Kaya laughs and signs back, but I don’t catch it because my eyes are fixed on a heart-stopping site straight ahead.
I’ll be right back.I tell them, but they’re so wrapped up in banter they hardly notice.
A familiar leather jacket stands with his back to me. Blake stares up at Prescott Hall, in the general direction of my dorm room as if he’s trying to speak to me telepathically. There he is. My body slaps with shock. Over the months we were together he had seen every part of me, my heart and soul included. I was exposed bare to Blake, far more than to anyone before and perhaps even myself. I trusted my heart to this person I had known for such a brief amount of time, and I gave him my body! The mournful hilarity of it all is too much to bear. But the truth is, Blake cannot be classified as something so simplistic as “this person.” He’s a part of me now, a part of my story of the fabric of my being. For so long he was the compass to every one of my heart beats—and as unfair as it may seem, still is. He had laid the deepest bruise over my existence, one which might never heal. In a strange way, I hope it won’t. I want to drink down the pain, the gutting grief, a little here and there, when I need it, so hopefully this entire tragedy will never play out again. Sometimes pain is the most respected teacher.
My heart drums into my throat. A part of me wants to do this—so I do.
The wind slices through me with its razor sharp teeth as I make my way over. I offer a quick tap to his shoulder. I’m sure Blake is used to girls tapping him on the shoulder to get his attention, especially the pregnant ones. Wait, that’s not right. But I’m too hopped up on adrenaline to care.
“Annie?” He wraps his arms around me so fast it’s as if I’ve just come back from the dead. Blake feels intensely solid, intensely mine. I take in the strong scent of his cologne, the familiar scent of leather, the slight hint of musk from his hair, and feel the tears burn under my lids. I pull back and carefully remove his arms from my body.
“I just want to say thank you.” My chest flashes with heat. I haven’t spoken since that day I yelled at him—correction, screamed. I’ve only done that a handful of times before and usually that was directed at my brothers.
His eyes narrow with sorrow as his hand cups my cheek. “My God, you have a beautiful voice. But I’m sure there is nothing to thank me for.” His gaze falls to the ground.
“You made me brave.” I can feel my voice warbling in and out of a whisper. “I’m doing my oral report for Digital Studios next Friday.” I try to even out my tone the way the way the countless hours of speech therapy taught me. “Without you, I wouldn’t be doing it.” I don’t tell him about the surgery. “Good luck to you with everything.” I turn to go, and he wraps his arms around me from behind. Blake buries his face in my hair a moment.
I twist into him, careful not to touch my lips to his. It would be too easy to fall back into old habits. I’m not sure I could control myself if that were to happen. I might ravage him. Take him right here in the middle of campus for all of Whitney Briggs to see.
Blake pulls back slowly, his fingers the last to drip from mine. “Can we go someplace to talk? I’ll buy coffee.” He tilts his head, pleading. There’s a desperation I’ve never seen in his eyes.
“I have to go.” I’m right back to whispering.
He gives a simple nod. “Good luck on your speech, Annie. I know you’ll kill it. And in case I don’t get to say it”—his lips pinch—“I’m proud of you.” Blake steps in and bears into me. “I love you, Annie. I will always love you.”
I turn around and run back toward Kaya and Tristan.
If I didn’t get out of there quick, I might have said those words right back.
Blake
My heart, soul, and ironically, the carriage house are all empty without Annie in my life. But the carriage house, however, is chock full of the baby gear Roxy and Cole helped haul into this tiny space a few days ago. After my relationship with Annie detonated in a shower of sparks, no thanks to her brothers, and mostly me, Roxy came by with her boyfriend ready to beat my balls in. Lucky for me and my balls, they listened, and I somehow managed to vomit out the truth. I made them swear they wouldn’t tell Annie. It’s something I need to do when the time is right, something I should have done when we were still new, but the truth is a slippery bitch that never wants to be held when Annie is around. Nevertheless, in a miraculous turn of events, Roxy’s heart exploded as large as the carriage house, and she took some of the proceeds from her last baking event and went to a thrift store and bought out the baby section. Cole said she might be nesting. Whatever that is, it worked in my favor. As much as my pride didn’t want to accept anything from them, I knew this would all be needed in a few short weeks so I tucked my balls between my legs and said thank you.
A firm knock vibrates through the door. I speed over in the event it’s Annie and peer out the window.
I swing it open and frown at my brother. “It’s just you.”
“Happy Thanksgiving to you, too.” His lips expand with a bleak smile. “Let’s see what I’m thankful for this year…oh, yes—your poor attitude.” He socks me in the arm before pulling me into a partial hug. “Get over yourself, will you? You have a lot to be grateful for.”
“Name it.”
“Okay, I will.” He wanders in, and I shut the door with my foot. “For one, I’ve decided to give you your Christmas gift a little early this year.”
“If it shits in the yard, I don’t want it.”
“No, this one shits in the toilet.” He sits down and slaps the seat next to him. “Take a load off.”
I head over and plop down. “First Thanksgiving that I haven’t had a bite of turkey, and I still feel like all I want to do is sleep.”
“I figured so. How about you rake a comb through your hair, and I’ll take you out for a bite.”
I press my head into the sofa and close my eyes. “Not until I get my gift.”
“All right. Her name is Beretta.”
“A gun? You got me a gun?” Does Wyatt know something I don’t?
“I got you a nanny. And before your mind drifts into the gutter, no, she’s not hot. Not unless you’re into sixty-five year-olds who wear ugly sweaters year round. She’s good people. Came highly recommended from friends of mine. She’ll do light cleaning and cooking. She doesn’t work weekends, so we’re on our own.”
