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“It’s so beautiful.”
“Yeah,” Blake said as he stared at the scene in front of him. He pulled a thick blanket out from the backpack he wore and laid it out on the ground. He sat and patted the seat next to him. Once Poppy sat beside him, they watched the water rush down before collecting at the basin.
“After Jon died, I came up here a lot to think.” She was surprised by his comment but didn’t interrupt. Even before Jon passed away, Blake hadn’t been very forthcoming with his feelings. Even when Poppy opened her heart up to Blake all those times they spoke, he hadn’t really shared what went on in his head. Poppy never pressed him though. She knew all too well that people dealt with their grief differently.
“The quiet helped me out, believe it or not.” His knees were drawn up, and his forearms rested atop them.
He kept staring at the falls, and she wished he would look at her so she could see what was going on behind his hazel eyes. The wind blew his short dark hair around his head, and Poppy had the strange urge to brush the locks away from his forehead. Instead, she curled her fingers into her palms and turned her attention forward.
“It isn’t your fault, Poppy.”
Shock resonated through her at his words, and she looked at him. “What?”
Blake looked down at her, his eyes holding so much emotion she felt it all the way inside her. He looked away, and when he dragged his eyes back to hers, the sadness behind them had her throat closing. Why did she think coming to stay with Blake had been a good idea?
“I came to the hospital after your surgery.”
Poppy blinked in confusion. “You came to the hospital? To see me?” She saw the way his throat worked when he swallowed. For several long moments, he didn’t answer her, just watched the water cascade into the basin.
“Yeah. Mom and Dad called me right after the accident, and I got on a red-eye flight. They told me you had internal bleeding and didn’t know if you’d even make it through surgery.”
The memories of those days spent in the hospital came back full force. Blake’s words reopened the scar on her belly, reminding her that she should have died in that car right along with Jon.
“I sat by your bed that whole night, just watching you sleep.” Poppy didn’t know any of this. After two years of talking, of planning her move, Blake had never said any of this. “You talked a lot while I was there. Of course you were out of it, and a lot didn’t make sense.” Blake had turned his body so he faced her. “But the thing you murmured over and over again was that you thought it was your fault he died.” He took her hand in his, and Poppy let the warmth seep into her. His words, and the way he spoke them, touched not just the surface, but deep down as well.
“I don’t know what to say.” The words came out on a whisper, and she felt tears burn the corners of her eyes.
“You don’t have to say anything, sweetheart.” Blake moved closer and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. With the side of her body flush with his, Poppy let her head fall to his shoulder. “I just want you to know it isn’t your fault.” He gave her a little squeeze as if to emphasize his point.
They sat there for another hour, not saying anything else. The weather grew colder, but Poppy didn’t care. Sitting next to Blake, even if no words were said, was the single most peaceful and fulfilling moment she had experienced in the past two years.Chapter 6The storm had come Saturday night and lasted all through Sunday afternoon. Poppy stayed inside the whole time, watching Blake keep the fire going. It was strange, but being around Blake didn’t require a lot of conversation. They could enjoy each other’s company without words getting in the way.
The sun had already set, and aside from the desk lamp on the desk in the corner, the only illumination came from the fire. Poppy sat curled under a blanket with a book in her lap. Blake sat on the other side of the room at his desk, working on paperwork. He had a pair of glasses on, and his hair was disheveled from the numerous times he ran his fingers through it.
Poppy found it extremely hard to concentrate on anything when his big body was hunched over the desk and a look of concentration marred his face.
The light from the lamp cast harsh shadows along his angular jaw. Blake still hadn’t shaved, and Poppy admitted, albeit only to herself, that it added a rugged, masculine quality to him. Although he only sat there, working on mundane things, there was no denying he was very comfortable in his skin, in his surroundings.
