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“I didn’t choose this life.” Her voice came out a hollow whisper.
He held a long silence, leaving her to wonder what went through his mind, or whether he would even say anything. “Neither did I.”
Her shoulders eased with that revelation, her defenses taking a backseat. The course of his life had been pushed offtrack because of her.
No. Not because of me. My father and Anthony did this. But I need to clean up the damage either way.
“I have to see this thing with Anthony through. I have no idea how long that will take or even what will happen. I hope in the end, I’ll be free and you will be there with me, but if you want to go, I—”
The inside of her throat turned thick, and she abandoned the end of that sentence. She’d been about to say she’d understand. And that much was true. She could understand him wanting to leave, to save himself, more than she understood him wanting to stay. But making out like there’d be no hard feelings? That was the disingenuous part. Losing Blaine twice would crush her.
“You know I don’t want to go.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets and frowned at the ground, his forehead twitching as though that honesty hurt him. “I just don’t want you to give me more hope if it doesn’t exist.”
“I’m doing everything I can to free myself from that man.” She stepped closer, wanting to reach out and touch him, though his taut stance left her uncertain if she should. “Bear with me, okay?”
The skin over his exposed collarbone was a mottle of flushed red and white, his overall strain still very much there. “I want to kill that man for what he did to you.”
His fists clenched at his sides, hinting that if Anthony were here right now, he’d be fielding a solid punch to the face.
She understood Blaine’s anger and wanted to defuse it all the same. This date was for her and him, not Anthony, not her dad. Two men who’d stolen enough joy.
So, she lifted a hand to his cheek, where an extraordinary heat wafted off his skin in a physical expression of buried rage. His gaze snapped down to her, somewhat conflicted and heartbroken too, suggesting her touch pulled him from something.
He pressed his hand over hers, and he turned his head, kissing her palm with a tenderness that had her heart palpitating, and her eyes ready to weep again, but for a whole other reason.
“Let’s take this one date at a time.” Her lower lip trembled through her smile, no doubt making her attempt to reassure him not all that convincing. “I know this is nothing like what either of us ever wanted, but I want to focus on the positive. I’m here. I’m free. I have a whole new life to get used to. And I want to get used to it with you.”
“Then thinking positively”—his arms enfolded her, one corner of his lip lifted, and the wrinkles over his forehead flattened—“I might avoid a prison sentence if I just pretend that husband of yours never existed.”
“You do that.” She tipped her head down and pressed her cheek to his chest, the light thud of his heartbeat soothing her own. “And I might give it a try myself.”
They stood there for a while, the lavender rustling and emitting its calming scent, the night air cooling, and Blaine’s arms offering a warm contrast to that cold. She huddled into him, some of her problems shared, but their impact on her life not halved.
“Blaine?” She tilted her head back and drank in the light in his eyes. “Take me home.”
