If the Sun Never Sets (If Love 2)

Arguing with his dad over some small thing—Blake didn’t even remember what—not because it was important but because he was exhausted, and panicked, and trying not to get crushed between the twin weights of starting a business and preparing to be a father.Storming out of his parents’ house with Cleo, despite the thundering rain and hazardous driving conditions.

Not seeing the deer in the road until it was too late.

The car skidding out of control and wrapping itself around a tree.

The blood. The doctors. The devastation. The blinding, suffocating, all-consuming guilt.

Blake’s chest rose and fell with short, heavy breaths. Sweat beaded his forehead; the food he ate at the diner churned in his stomach, making him want to throw up. He wanted to purge himself of everything that was bad and unholy and terrible inside him, but he couldn’t. There was too much of it, and it rooted itself in his gut even as its cancerous reach spread through the rest of his body. Tainting his heart, corrupting his soul.

“Blake?”

He jerked his head up.

Farrah stood in the doorway of the steamy bathroom with alarm splashed across her face.

“I’ve been calling your name for five minutes. Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” The hoarse rasp scraped against his vocal cords. Blake cleared his throat and tried again. “Sorry, I was thinking about something.”

She climbed into bed next to him. It was a huge bed, and there was plenty of space between them, but the weight of her on the other side slowed his breathing and chased some of the demons away.

“Is it the rain?” Farrah’s eyes bore into him, warm as melted chocolate but incisive as a scalpel.

“What makes you say that?” Blake tried to bluff; she wasn’t having any of it.

“How adamant you were about not driving in the rain when we left the diner, and how tense you were the entire drive.” Farrah’s brow wrinkled. “You didn’t have a problem with the rain when we were in Shanghai. What happened?”

“It’s not the rain itself. Not really.” Blake was fine with the rain. He was e

ven fine with driving, though it took two years after the accident before he got behind the wheel again. It was when you combined the two that he had a problem. That, and when he was alone with his thoughts during a storm. It always triggered flashbacks, and without people around to distract him, he’d spiral into an abyss of self-loathing that took him days to dig out of. “But I had an accident, years ago, during a storm. And I haven’t been able to drive in the rain since.”

Farrah’s face softened with sympathy. “I’m so sorry. Was everyone…” She hesitated. “Okay?”

No.

“For the most part. I’d rather not talk about it.” Blake raked a hand through his hair and changed the subject. “Tell me something that made you happy. Really happy.”

He needed a dose of sunshine.

Farrah’s bottom lip disappeared behind her teeth as she contemplated her answer. “My mom and I went to Paris together after I graduated college. Her present to me. The entire trip was fun, but there was one moment when we were sitting on a bench watching the sunset in the Jardin du Luxembourg, eating the most perfect croissant, that I thought…life is beautiful.” She blushed. “It sounds so corny, and it wasn’t a big moment, but it’s one I return to whenever I want to cheer myself up.”

“It’s not corny.” Blake wished he had that relationship with his parents. His dad? Forget it. As for his mom, he loved her, but when push came to shove, Helen Ryan bent beneath his father’s will instead of siding with her son. He didn’t need her to side with him all the time, but once—just once—would’ve been nice. “I’m glad you and your mom are so close.”

“She’s the closest family I have left in this world.” Farrah picked the bottom of her shirt. “Although she’s not too happy with me right now. I finally told her yesterday that I quit KBI.”

Blake winced. “Yelling?”

“Almost shattered my eardrums,” Farrah confirmed.

Blake did a quick mental calculation. He’d hired Farrah a month ago, soon after she quit her job, so she’d been keeping her employment status a secret from her mom for weeks now. “She can’t be that mad. You’re still working, and making damn good money, too.”

His accountant was going to throw a shit fit when he saw how much Blake was paying Farrah, but Blake would cross that bridge later.

“I know, but freelancing isn’t the same as having a steady paycheck. My mom’s all about stability. It was hard enough getting her on board with the whole interior design thing. She’s okay with it now, but when I first told her, she almost had a coronary.”

“Stability doesn’t always equal success or happiness. I know plenty of people in stable jobs who are miserable.”

“Yeah, Asian parents don’t see it that way.” Farrah smiled a crooked smile, and his stomach somersaulted harder than an Olympic gymnast going for gold. “It’s an immigrant thing. My mom will get over it, eventually. She’s pretty liberal, as far as Chinese parents go. It just sucks, feeling like I’ve let her down.”