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I nod. It's still hard. It's still pent up inside me.
There's affection in his eyes.
Maybe we are friends.
Maybe that's enough. I don't need him being in love with me if he really does love me.
"How did it happen?" he asks.
"They were in a car accident."
"And that was it?"
"Yeah." I let my eyelids flutter together. "I was at a cross-country event when I got the news. I was thinking about the guy who asked me to Winter Formal. About my dress. About things that didn't matter at all."
Blake runs his fingers through my hair. I lean into his touch. I soak up every bit of it.
"You'd have liked the dress. It was black. Low-cut. It's still in my closet somewhere. I don't think I've ever worn it."
He pulls me closer. Until I can feel his heartbeat. It's steady. His breath is too.
I sink into his arms. It feels good. Safe. Reassuring. I haven't had any reassurance. For three years, I've been the one telling everyone else it's going to be okay.
And now he's doing it.
I want that.
I want to collapse in Blake's arms.
I want him taking care of me.
"My coach came over." I swallow hard. "It was right before I was set to race. I was all high and mighty, wondering what could be so important. But there was this look on her face. Something was wrong.
"She took me to the tiny parking lot. She couldn't look at me. I couldn't look at her. I don't remember exactly what she said, just that I ran. I ran to the hospital even though it was miles away. I had no idea what had happened, if my family was alive or dead."
He holds me closer.
"I knew it was bad from the way the nurse looked at me. But it didn't feel real. It felt like I was watching the whole thing on TV. Mom and Dad were dead on arrival. Lizzy was in the ICU. I stayed with her for a while. I only went home to change and shower. I slept in the waiting room. It was only a few days, but it felt like weeks. I would have been completely alone. I wouldn't have had anyone."
A drop falls on my leg. Another. My hand is shaking. Gin and tonic is spilling over the sides of the glass.
Blake takes my hand and pries my fingers from the glass. He sets it on the floor then intertwines his hand with mine.
His eyes meet mine.
It's a look I've never seen before. Not on him.
It's like he does love me.
Like the only thing he wants is my happiness.
He brushes my hair behind my ear. "That must have been hard."
"There was no time for it to be hard. My parents didn't save for shit. They were in debt. Their life insurance was enough to get me through high school. Then to cover what my job didn't. But it wasn't enough."
"Were you eighteen?"
"Yeah. Thank God. We don't have any other family. Lizzy would have been in foster care if I didn't become her legal guardian."
He brushes the hair from my eyes. "It's okay to want a comfortable life."
"That was the last time I was free, that morning at the cross-country meet. It's not about the money, Blake. It's about the sense that I could do anything. I haven't felt that for a long time."
He nods.
"I want Lizzy to have that."
"Of course." He runs his fingers along my chin, tilting it so we're eye to eye. "You are free, Kat. I need you for a few months, but when we're not together, you're free to do whatever you want."
"As long as I keep up the right image."
"Your image is perfect." He stares into my eyes. "You're better than I ever imagined."
"At lying to people."
"If I was looking to fall in love, it would be with you." His hand brushes my cheek.
If he was going to fall in love it would be with me. What bullshit. He's not going to fall in love, so it's not going to be with me.
It's not a compliment. It's not comforting. Not unless I can convince myself it's more than a lie.
"Don't say things you don't mean." I slide to the other side of the couch.
"I never do." He moves closer. "I want you to feel better."
"I'm not going to feel better."
"I disagree." He pulls me onto his lap. Wraps his arms around my waist. "I'll get your mind off this."
"You can't appease me with sex," I say. "Is that the only way you can deal with people's emotions—pay them off or fuck them?"
His eyes flare with something I can't place. No, I know that look.
I'm right and he hates it.
He releases his grip. It makes me cold. Empty.
"You're right. I don't know how to make someone happy," he says. "But I do want you to be happy."
"Then don't say things like that. Don't act like you might love me."
He nods. "What do you want with my money?"
"I already told you."
"You want it for your sister. But what about for you?"
