CHAPTER NINETEEN
Blake
Josh told me that Chloe was taking a personal day off work, so when she walked up to the snack bar, I was surprised. “What are you doing here?”
“Good to see you, too.”
I laughed. “I just thought something might be wrong, that’s all.”
She shook her head, and leaned on the counter. “Actually, I came to ask you for something.”
“Anything.”
“Clayton’s funeral is tomorrow.” She smiled sadly. “It’s a closed ceremony. Just the family and Lisa and her parents.”
“Okay?”
“You can say no . . .”
“You want me to watch the kids or something? Whatever it is, I’m there.”
She shook her head. “I was actually wondering if you’d come with me. It would mean a lot if you were there,” she mumbled quickly, “and I know you didn’t really know Clayton, but you would’ve liked each other. But I’m not asking you for him. I’m asking you for me, because it’d be nice to have you there. It’s during school, and it’s not fair for me to ask you to skip, but the kids and me, all of us, we—”
“Chloe. Of course I’ll go. You didn’t even have to ask.”
She smiled. A real smile. One that I hadn’t seen in days. “Thank you, Mr. Blake Hunter. Number twenty-three. Starting shooting guard. Made varsity freshman year. MVP last three. Leading scorer in two divisions. All-frickin’-American.”
I couldn’t help but grin. “You researched me?”
“Yup,” she said proudly. “So two thirty?”
“I’ll be there.”
Then she turned and walked away, nudging shoulders with Josh as she did.
“You staring at her like that doesn’t make her yours.”
“Shut up, asshole.”
Chloe
“Are you going to stay for dinner?” Mary asked Blake, while he held his car door open for me after the services.
“Yes,” Sammy answered for him.
Mary laughed. “That’s settled then.”
She started to walk away. “Actually,” Blake’s word rushed out. She stopped and waited for him to continue. “I was wondering if I could take Chloe somewhere for a few hours . . . if that’s okay?” He looked nervous.
“You can ask her yourself.”
“Oh yeah,” he said, a blush creeping to his checks as he turned to me. “Is it okay . . . ? I mean . . . would you like to go somewhere with me for a little bit?”
I nodded.
“Okay then, let’s go.”
“Are you okay?” I asked him.
He glanced quickly over at me. “Yes. Why?”
“You just seem nervous.”
He didn’t respond.
I took that as my cue to keep quiet.
We drove about twenty minutes out of town. “Where are we going, Blake?”
“We’re nearly there.”
That didn’t answer my question, but I let it go.
He pulled over on the side of the road in what seemed like the middle of nowhere, unclipped his seat belt, and turned to me. “I’m not going to kill you,” he said through a smile. “I know your whole jogger theory, but I swear I won’t hurt you.” He trained his gaze on me, then he reached up, laced his fingers in my hair, and held the side of my head. He leaned in slowly, and my eyes drifted shut. I licked my lips, anticipating the contact of his lips against them.
But they never came.
I opened one eye first, then the other.
He was staring at me, his eyes dark and intense. Then he leaned in, placing a soft kiss on my lips. “Ready?”
We walked on a hidden path in the woods for five minutes before he took my hand and stopped. “I’m going to have to blindfold you now.”
“You’re actually going to kill me, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” he said, feigning disappointment. “You ruined the surprise with your smart-ass comments.”
I laughed, but then he pulled out a blindfold. “You were serious?”
“Trust me. It’ll be so much better this way.”
I closed my eyes, an invitation for him to go ahead.
He led me, my eyes covered, one of his hands holding mine with the other on the small of my back, for another two minutes. “Okay,” he said. “Ready?”
I nodded.
I felt his breath against my forehead as he removed the blindfold. When my eyes adjusted to the light, all I could see was him in front of me. “My surprise is you?”
He smiled huge and stepped aside.
Then I saw it.
And a million emotions went through me.
I laughed.
I cried.
I hurt.
I healed.
“Blake . . .” Because it was all I could say.
I dropped to my knees.
“This is it, right?”
I bit my lip to stop the sob escaping. But the tears—I let them flow freely. I couldn’t speak, but it didn’t matter. There were no words for what he’d just done.
“The picture of your mom and aunt, this is it?” he asked, squatting down to my level.
I nodded. I didn’t think—I just threw my arms around his neck and pulled him into me. He lost his balance but steadied himself with one hand on the ground.
“Blake,” I cried, and then pulled away. I placed his hand against my heart so he could feel the impact this had had on me. “You brought her back to me.”