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“Blake,” my voice pleaded, and he stopped running a hand through his hair.
Dropping to the edge of my bed, his head hung forward like a man defeated. I shifted up on my knees and slipped my arms around his waist, pressing my cheek into his back.
“Talk to me.”
Please don’t shut me out now.
“That first year,” he said quietly. “I tried to come and see you. Three times.”
“I don’t understand.”
“My uncle told me not to go. On the third time, he got physical. He didn’t beat me or anything, but he lost it. My mom’s disappearance and death hit him hard. He said he didn’t want me to end up like her, like my father. None of it mattered to me, though. I just wanted to see you, Penny.
“The day I turned eighteen, I had planned to drive out to Lancaster. I knew you might not want to see me, but I had to try. Not a day went by that year when I didn’t think about you, Penny.” He turned his head slightly, brushing his nose across the top of my head. “Anyway, the morning of my birthday, he gave me two cards. One was from him and my aunt, and the other was from you.”
Me?
My heart stalled.
No.
No.
“I hope you’re happy. You’ve waited for this day for so long, and it’s here. Go live, Blake. Be everything you can and more. I’ll never forget you. Penny.” He recited the words as if they were imprinted in his mind.
I inhaled sharply. I hadn’t sent a card. Just as I had never received Blake’s letter.
“Your uncle sent it.”
It wasn’t a question; I knew the truth.
Blake’s uncle had been so desperate to keep his nephew in Upper Arlington that he sabotaged any last hope for us.
“I knew he was desperate, but how could he do that?” his voice cracked, and my heart ached for him.
“What happened after that?”
“The card was so, so final. It sounded a lot like goodbye, like you had moved on and wanted me to do the same. So that’s what I tried to do. That was the day I stopped living.”
A tear slipped from the corner of my eye, my heart shattering all over again.
All this time, I thought Blake had abandoned me, but he never had. He had thought of me all these years, and he’d kept our memory alive.
It was tragic, really.
Yet, our time apart had changed things. Blake might have kept our memory alive, but he had also moved on eventually.
“And now you’re engaged.”
The seconds the words left my mouth, Blake’s whole body tensed.
“I don’t love her,” was all he said.
“Does it matter? You still made a commitment to her when you proposed.” I was the one who winced this time.
A bitter laugh vibrated in his chest. “Proposed?” he scoffed. “I didn’t propose, Pen. My uncle arranged the whole thing. Things are more fucked up than you think.”
It was my turn to pace.
