looks like we’re dealing with a whole new problem.”
Her eyes widen. “That’s terrible. What are you going to do?”
“Patrick thinks it’s best not to involve the volunteers. We need to handle this ourselves.”
Blake winces. “I’m sorry. I know how hard you’ve been working. That’s a real blow.”
“Thanks.” I say. “But right now, you come first. We’ll go to the shelter, find David, and make sure he’s okay.”
She smiles—a small, grateful smile that makes the weight on my shoulders feel a little lighter. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” I say, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “Let’s get moving.”
We get dressed quickly, and I feed Bandit and make us a couple of protein shakes for the road. As we head out the door, there’s a brief pang of annoyance that I didn’t get my morning workout in, but what can I do? Bandit jumps in the back, head out the window as we drive off.
The streets are almost empty and we soon pull up in front of the shelter, a modest, single-story building on the outskirts of town. The entrance is flanked by a couple of potted plants, their leaves wilted and in need of water.
We park and head inside to what looks like a waiting room. The place is quiet this time of day. Worn-out couches line the walls, and a few tables are scattered around, covered in pamphlets and magazines, while everything carries the faint smell of lemon scented cleaning supplies.
We spot David straight away, pacing near one of the tables at the back, his movements jerky and eyes wild. His clothes are rumpled, and there’s a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. He looks up as we approach, his expression shifting from relief to agitation and back again as his eyes tick between us, a wild look in his eyes that sets my nerves on edge.
“I can’t believe you brought him with you,” he mutters as we get closer, his voice tinged with bitterness.
Blake steps forward, her voice soft and soothing. “Reverend Billy told me you were here. I came to see if you’re okay. Ethan cares about you, too. It’s okay.”
David’s eyes flick around the room, avoiding her gaze. “Why do you care? You’ve got your own life, your own problems. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“Of course I care,” she insists, taking another step closer, her hand outstretched. “We’ve been through a lot together, and I want to help you.”
David’s expression hardens, his jaw clenching tightly as he raises a trembling hand, gesturing wildly. “Help me? How can you help me? You don’t understand what I’m going through. Apparently . If you want to help you’ll just give the damned evidence.”
Blake’s eyes soften, her tone pleading. “You’re right, I don’t know exactly what you’re going through, but I want to try. Please, let me help.”
He shakes his head, his movements erratic. “No, you don’t get it. You can’t fix this. You can’t fix me. I’m fucking broken.” He raises his hand higher, and for a moment, I think he might lash out.
Stepping in front of Blake, my voice firm but calm. “Watch it. Lower your arm, please.”
Blake shoots a quick glance at me, her eyes narrowed, then turns back to David. “Do you want to go somewhere to talk? In private?”
“Just the two of us?”
Is this guy serious? “Not a good idea.”
A flash of anger crosses David’s face and he glares at me before focusing on Blake. “Is your guard dog going to come too?”
Blake reaches out a hand, angling her body away from me, and I get that she wants me to back down, but I’m not prepared to leave her in a risky situation. Her safety is more important than whatever is going on with David.
“We can talk just the two of us, figure this out together.”
His expression twists with frustration and bitterness. “There’s no point. You don’t remember anything, apparently, or you’re willing to cover this up, just like everyone else.”
She tries to take his hand but he pulls away, and the hurt on her face just about kills me. What’s wrong with this douchebag? Can’t he see Blake’s just trying to help.
“Let’s see someone. Please. We can get you some help to get clean. You’ve gotten sober before. We can do this.”
He grabs his worn-out bag with a sudden, jerky motion, his voice rising. “I don’t need to get clean. I need you to support me like you promised you always would. I’m out of here. You don’t need to worry about me anymore because I won’t be back.”
He storms past us, the door slamming shut behind him with a violent bang. The sound reverberates through the waiting room, punctuating the quiet that’s gripped the room. Turning to Blake, I’m surprised to see anger and hurt in her expression as she stares at me, like I’m the one who did something wrong.
Reverend Billy opens a door leading to the rest of the shelter and steps into the room before either of us has a chance to say anything, frowning deeply. “Is everything okay? I heard raised voices. Where’s David?”
Blake shakes her head. “He’s gone. I’m sorry, Reverend, I tried to get through to him.”
“We need to give him some space at this point. Hopefully when he calms down, we can get him the support he needs to get sober. Don’t give up on him. We’ll figure it out.” Reverend Billy gives her arm a quick squeeze.
