If the Sun Never Sets (If Love 2)

“You need to get out of those clothes, or you’ll get sick,” Farrah said. “And don’t you dare make a sexual innuendo right now,” she added when Blake opened his mouth to speak.

“Okay.” The mischievous glint in Blake’s eyes told her he may not be saying it, but he was thinking it.

Farrah’s lips inched up before she caught herself. “Don’t take this as anything more than basic human decency, but you can shower and change at my place.”

Blake followed her silently into her apartment, where a freshly showered Olivia was reading one of her erotica books on the couch. Other than an arch of her eyebrow, she didn’t look surprised to see a soaking wet Blake enter her living room. “Blake.”

“Liv.” Blake returned her greeting.

“I’m going to be in my room. All night,” Olivia announced. She closed her book, stood, and left, but not before shooting Farrah an I-told-you-so look, which Farrah ignored.

While Blake took a shower, Farrah tossed his clothes into the laundry and fixed a cup of hot tea, all the while trying to sort through her tangled web of thoughts. How long had Blake been standing out there? It’d been snowing for hours. He was bundled up, but dammit, why hadn’t he had the common sense to leave after the snowstorm intensified? Lord knows how long he would’ve stayed had she not gone outside.

A burning sensation spread behind Farrah’s eyes. Her heart ached so much her hand trembled and she almost spilled the tea all over herself.

The sound of the shower turned off, and Blake stepped out of the bathroom dressed in a pair of men’s sweatpants and a purple Thayer University T-shirt. The blue tinge had subsided from his skin, thank God but a dark scowl marred his chiseled face.

“Drink this,” Farrah instructed, shoving the tea into his hand. “It’ll warm you up.”

“Thanks.” Blake took the mug but didn’t drink. Instead, his eyes bored into hers, as if searching for the answer to a question he hadn’t asked yet. “Who do these clothes belong to?”

“Excuse me?”

“These clothes.” A muscle ticked in Blake’s jaw. “Don’t tell me you just have men’s clothing lying around.”

She shrugged. “Maybe they’re an old boyfriend’s. Or a current fling’s. I don’t remember.”

A growl emanated from his chest. “You don’t have a current fling. I would’ve seen him—and killed him.”

“I could’ve snuck him in the back.” Farrah’s smile was sweeter than pie. Never mind the fact that the back of the building was sketchy as hell and she would never use that entrance; she relished Blake’s glower even as guilt nibbled at her stomach for making him suffer after he nearly froze to death.

The guilt won out, and she sighed. “The clothes belong to my cousin, okay? He visits sometimes and always leaves some of his shit behind. Not that you have any right to be jealous,” she added, jabbing a finger at his chest. It was like poking a brick wall. “Plus, you didn’t answer me earlier. What the hell were you doing out there?”

“Waiting for you.” A glimmer of satisfaction replaced the jealousy stamped on Blake’s face. “It worked. You came.”

Farrah couldn’t believe it. She was in love with a fucking idiot. “You have zero sense of self-preservation,” she fumed. “You could’ve died!”

The burning sensation behind her eyes returned.

“I’m still alive. But it’s nice to know you care,” Blake teased.

A tear slipped out, and she wiped it away angrily. “Of course I care,” she snapped. “I don’t want anyone dying because of me.”

Blake’s expression morphed into one of alarm as more tears tracked down her face. “Hey, don’t cry. I’m here. I’m fine.” He drew her into his chest, and she let him, burying her face in his shoulder while he stroked her hair with soothing motions. “Shh. It’s okay.”

Sobs rolled through Farrah’s body. It was beyond embarrassing, considering she was still supposed to be angry with him, but seeing him outside, shivering and soaked to the bone, had cracked the ice around her heart. She’d imagined, just for a second, what it would be like to live in a world without Blake, and the thought was so devastating she couldn’t breathe.

For all his faults and misdeeds, Blake had always been her light, her rock, her center of gravity. Without him, the earth would surely fall off its axis and plummet into oblivion.

Another sob ripped through her before Farrah mustered the strength to shove him away and glare at him. “Don’t you ever do that again, you hear me?” She hiccupped. “I don’t know what you were trying to prove, but it was beyond stupid.”

“Okay.” Blake raised his hands in acquiescence. “I won’t. But I don’t regret doing it.”

He was impossible. “Blake—”

“No,” he said firmly. “Listen to me. You said actions matter more than words, and you were right. I screwed up by pushing you away in the past, by not trusting you when you trusted me, but that’s not me anymore. I’m done running.” He swallowed hard. “I know forgiveness might be too much to ask, but is there even the smallest chance you’d let me let you in? To show you I’ve changed, and that I’ll be here, no matter how hard the snow falls or how much shit goes sideways?”

The ache in Farrah’s chest grew. “I want to,” she whispered. “I really do. But every time I look at you, I remember that night in Shanghai and that night in your apartment. You shut me out and didn’t even give me a chance to be there for you. Twice. I can’t just forget. Not yet.”