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When he pulled into his driveway a few minutes later, he lifted her from the passenger seat and laughed as her head flopped back over his arm, her ponytail flopping back and forth. He managed to unlock the door and carried her back to his bedroom. Once he’d laid her gently on top of his comforter, he went to the closet to grab his extra quilt, figuring he’d just lay that over her.
When he picked it up, he saw the white box underneath with the word photos scrawled on the lid. He hadn’t even bothered to unpack any of the albums or the photos of Jenny and him in his apartment, the memories too painful to even look at. Now, he wondered if the reason he hesitated was because he was afraid he wouldn’t still miss Jenny the way he had before . . .
Well, before Hannah.
He placed a lightweight quilt over her, and, after he retrieved the box, closed the door gently behind him. Blake set the box down on the coffee table and went out to grab her pain meds and crutches from the car. Finally, when everything was quiet, he sat down on the couch and lifted the lid.
The picture of Jenny and him from their wedding day sat on top, and he wondered if Hannah had been the one to pull out the picture of his parents. Had she seen this? Was it painful, or had she left it for him to go through on purpose?
He set the picture aside and opened the first album, memories assaulting him with every page he turned. His whole childhood—no, his whole life—was compiled into these albums, and as he made it through his early years, his eyes were already damp with tears.
Then he reached his high school years, and besides several pictures of him on family vacations or just out with his friends, nearly all the rest included Jenny.
Jenny holding up the fish she’d caught when they were seventeen and his parents had let her come camping with them as long as they slept in separate tents. His mom had even grounded him when she’d caught him trying to sneak in with Jenny, who’d been sound asleep and hadn’t known anything was going on.
Their graduation ceremony, where he’d given her a promise ring he’d saved six months for. The picture was of the two of them kissing, the ring sparkling on her finger as she cradled his face.
When he’d made it through basic and Jenny had come down with his parents to watch him graduate. His mom had caught the moment Jenny had run to him and thrown herself in his arms, his face buried in her soft blonde hair and his arms squeezing her tight. He could almost smell the vanilla scent of her shampoo as he stared at the photo.
The last picture in the album was several months after he’d lost his parents, and when he’d been home on leave, Jenny had helped him go through their things. When he’d found their wedding picture, he’d hung it in the living room, and while he’d been adjusting the picture, Jenny had snapped one of her own. It was a haunting picture, beautiful with the afternoon light shining through the window behind him.
Blake ran his finger over Jenny’s smiling face, and although it still hurt to think about, he didn’t long for the past the way he had. Before Hannah had come into his life.
He closed the album and stuffed it in the box. He put it back in the spare bedroom and shut the closet door, leaving the room to check on the flesh-and-blood woman sleeping in his bed. The one who was slowly stealing his heart and slowly healing his soul.
Chapter Thirty
HANNAH HAD BEEN planning the day trip for the better part of two weeks, making sure that they both had the day off. She’d wanted everything to be perfect.
Blake was currently driving along the twisty, coastal highway, with Milo and Charge in the backseat and Hannah gripping the oh, shit handle for dear life. Her stomach churned at the jerky movements the car made with every curve.
“Do you think you could slow down just a bit, babe?”
Blake glanced her way with a frown. “I’m going the speed limit.”
“I know, but I get carsick, and the way you’re taking the curves . . . ”
Suddenly, the sound of retching behind her and the unmistakable smell of vomit filled the car.
She turned around to find Milo looking a bit bleary-eyed and a puddle of doggie puke dripping down the front of his seat.
“Please tell me your dog didn’t just ralph in my backseat.”
“I can’t tell you that.”
Blake cursed a blue streak, and Hannah put her hand on his thigh, fighting a smile.
“Don’t worry, I’ll clean it up when we get there.”
“We gotta get him some doggie Dramamine or something. Real dogs don’t get carsick.”
“Come on, he’s just a puppy. Besides, I was on the verge of decorating your dash before you slowed down.”
“Gross, Han. That’s too vivid.” One of his hands came off the wheel to cover hers, and he laced his fingers with hers.
“Sorry, but it’s true. You drive like you’re literally hugging the curves.”
“It’s how I learned, and I’ve never had any complaints before.”
