AllFreeNovel
Share Us
It’s hard to tell what Juliette said to him. She fucking sabotaged me. But why? Just because of Blake? How delusional and vindictive do you have to be to do such a thing? My stomach recoils.
The person I thought was Prince Charming swooping in to save me turned out to be the one who destroyed my dreams.
But this is not Blake’s fault. It’s mine. I’m the one who chose him over my future.
My hands tremble as I approach the bus stop, my mind in a daze. The usual fumes from passing buses barely register as I struggle to focus on my thoughts. My breathing is shaky.
The world outside passes in a blur as I make my way back to my apartment, feeling lost and uncertain. Am I repeating my mother’s mistakes? Sacrificing my dreams for a man?
I push those thoughts aside and focus on what just happened. Blake isn’t like my father; he’s different, better than those guys.
He told me he loved me.
And not just with words but with his actions. It was in every soft touch, every glance. We made love in a missionary position. Sure, it may be common for most people, but not for us. Not when it comes to Blake. When he said it was intimate, he meant it.
We’ll be okay.
I’ll be okay.
We just have to figure out how to navigate through this situation together.
* * *
I jumpat the sound of a knock on my door. It’s late, and I wasn’t expecting any visitors tonight. Maddy had gone back home earlier, but she insisted on returning tomorrow. She doesn’t want to leave me alone in our place, even though I reassured her I’d return after Christmas. But she’s worried, though.
My breath catches in my throat when I open the door. Dark circles shadowed Blake’s once bright eyes, making his face look gaunt and worn. He stumbles inside, his movements unsteady and his words nonexistent as he latches onto me for support. I hold him close, feeling every tremor and exhaustion radiating from him.
“Hey,” I say, struggling to find the right words. There are no words of comfort after discovering a parent is dying. It feels like the ground vanishes beneath you, leaving you lost and helpless.
Blake’s grip tightens around me, his body trembling with emotions he cannot contain. The weight of his pain seeps into me, and I lead him to the couch, guiding him to sit as I kneel in front of him.
“I’m here for you, Blake,” I whisper softly, placing my hand on his quivering knee. His haunted gaze meets mine, fear visible in those usually confident eyes for the first time.
“There’s no hope,” Blake’s voice breaks, tears welling up.
My heart lurches at his words, understanding the magnitude of his pain. But I’m unsure if he means for his father or for his future. Perhaps both.
Without a second thought, I wrap my arms around him, holding him as he finally lets go of the façade he’s been carrying all this time. His silent sobs fill the room.
I stroke his back soothingly, offering what little comfort I can as he grieves for both losses. The silence between us is heavy with unspoken words, with the ache of what lies ahead for him and his family.
A few beats later, Blake’s cries subside. He leans back, eyes growing distant and cold. I shiver at the sudden shift in his demeanor. At the calculated business side springing forward.
“I don’t know what to do, Amanda.”
“You don’t have to figure it out right now.” My voice is gentle.
He scans my apartment as if searching for something. “When are you leaving for your grandmother’s?” His voice is barely more than a whisper.
“Not until the twenty-second.” My heart clenches at his dejected tone. “I wanted to wait until after Saturday’s dinner at the shelter, but I understand if you can’t go.”
He hesitates before answering. “No, I want to go.” He manages a smile that never quite reaches his eyes. “No matter what’s happening with my dad, I’ll always be there for you.”
The words are right, but our connection feels strained. Forced when it has always been effortless between us. It’s surely because of Blake’s father’s situation rather than ours. I hold back a curse. Obviously, it’s not us. After learning about my mother’s diagnosis, I distanced myself. Blake isn’t just losing his father; he’s also losing his hockey career.
I reach out tentatively to touch his hand as if grounding us in the present moment. But his warm and reassuring gaze is distant and detached. It’s as if he’s already slipping away, consumed by the impending loss he’s facing.
“I’m here for you, Blake,” I repeat softly, hoping my words offer comfort. But there’s a palpable distance between us that wasn’t there before.
