Sophia grinned. “I want him to know I appreciate him for supporting my decision. I know it wasn’t easy for him.”
“So, do you feel ready for this?” Roman asked before taking another sip.
“Yes,” she assured. “I’m more than ready. Listening to everyone’s speeches, not being able to combat or support what they said, it’s been torture. I’m glad I finally get to say what I’d like to say. In person.”
“So, uh…” Roman glanced over his shoulder before turning back to her. “You want to talk about what’s going on with you and Blayze? One minute you’re cozied up together and the next you’re sitting on opposite ends of the couch.”
“That’s true.” Sophia used two spoons to plop the batter onto a baking sheet, the aroma of spiced pumpkin bringing a smile to her face. She’d planned to make the cookies as soon as he’d mentioned them, but now they were more of a peace offering after her outburst.
She glanced toward the hallway. Blayze would be out of the shower soon. “I really like him,” she whispered. “And he says he feels the same way…”
“Okay,” Roman encouraged.
Sophia sighed, not wanting to admit it was Blayze who’d set the boundaries. “We decided that testing it now, under these conditions, was a bad idea.”
“We?” he said, matching the quiet tone of her voice.
Sophia slid the pan into the preheated oven and folded her arms. “Hedid. Okay? And I agreed… after a while. Because I didn’t have a choice.” A chuckle fell from her lips as Roman grinned.
“Well,” he said, smile wider than his mug. “You could do a whole lot worse.”Spoken just like her father.
She spun back around to set the timer. The cookies would barely have time to cool before they had to leave. Roman’s suitcase waited beside the garage door; while Sophia and Blayze planned to come back to the cabin after tonight’s event, Roman would return home for a night or two. By the end of the week, they’d find out if the package cycle would continue with a fifth arrival and make plans accordingly.
With thoughts of weaving back through the narrow roads surrounded by towering redwoods, a certain yearning came back to Sophia as she recalled being in the back of the SUV with Blayze, fingers entwined while she lay in his arms, dreams of his kiss in her mind despite the threat that sent them fleeing.
There was so much going through her mind, she could barely keep a strain of thought. Love was a powerful thing, she supposed. Enough to own her thoughts even amidst the chaos.
“Think I’ll go over my notes one more time,” she mumbled while heading back to the table.
With the chair pushed away behind her, she glanced down at her written—not typed—speech. At first, she’d dreaded the idea of using anything but printed notes. But after watching Blayze create his masterpieces with paper and pen, she’d enjoyed handwriting her speech. Underlining and circling for emphasis. Drawing a few images along the side to remind her of her purpose. A gavel for justice, a heart for her mother and a tie for her father. Last, she drew an American flag, letting it represent her country, and the man who was quietly earning pieces of her heart.
“Okay,” Roman said, spinning on his barstool, “I’m your audience. Let’s hear it.”
Sophia smiled at the man, grateful for his support. She imagined that she was not in her sweats with an apron tied around her waist. Her hair and makeup were done after all. Close enough. A quick glance at her notes, the pull of a deep breath, and she was ready.
“All right, “she said. “Here I go.”
* * *
Blayze kept his eyes shut as he leaned his back against the wall. Tucked just inside the hallway, he keyed in to the sound of Sophia’s voice. Those compelling words, that bleeding passion. Roman had once joked the woman should run for president. The man wasn’t kidding. She had an appreciation for the country that very few had apart from those who put their very lives on the line. Or the family members who lay in wait. Praying God’s protection over their loved one night and day.
He couldn’t remember admiring someone so much. Or caring for a woman this deeply. How it had happened so fast, he wasn’t sure. Suddenly, a memory floated to his mind. A conversation he’d had with his mother one morning. While Mom sipped on a mug of steaming orange tea, she’d asked about how things were going between Blayze and Emily.
“Good,” he’d assured. “Really good.”
Mom asked a second question then. “Do you love her?”
Blayze hadn’t known how to respond to that. “I might,” he finally decided. “I mean, I’ve never felt this way about anyone else.”
A teary grin came to Mom’s face. “My suggestion…” she said, fingers curled around her mug, “the moment you’re certain, tell her. She deserves to know.”
Blayze had taken his mother’s advice. And as distant as those feelings were now, he didn’t regret it. Life was full of learning experiences; and as painful as some may be, each struggle brought wisdom—not an easy thing to come by. But the recollection begged a new question. One Mom wasn’t here to ask: Was he in love with Sophia?
The answer was a resoundingyes.
A rash of heat burst through his chest—a flare gun in full blast trapped in his ribcage. Yet, as Blayze pulled in a shallow breath, the heat spread up his throat and right to his face.
His head pulsed beneath the realization—he was in love with Sophia Vasco. Why did he have to discover the depths of his feelings for her then, with such a dangerous scenario ahead? Why not after the dust settled?
