Mary left and went to the store. Apparently, Blake’s presence was enough reason to cook a fancy meal. I could tell Dean was a little embarrassed by the house when he showed Blake around. He must’ve known the type of lavish lifestyle Blake was accustomed to.
Our furniture was old and worn and nothing matched. But they had been used, well lived-in, and I had a feeling that Blake preferred what he was seeing to what he had. It wasn’t until Dean showed Blake his high school–basketball trophies and pictures that I detected a sense of pride in his voice. I left them alone and went to the kitchen to make us drinks.
“You’re pissed?” His voice came from behind me.
I kept pouring, my eyes fixed on the seven glasses on the counter in front of me.
“You’re really good at the whole ignoring thing.” His hand clamped down on my wrist while the other removed the pitcher from my hand. “Did I do something wrong?”
I had to laugh. “Your—” I cut myself off and lowered my voice. “Your girlfriend walked in on us sleeping tog— Not sleeping—”
His chuckle broke through.
“You know what I mean, and it’s not funny, Blake.”
He set the pitcher on the counter and held my hands, turning me around, and bending his knees to look me in the eyes. He still had a smug smile on his beautiful face. “First, we weren’t doing anything wrong.” We had been, but I let that slide. “Second, my girlfriend walked in on us not doing anything wrong. If you should be mad at anyone, it should be her.” He straightened up, but he didn’t let go of my hands.
“That’s ludicrous. I can’t be mad at her. She didn’t do anything! She caught her boyfriend in bed—”
“So really . . . you have no reason to be mad at anyone?”
My eyes narrowed.
He laughed again.
I wanted to stay mad, tell him that he was being a dick and that he was wrong, but I just couldn’t. Not when he was this close, laughing that same boyish laugh from last night. “You’re an ass.”
“Maybe.” He shrugged. “But you like me, regardless.”
“Is he your boooooyfriend?” Amy teased when we were back out in the yard. Her cap fell forward over her little seven-year-old head and covered her eyes.
“No. And stop being a child,” I joked back.
Then Dean chimed in. “Yeah, Chloe, is he your boooooyfriend?”
Blake’s chuckle was enough to make me turn and glare at him. “No, Dean,” I retorted, my eyes never leaving Blake’s smug face. “Hunter has a girlfriend.” His smile fell. “She’s the head cheerleader and the hottest girl in the entire school,” I sing-songed.
That shut everyone up.
We sat on the porch steps outside and watched the kids while Mary and Dean cooked dinner.
“Are all these kids . . . ? I mean, are they all adopted?”
I glanced at him quickly, but he was gazing at the kids playing. Amy and Sammy were attempting to build a fort with branches and a bed sheet while Harry, the eldest at fourteen, was screwing around on a shitty old skateboard. “They’re all fostered. Mary and Dean haven’t adopted any of them yet. At the moment, they’re trying to get approval for Harry, so that will hopefully happen soon. But, no. Sammy, the youngest, he’s only been around for a few months. Amy has been here for over two years now.”
“Dean and Mary? They don’t want their own kids?”
“They can’t.”
“Oh,” he said quietly.
“Yeah . . .”
I watched him as he looked around the yard. It wasn’t much, and the garden wasn’t maintained like his was, but no one had the time for any of that. “What—?” He cleared his throat. “What happened to their parents?”
I sighed. “Another time, maybe?”
“Okay,” he answered. But his tone was sad.
“Blake?”
“Mmm?”
“We’re fine. We’re happy. Are you worried about something?”
He sniffed once, but his eyes never left Harry on the board. “What happens to them? I mean, if no one wants them?”
I tried to laugh. Tried to find a way to soothe his worries. “They become me.”
His eyes snapped to mine. And I saw it then—a side to Blake I doubted he shared with anyone. This sad, vulnerable boy who cared. Our eyes stayed locked and the seconds felt like an eternity. The thumping of my heart against my chest began to ache. But I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t fight it—what it was that was happening to me. To us. To my entire world.
“Blake . . .”
He blinked once, breaking the connection. Then his gaze moved to Harry again. “Dude,” he yelled, standing up and walking toward him. “You almost had it that time. That was awesome! Do it again.”
I’d watched and listened to Harry enough to know he was attempting a kick flip. He did it a few more times while Blake circled, one arm crossed over his chest and the other with his hand on his chin. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he took in Harry’s form. “Is it cool if I try to help you out a little?”
“Sure.” You couldn’t have wiped the smile off the boy’s face if you’d tried. The other kids stopped what they were doing and made their way over so they could watch. I joined them and stood next to Blake. He’d winked when he’d seen me coming. I wondered for a second what the hell he was doing there, hanging out with my broken family and me. But it was only a second before I decided that I just didn’t care.
“So I think if you move your left foot back a little and put your right foot on more of an angle, you’d be good.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed in concentration as he looked from Blake to me. I encouraged him with a nod of my head.
The cheers he got when he nailed the trick were so loud Dean came rushing out the front door. His body visibly relaxed when we told him what had happened. “Wash up,” was his response. “Dinner’s ready.”
I watched the kids run up the porch steps while we trailed behind. “That was really nice, Blake, you helping Harry like that.”
“It was nothing.”
“It meant something to him.”
He put his arm around my shoulders and brought me closer to him. “Did it mean something to you?”
“Yes.”
He kissed my temple, longer than what was necessary but shorter than what I wanted. “Then I guess it means something to me, too.”