"What I told your mom. I want to go to college. Art school. I want to publish graphic novels. One day."
"Yours or others?"
"Both. I want to help people pour their soul onto the page. And share it with the world. I know it sounds cheesy. I guess it is. But that's what I want. I always thought I'd have to be an art teacher. Something like that. My parents were teachers. It's a good job. But not for me. I'm not good with people."
"You are."
"Maybe. But I prefer to work alone."
"That, I understand."
I can't help but laugh. "Do you have any friends?"
He arches a brow. "Is that an accusation?"
"No. I'm more… curious. You don't want a best man. There must not be anyone close to you."
"There isn't. Just my mother and my sister."
"Isn't that lonely?"
"I'm used to it." He looks up at me. "I know what you're going through taking on all that responsibility."
"Yeah?"
"My father wasn't just an asshole who drank himself to death. He took out his frustrations on my mother."
"Oh." My heart sinks. Poor Meryl.
"Once I was old enough to step in, he took them out on me." He looks at me. His voice fills with vulnerability. "I was fourteen when he died. I was relieved. The extra responsibility was nothing compared to how much I hated him."
"I'm sorry." My heart sinks for him too. I want to wipe his pain away. I want to prove that love doesn't have to be that ugly. I want to make the world a prettier place.
"Don't be. I'm glad he's gone."
"But I'm sorry you went through that. Love shouldn't hurt. Not like that."
He takes my hand. "It made me stronger. You lost parents who loved you. You lost something real. But it made you stronger."
I shake my head. "I'm not strong."
"You are."
A tear rolls down my cheek.
I miss my parents. There's still a hole in my heart. I never let myself feel it. I never let myself grieve the life I could have had.
Blake catches a tear on his thumb.
He leans in to press his lips to my forehead.
It's soft. Sweet. Loving.
I mumble into his neck. "I'm sorry you went through that."
"Thank you."
"What was it like? If you want to talk about it… You don't have
to."
He pulls me closer. "I thought it was normal. That all houses were that full of hatred. My parents were always drinking. It gave her courage. It made him angry. It was a toxic combination. He'd threaten to hit her and she'd call him a coward. She'd dare him to do it."
"She was brave."
"But stupid." He drags his fingers through my hair. "I did the same thing when I stepped in. So he'd take out all his anger on me. The asshole didn't care who he hurt as long as he hurt someone."
I squeeze his hand. I don't know what to say. Only that I want to be here. To listen. To help him. To hold him.
"I didn't do enough to protect her or Fiona. I could have called the police. I could have cut his brake lines. I could have stopped him for good."
"That's a hell of a choice for a fourteen-year-old to make."
He shakes his head. His expression softens. His posture does the same.
It's like he's sinking into me.
I do the same. I melt into him.
We stay pressed together, breathing together, for a long time. The room is still. Silent. But it's comfortable.
I feel safe in his arms. Even with all this ugliness swirling around us.
He brushes my hair between my eyes. "I have a perfect distraction."
I wipe my eyes, willing my feelings back into the box where I usually stuff them.
"Or we can stay here."
I take his hand and rise to my feet. "Is it sex?"
He laughs. Actually laughs. God, it really is a nice laugh. He eyes crinkle. His cheeks spread to his ears.
He has a dimple.
It's the best thing I've ever seen.
I have my clarity.
I want to be by his side.
Whatever that means.
I take Blake's hand and follow him out of the room.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The roof-access door is locked.
Of course, Blake has a key.
He squeezes my hand as he unlocks the door and pushes it open.
Moonlight falls over the concrete stairs. I grab onto the cold, steel railing as I climb the steps.
There.
It's like I'm actually touching the sky. The tall buildings surrounding us look close enough to touch. The dark, grey clouds seem inches above me.
I feel like a superhero. Like I could bounce around these buildings, making the city mine.
It's colder than it was this afternoon, but it's not seeping into my veins. If anything, I'm hot.
The rooftop pool glows with an aqua sheen. It's a spot of brightness against the dull sky.
