“Annie, what are you doing?”
“Going home with my husband.” Her chin was lifted, her eyes daring him to argue with her.
“Don’t do this, Annie. Don’t make it any harder than it already is.”
“No, Blake, you have that wrong. I’m not the one making this hard. You are. You, with your antiquated thoughts of a man always having to be the strong one. Open your mind a bit, would you? The world has changed. Life has changed. We have changed. Now are you going to tell me where the car is or not?”
Four different parties had stopped to look at them in the garage, as they passed on the way to their vehicles.
That was the only reason Blake led Annie toward the Continental, unlocked the trunk and went to lift her bag inside beside his own.
“I can get it,” she said, hauling the thing up with one hand and
easily depositing it in the trunk.
She moved to the passenger door. Instinctively going to open it for her, Blake stopped. Annie was trying to make some kind of point, and he knew her well enough to know that she’d make it one way or another, sooner or later. He’d just as soon have it be sooner, so he could get her out of his car and safely back to River Bluff.
Climbing in beside her, he put the key in the ignition but didn’t start the car.
“What’s going on, Annie?”
“We are, Blake,” she said, half mimicking him. But her gaze had softened, with compassion, vulnerability, and also a knowing determination that he didn’t think he’d ever seen there before.
“My father committed suicide,” she said bluntly, reminding him of another thing he loved about Annie. She was always surprising him.
“I know.”
“It wasn’t his fault.”
“I believe that.”
“I didn’t. Not for a long time. He was a good man, Blake. He lived a good life. Created beautiful things, not only with his hands, but with his love. He made our family.”
“Of course he did.”
“He cared for us as long as he could, and when he couldn’t anymore, we cared for ourselves, because that’s what families do. They take up the slack for the people they love.”
Blake could see where she was going with this. And couldn’t let her do it.
“I love you, Blake Smith. More than life. More than anything I can think of. I’m not complete without you. And I’d rather live my life mad at you sometimes, frustrated with you, but always loving you, than be alone without the risk of ever having you hurt me again.”
“I can’t, Annie.” His heart almost burst with what it took him to say that. “I just can’t.”
“You don’t trust me.”
“I don’t trust me.”
“Well, I do. And that’ll just have to be enough for both of us.”
He had to make her see.
“I mean it, Blake. I’m not getting out of this car until you take me to your home, where I would like to be carried over the threshold. And then I need some loving. Lots and lots of it. Hours of it. Until you’re so exhausted you can’t possibly climb out of our bed, and you fall asleep in my arms instead.”
“I have a night stalker.” He’d never have believed he’d say the words, if he hadn’t just clearly heard them.
“A cat that comes around?” Annie asked, frowning.
“No. A demon that opens my bedroom door at night and jumps on my chest.”