“You’re still as cruel as you were when she died,” she spat. Her words hit the mark, and he told himself to let them come. She didn’t mean them, not really. Oh, she might mean them right now, but in the grand scheme, she was hurting as he was, and he was just an easy target. He always had been for her.
“Go home, Candice,” he repeated. “There’s nothing for you here.” There hadn’t been for a long while.
She turned on her heel and went to the front door. When she paused as she put her hand on the doorknob, he braced himself for her words once more. He didn’t hate his ex-wife, he never had, but he was growing weary.
“I’m not sorry I came,” she said softly, not turning to look at him. He was glad for that, as he truly didn’t want to see whatever emotions might be lacing that gaze of hers. He could only take so much without breaking again, and frankly, he wasn’t sure he’d put himself together the right way before. He was in danger of crumbling again. “I’m not sorry I came,” she repeated after a moment. “But I am sorry if I hurt that other woman.”
His eyes widened, surprised that she’d bring up Blake after all of this. His thoughts might have been on Cynthia and Candice during the exchange, but Blake had never been far from his mind. He’d have to figure out how to fix things with her because he’d sure as hell let things get fucked up with just one conversation on his porch. He wasn’t sure he wanted to let Blake walk away that easily, but first, he needed to get Candice on her way. She would leave soon, he thought, because she had nothing else for her here. He’d have thought she would have realized that long before now, but sometimes, grief mucked things up.
“Goodbye, Candice.” He didn’t want to talk about Blake with her. Not now, and hell, not ever. Whatever happened with him and Blake wasn’t for Candice, and that was something his ex-wife would just have to deal with.
She sighed audibly, her shoulders hunching for a moment before she rolled them back and opened the door. When she closed it behind her, Graham didn’t relax, not even when he heard her car start up and pull out of the driveway.
While he was relieved she was gone, she’d brought a storm of memories and feelings he’d rather keep buried with her, and then left them behind. Of course, he knew he wouldn’t have been able to keep them buried in his mind since they were coming up on the anniversary so he couldn’t be too angry with her for that.
He could, however, be pissed off at the situation in general. He’d fought with himself over being with Blake in the first place, and now he would have to figure out how to get her back.
He wasn’t good with words, never had been, but he had a feeling he’d have to tell her exactly what had happened with Candice. And that meant opening old wounds that had been barely scabbed over to begin with.
He would do it, though. Not just because he had to, but also because it wasn’t fair to Cynthia to keep her in the dark of his memories for so long. She deserved more. Maybe this was another form of healing, or maybe this was him trying to move on. Either way, he owed Blake an explanation, and he just hoped he could give her the time to figure it all out.
Though he knew he should call her right away, he put it off for just a bit. He cleaned up the mess he’d made before Candice had shown up and then finished the laundry. His body still ached from his day on the job, and while he probably should go to bed soon, he knew he couldn’t until he’d heard Blake’s voice. Even if it were just voicemail—if she ignored his call.
After a little over an hour, he knew he’d waited long enough. He rubbed a hand over his face and pulled out his phone. In the long run, it might be easier to not call Blake and ignore everything that had happened, letting things run their course. But something told him it would never be that easy. He was working on the home she’d grown up in—and that was something he needed to find out more about, as there were secrets there; things that lay between them. She also worked at Montgomery Ink so there would be no true avoidance of her. Not to mention, she was becoming friends with his future sister-in-law. And every time he’d tried to push her from his mind in the past, she’d shown up again anyway. Like at the hockey game, the shop, and even the damn grocery store. If he didn’t call and try to make things right, he knew he’d see her once again, and things would just get worse.
So he dialed her number and took a breath, hoping he wasn’t making yet another mistake.
When she picked up, he let out the breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding. “Graham.” Her voice was devoid of emotion, and that scared him more than if she’d cursed his name. Hell, he’d rather have heard anger or sadness because those were things he could find a way to work with, to apologize and atone for. And yet, this Blake with the cold voice—or on the edge of warm, he just wasn’t sure—told him he’d fucked up more than he thought.
“Blake,” he whispered back, then cleared his throat. “I was afraid you weren’t going to pick up.”