The shelter’s waiting room feels even smaller as he says goodbye and leaves us alone. Blake looks rattled, her eyes still searching the door that David stormed out of, the space between us tense, a coiled spring wound too far.
We walk back to the truck in silence. Bandit perks up as we approach, his tail wagging enthusiastically, but even his usual doggy happiness can’t cut through the atmosphere that’s settled over us. We both open the truck doors at the same time, and I look at Blake across the seats, her perfect face framed by the open door.
“Princess, I think you need to resolve this with David one way or another. I know you want to help him, but you should probably think about just cutting contact at this point.”
Her eyes flash with anger. “Do not princess me right now. You don’t understand—David is hurting, and he needs someone to believe in him. I can’t just abandon him.”
“He’s unpredictable and a danger to himself and possibly to you. Can’t you see that?”
She shakes her head. “He’s not a danger to me. We have a bond. He’s been through hell, but I know he wouldn’t hurt me. You don’t know him like I do.” She blows out a breath, her gaze locking onto mine. “Look, maybe I should walk home. I think I need some air.”
“Come on, I’m sorry. Please get in the truck.” I sigh, running a hand through my hair, frustration gnawing at me.
Her jaw tightens, and she crosses her arms across her chest. “But you’re asking me to cut off someone who’s been like a brother to me. I can’t just turn my back on him when he needs me the most.”
“I’m sorry. I just... I worry about you. I can’t help it. I want to protect you, but sometimes it feels like you won’t let me.”
She looks away. “I know you care. But this is something I have to handle my way. Please understand that.”
“I just want you to be safe.” My voice is softer now. “That’s all.”
Standing there silently, looking at her across the front seats of the truck, waiting. I won’t give up on her. Partners should protect each other and fight for one another with everything they have. My own parents’ marriage crumbled into a pile of resentment and anger, leaving nothing but bitterness between them.
I remember finding their wedding photos in a dusty box in my mom’s attic, seeing an unrecognizable version of them, so in love and happy, full of hope for the future. But they hated each other by that point in time, their love gone because they didn’t fight for it.
I’ve never been in love before Blake, but I know one thing for sure: I can’t let that happen to us. I have to fight for her, protect her with everything I have. If I don’t fight for what matters, we’ll end up like my parents—broken, miserable, and full of regrets.
She finally looks at me and I hold her gaze: “Please. Don’t shut me out. You can’t blame me for wanting to protect you.”
Her anger seems to dissipate slightly. “I know. And I appreciate that. But David needs help, and I can’t just cut him off. Please, try to understand.”
I nod reluctantly, knowing this isn’t a battle I’m going to win. Not now, anyway. “Okay. Please just get in the truck.”
She finally climbs in and I reach over and squeeze her hand. “Let’s not let this get between us?”
“Sure. But just drop me at home now.”
“Of course. I need to meet Patrick and the boys, anyway. Is everything okay between us?”
“Yep,” she replies, squeezing my hand again.
As we drive away from the shelter, I glance over at Blake, taking in the tension in her posture, the way her fingers drum anxiously on her knee. I know she’s thinking about David, about the way he looked—so erratic, so clearly in the grip of his demons.
“I hate seeing him like that,” she says suddenly, her voice breaking the silence. “It brings back so much from when I was a kid. The things I went through with my dad.”
Of course. This has to be dragging up all kinds of bad memories for her. Memories of her father’s struggles with addiction, of the times she spent in foster care surrounded by uncertainty and fear.
I reach over, cupping my hand over hers, silently vowing to protect her with everything I have. “I can’t imagine how hard this all must be. But you’re not alone now. You have me.”
“Thanks. I do appreciate you. But you really need to back off a little right now.”
“I’ll back off, but I need to know you’re actually going to do something about this. Because if he turns up high and you’re alone, he might not be in his right mind. I’m sure sober David would never hurt you, but we can’t say the same now you know he’s using.”
She turns to look out the window, resting the side of her head against the glass. As we drive toward her house, I wish things were simpler, that Blake would just listen to me: this isn’t about abandoning David; it’s about protecting herself.
I can’t stand the thought of something happening to her because of him. But I know her well enough to understand that she needs to handle this her way.
Although, if push comes to shove with David, I won’t be the one backing down. I love Blake, and when you really love someone, you fight for them with everything you have.