I threw myself at her feet, panting, and then it began. Uncontrollable tears and gut-wrenching sobs took over, and I curled up into a protective ball, shielding my face with my hair.
When I finally opened my eyes, I was garnished in leaves, and I couldn’t help but wonder if Bertha was trying to conceal me from prying eyes while I broke down. The long hair atop her head seemed like it was hanging lower today and, when the wind blew, strands swept across my cheek, consoling me.
I was so physically and mentally drained that I didn’t notice him approach. Startled, I couldn’t hide the look of panic that stretched across my face. He rushed to reassure me, jutting out his hands in a stopping motion.
“Don’t run. I won’t come near you, I promise. Not until you say it’s okay. Just stay. Please.” He dipped his head in a non-threatening manner, searching me for reassurance. Lowering himself in front of me, a short distance away, he crisscrossed his legs. “I’m so sorry, Angel—”
“Please, don’t. I’m embarrassed enough.”
His eyes turned sharp, serious. “No! It’s not your fault. You have nothing to be ashamed of, do you understand me? It’s me.” The harsh line of his shoulders curled in. “When I get around you, I just can’t help myself. I know I said I just want to be your friend, and I do, I swear I do, but something comes over me.” Pain showed through his eyes. “It’s weird, ya know? I don’t even think I understand it. We barely know each other. I know how crazy it seems, trust me, but all I can concentrate on is touching you in any way you’ll let me.”
His focal point settled on my mouth. “Like right now. The hair you haven’t noticed is trapped in your chapstick. All I can think about is freeing it.” He gripped the blades of grass beside his thighs like he needed his hands distracted.
I reached a finger to my lips, finding the object of his attention and plucking it loose. I hadn’t even felt it.
Blake smiled shyly. “I thought it was okay and I pushed too far. I’m sorry.” He sighed and raked a frustrated hand through his hair. “God, when am I going to stop fucking this up?”
His admission left me stunned, and I wasn’t sure if I had the energy left I’d need to deal with it.
“Say you forgive me. God, I never want to fucking see you cry—ever. I only want to make you feel good things, never bad. Please, don’t hate me.”
The heartbreaking look he wore actually made me want to comfort him. My heart felt like it had just melted and was leaking through my nervous system. I needed to make it better as badly as he needed for it to be better.
Truth.
He needed the truth.
He’d done nothing wrong and he was here groveling as though he had. “It’s not you. It’s me. I’m fucked up.” I closed my mouth quickly, unable to believe I’d said that out loud. “I overreacted. Let’s just drop it, okay? We’ll pretend it didn’t happen.”
Blake relaxed a little, and I was grateful he wasn’t harping on what I’d just said.
I gave him a shy smile. “And I don’t hate you. I couldn’t if I wanted to. Trust me, I’ve tried.” I rolled my eyes.
“Is it all right if I come closer now?” He looked like he couldn’t stomach the distance anymore. It was cute. It relaxed my insides.
“Yeah, it’s okay.” I scooted over to give him room and patted the space beside me. “Bertha misses you.”
Blake inched toward me on his butt like a worm, skeptical of every move he made in my direction. When he finally reached me, he was rigid by my side, leaving more distance than necessary. He sat on his hands as if he didn’t trust he could keep them to himself.
“Relax, I’m fine. It was all too overwhelming. I’m sorry I reacted that way. I just don’t trust myself when I’m with you. It makes me nervous. You must think I’m out of my mind, huh?”
“I’ll never think anything bad of you, Angel. I don’t want to tell you what I do think of you. You might run away again, and I forgot to wear my running shoes today, obviously.”
I laughed, and the mood shifted between us like we’d been doing this for years.
Pulling his hands from their place underneath him, Blake turned toward me. He lifted his thumbs to the swollen, tender flesh beneath my lower lashes and smoothed away the loose tears and streaks of mascara, letting his hands cradle my face once he’d cleaned it all away. The act was so compassionate and gentle, I couldn’t help but close my eyes and just feel. Feel him. Feel safe. Just . . . feel.
When I opened my eyes, he was staring at me as if there was so much he wanted to say. I had to put a stop to this. “Blake, I—”
“Come on.” He smiled sweetly. “Let me take you for some ice cream.”
“Ice cream?” I cocked my head to the side.
He winked and pulled me to my feet. “Sure. Ice cream makes everything better. And I already told you, I’ll take whatever I can get.”