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He had no business being there. Couldn’t stay. Was under no illusions whatsoever regarding the future. But he thought he could justify one more visit.
ANNIE WOULD HAVE LIKED to be falling asleep half an hour after hanging up the phone with Becky. Instead, she was lying on her makeshift bed on the living-room floor, staring up at the ceiling and looking for honesty, if nothing else. Her cheeks sticky with the residue of tears, she thought about getting up and going to her real bed. Running from it was stupid. Immature.
She thought about taking a hot bath.Or calling her little brother.
She thought about…
Answering the door? Who would be dropping by at 9:30 on a Thursday night without calling first?
Tugging down the wrinkled and worn Texas A & M T-shirt she’d pulled on over her sweats, Annie ran for the door, fearing bad news. If something had happened to Cole, or June or…
“Blake?”
She glanced past him, wondering if Cole was with him. And didn’t see a car. “How’d you get here?”
“Walked. My car’s still out at the hospital.”
“Why?” She stood in the doorway, frowning, trying to make sense of what was going on. To figure out what was wrong.
“I left it there. Hitched into town, didn’t think I should drive.”
“Have you been drinking?” He didn’t look like it. Or smell like it. But…
“I had a few beers with Luke earlier.”
How many were a few? Blake had never been a heavy drinker.
“Not really enough to do damage, but I don’t take chances.”
That sounded familiar. “Is something wrong?”
“Maybe.”
Realizing that she was keeping him outside, Annie stepped back and held open the door. “Would you like to come in?”
He moved past her, continuing into the living room. And stood staring at the pillows and blankets spread on the floor. A cord dragged across the middle of the room, leading to the alarm clock she’d set to the right of her makeshift bed.
“You have a guest.”
“Just me.”
His gaze was piercing. “This is for you?”
“Yes.” She looked straight at him, daring him to make something of the information. Let him think she was crazy. Didn’t matter to her one way or the other what Blake Smith thought of her.
Because no matter how she did or didn’t feel about him, he was not going to be a part of her life.
Other than if you’ve conceived, in which case he’ll be stopping by to pick up his child for visits occasionally, a little voice reminded her.
If she were pregnant now, she could end up seeing Blake on a regular basis for the rest of her life. The prospect was almost as painful as it should have been. How could she possibly think that seeing a man whom she loved but could never have on a regular basis was a good thing? Unless she was some kind of masochist.
Her father had been the ultimate masochist. He’d hurt himself to the point of choosing to die. Raising a gun to his head and pulling the trigger.
Spilling blood all over the floor of his shop.
“What?” she said, as Blake continued to watch her.
“You used to do that,” he stated.
