“Is it serious?” Dad asks.
“Serious enough to introduce him to Lexi.”
“When do we get to meet him?” Mum asks.
“I don’t know. Soon?”
“Very soon.”
I chuckle. “I’ll talk to him.”
“Good. Can we talk to Blake?”
“He has a phone you could ring him on.”
“Or you could just pass him yours. Please.”
“Okay.”
“Bye, sweetheart.”
“Bye, Mum. Bye, Dad.” I hold the phone to my chest. “Mum wants to talk to you.”
Blake stands and comes over to take the phone, his actions hesitant. I want to tell him it’ll just be a generic chit-chat, but I know that’s not true. Instead, I offer him a small smile.
“Hi, Mum,” he says as he heads into the hall, closing the door behind him.
I shouldn’t listen, but after the things Mum and Dad said, I’m feeling all kinds of protective of Blake. I stay where I am, listening to his side of the conversation through the door. Blake’s responses aren’t long, and as the conversation goes on, I can hear the tension building in his voice. They’re talking about his decision not to live with me, and from the sound of it, they’re giving him a hard time. I curl my hand into a fist. Why are they so easy on Archie and me, but so hard on Blake? I know the answer. It’s because he didn’t live up to their exacting expectations, and they’ve never quite forgiven him for it. So much for unconditional love. I vow to always love Lexi no matter what. To always build her up, not tear her down. To respect her decisions, even if they’re not what I would have chosen.
I hear something clatter in the hall, and my heart leaps. I open the door. Blake is sitting on the bottom step, sobbing into his hands. My phone is on the floor, the call still active. Dad’s speaking, but I don’t really care.
“Blake?” I put my hand on his shoulder. When he doesn’t answer, I bend down to retrieve the phone. “Blake will talk to you later,” I say tersely, cutting off whatever Dad was saying.
“Why? Where has he gone?” Mum asks.
“Probably running away from a hard conversation,” Dad says.
“Now’s not a good time,” I tell them both.
“There’s never a good time.”
“Bye.” I hang up the call and stuff the phone into my pocket.
Why can’t they just accept that Blake is happy with the way he’s living his life? Why can’t they be happy for him? I sit beside him, but the second I do, he moves and goes into the porch. He shoves his feet into his boots and bends to tie the laces.
“Blake—”
He shakes his head. “I’m going out.” He sounds terrible—upset and lost.
“Where?”
“What are you,” he snaps, “my fucking keeper?”
I bite my lip, not rising to the bait he’s set. He’s lashing out because he’s upset. He doesn’t mean it.
“Fuck. I didn’t mean that,” he says in the most heartbreakingly genuine voice.
“It’s okay.”
