“Yes.” The word came softer now. It sounded almost afraid, and Erin didn’t want to continue. She didn’t want to be the one to hurt her mother, but she couldn’t continue as if she didn’t know.
“Blake’s father told him that you two were…involved.”
A long silence with only the distant, muffled sound of a slamming car door to fill it. “That’s true,” her mother finally said. “I was young…not as young as you. But much more foolish than you.”
Erin frowned. “It’s not foolish to fall for someone, even if they’re not a good man. We can’t control who we love. You taught me that.”
“That’s right, but you should know, Jeb—Mr. Morris—was a good man. He just made a mistake. There’s a difference.”
“A mistake? He let you get thrown out. He didn’t defend you.”
“I didn’t mean that, sweetheart. I meant having an affair. He cheated on his wife. And even if he cared about me when he did it, that doesn’t make it right.”
Erin had a hard time sympathizing with the Ice Queen after their encounter, but she knew her mother was right. “I guess.”
“And I knew he was married too. I shouldn’t have gotten involved with him. I risked my job for that, and I lost it. I risked our family’s income and being able to care for you.” Her mother sighed, shaking her head. “Like I said, foolish.”
Erin took her hand. She knew how strong her mother was—cleaning houses was intense physical labor. And yet her mother’s hand felt small, almost frail. She squeezed. “I’m sorry for how it turned out, but I never would have wanted you to hold back, to not take a chance on love, just because you had me.”
“Now you understand why I worried for you. That you saw me as a role model, holding myself tight, afraid to be hurt. I feared you would do the same.”
In some ways Erin had done that. She’d blamed being busy with school and work for her lack of relationships. But she could have tried more, if she’d wanted to. She could have taken a chance on love, just like she’d told her mother. Even with Doug, she’d held herself back. It hadn’t been until Blake that she’d been able to do that. Seeing him every week and then every day, learning the kind of man he was. Knowing that he would always protect her.
And finally letting go.
Chapter Eighteen
Blake
“Move,” the man shouted into his headset—telling the pilot to go.
Blake moved to jump out, but the man blocked him. The other man had fifty pounds on him, as well as more nights of sleep in the past 72 hours and more food and water. But Blake had the fucking determination, the certainty that he couldn’t, wouldn’t leave his teammate behind. His last one. The only man left. If it was anyone left on this rock, in this oven, it would be him.
A shot hit the chopper—impossible to know where. It rocked the whole machine, and Blake fell off-balance. The doors were still open, but tilted up, and Blake was sliding back, falling. Every second took him farther from Ricardo, every second took him one more foot in the air.
“No,” he roared, lunging for the doors. It would almost kill him to make the jump now, but he didn’t care. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t fucking be happening.
The guy caught him by the ankle just as he was almost out of the chopper.
He landed hard on the metal grate. The force of his fall swung the chopper far enough that he could see over the edge: the man sprawled on the ground, wounded. And he could see the other men, closing in now that the chopper was leaving range, surrounding him like a pack of wolves.
“No.” This time it was only a quiet sound, stricken. Too soft to hear over the roar of the bird.
Ricardo’s brother. Ricardo.
Something wasn’t right. The bullet must have struck something vital, because the engine was sputtering now. They were still in the air but shifting sideways. At this height they’d crash. They’d burn.
And then they didn’t have to wait that long. A flare of orange out of the corner of his eye was the only clue the chopper would explode in the split seconds before it did, before flames engulfed him, before the force of the blast threw him from the chopper, and then he was falling, falling out of the sky.
Blake
“Blake!”
He jerked awake, heart pumping, body primed to fight an enemy that no longer existed. It took him a second to orient himself, to remember that he was no longer in the jungle in full combat gear, that he wasn’t even in his house and his bed, but was instead in Erin’s childhood room.
He panted while Erin stroked his back.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked.