I turn into the garage of our apartment and park the car, sighing and leaning my head back on the headrest as I savor the quiet moment. I look at my rearview and see Bruce pull up behind me, and I take another minute, closing my eyes and breathing heavily. The best thing I did today was go to a Cubs game with Aubry. Not that I got my mind off any of this shit, but at least I had a couple of beers and chilled out for a while. I know Blake must've been beside herself because she called us a hundred times, and part of me did feel bad for not answering for her. It wasn't until Greg called to tell me that he spoke to her that I realized how worried she was, but by then the game was tied in the eighth inning, and I wasn't going to leave to console her. I did enough of that last night. Hell, I've done enough of that my entire life, and I'll do it for the rest of it, but sometimes it seems like nothing I do is enough.
To add fuel to the fire, I woke up and started making breakfast for her when her phone started chirping. I checked it, expecting it to be Aubry checking in, and was unpleasantly surprised to see Dean's name staring back at me. Not once, not twice, but ten fucking times. Text messages and calls back and forth between the two of them. I can take a lot from Blake, but that shit is too much. And then I try to get her to talk to me and she refuses? Fuck that.
She didn't even reply when I told her how I felt. She just turned around and left me reeling. I thought we were done putting each other through hell, but apparently Blake has other plans. I shake my head in disbelief before getting out of my car and heading to our place. She's probably asleep by now. After the game, Aubry and I went to a sports bar and had dinner and talked more shit, anything to keep me from coming home early. The more I think about it, the more disgusted I am with myself, because in hindsight, I did want her to worry.
I step in, quietly closing the door behind me. I see her standing in the doorway to our room. Her hair is wild, her face blotched red and her gray eyes have that dead look in them that makes my heart stop beating. She's just staring at me as she chews nervously down on her lip. This. This right here is the kind of shit that makes me hate myself. This right here is what makes me crumble and fall at her feet every single time.
"Hey," I say quietly.
"Hey," she barely whispers in return, casting her eyes down.
I take and let out a harsh breath. "I'm sorry."
She nods slowly and shifts on her feet, her hair curtaining over her face so that I can no longer see her expression.
"I had to get out. I needed a break from all this shit. I'm sorry I made you worry," I explain, even though I don't have to. But this is what she does to me, she makes me fucking crazy when she shuts me out and I desperately need her to let me in. Some of my friends that haven't been around us have given me shit over this because they don't understand our relationship. They say it's not normal, not healthy, and I get it, but we can't change our past. We're just two broken people in love trying to heal each other, and despite everything, we don't want to be with anybody else. We've tried countless times and it's never worked, so I don't care what I look like to anybody else. When it comes to Blake, nobody else matters.
Her eyes are sad when she lifts them to meet mine again, which is still better than emotionless. "It's okay. I pushed you away like I always do. I don't blame you for leaving, and I don't blame you if you don't want to stay with me. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't just talk to you when you asked me to. I'm sorry that I've been so weak lately. I'm sorry that you're the one that has to deal with my paranoia and my attitude and my tears and my secrets and…just everything. I'm sorry about everything. I don't want you to hurt with me, because of me, and I know that's impossible if you stay, so I get it," she says with a slight shrug.
My heart is stuck my throat, and I can't even form a coherent reply to that. Instead I walk up to her, watching her as she takes a shaky step back. When I reach her, I place a kiss on her forehead and run the back of my hand slowly down her face before tilting her chin up to look at me.
"I'm not going anywhere," I whisper. "Ever. But you need to stop pushing me away. Your pain is mine, let me carry it with you, for you—I don't care as long as you're with me. I thought we covered this last night and a hundred times before? I want to be with you forever. Forever, Blake. You are everything to me. Now, can I give you that kiss I should've given you this morning?"
Her eyes twinkle as she blinks rapidly. "You're not leaving me?" she asks in a hoarse whisper.
I duck my head and give her a quick kiss. "Never," I murmur before lightly sucking on her bottom lip.
She wraps her arms around my neck and clings on to me. "Please don't leave me like that again. I'm sorry I pushed you away, but please don't leave like that. I thought I lost you for good."
I squeeze her as I stand up straight and carry her to the couch, folding her in my lap as I take a seat.
She kisses me softly before pulling back and cupping my face in her small, cold hands. "I need to tell you something."
I nod and tighten my hold on her. "Tell me everything."
She takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry," she says regretfully and I instantly tense, expecting the worst. "Dean told me that your dad...your dad knew where we were all along," she continues in a shaky voice. "He said he heard Benny talking to someone about me." She shudders at the mention of Benny and I clench my fists.
"Dean says my dad knew where I was when I was kidnapped and he didn't say anything, didn't report it, didn't go get me? And you believe him?" I ask incredulously. She nods slowly with wide eyes. "When I met him, he was just as shocked as everybody else about the entire thing. He didn't even know you were alive."
She tilts her head and searches my eyes for a couple of seconds. "Who put the money into your bank account?"
I blink at her in surprise. "Mark."
"Did you ask Mark?" she asks with a raised eyebrow. "Did you ask him about the farm? Who gave you the farm?"
My heart constricts. "Blake, that's enough!" I say, placing her on the seat beside me so I can stand up. I pace around the room with my hands behind my head as if I've just run a marathon, which is exactly how I feel.
"It's not true. It just can't be true," I state quietly.
"I'm sorry," she says softly. "That's why I didn't wanna tell you."
I take a couple of deep breaths and think about the account I had set up when I was a teenager, the farm that was signed over to me. Now I wish I had paid more attention to details, but I thought hiring a private investigator meant I didn't have to do that shit. Blake comes up from behind me and wraps her arms around me as I stare into the beautiful Chicago skyline. I sigh and lean my body forward, placing my forehead against the cold glass door, and close my eyes. What am I supposed to do with this information? Is it true? Were my birth parents faking their shock to see me alive when I showed up at their house? Did Mark know that they were in on it? Did he know that my parents were going to charity events and climbing up the social ladder, while fake mourning the son they knew was alive and forced to live with a complete stranger at the age of four? Who does that to a four-year-old? What kind of parents do that? A shudder runs through me and Blake tightens her hold on me.
"I'm here, it's okay," Blake coos as she kisses my back. She lets go and steps in front of me, looking at me with pain and sadness in her eyes as she begins to wipe the tears I hadn't realized were falling from my eyes. Funny how the tables turn, and the thought that her pain is this deep, this bad, and most likely worse than I can ever imagine, makes my heart shatter for her. I stand upright and pull her body against mine, breathing her in as we cling to each other like we're the only thing that matters in this world...and to each other, we are.
"What else di
d Dean say?" I ask, his name losing some of its poisonous taste in my mouth.
She shakes her head under me. "That was all he told me. You got there before he was able to say anything else. He just...he said Benny's been pretty absent lately and he's worried about me."
My heart stops beating at the mention of that heartless bastard. "What about Alex?" I whisper.
"He's...I don't know. I don't know. Dean says I shouldn't worry about him. Something about him talking to Liam...my...uh...my dad."
I pull away from her and cup her face in my hands. "How was that? Seeing him?"
She takes a staggered breath before pursing her lips. "Weird. I recognized him, I guess from the pictures. I felt oddly...comfortable with him. His smell, his-" her voice breaks before she clears her throat, "his voice. I don't know, it was just too much for me, not expecting to see him and then he's there. I couldn't."
We move back to the couch and continue holding each other in silence, mulling over the million questions we have no answers to. Blake unfolds herself from my lap and gets up, pulling her hair into a ponytail.
"You know what? We're getting to the bottom of this. Tonight we're getting to the bottom of this!" she says, determined, looking at the kitchen before turning her gaze toward me. "Get up. We're going to see Mark."
I raise an eyebrow as I look at my watch. "Blake, maybe this time you should call him? You don't know if he's home, it's nine o'clock on a Saturday night."
She narrows her eyes before walking away and picking up her phone on the way to our room. My phone buzzes in my pocket and I take it out to see a text from Connor.
Connor: Dude, ur girl is fucking crazy. She wants 2 go 2 my grandfather's house. Just called me. WTF?
My eyes widen as I read his message. "BLAKE! YOU CALLED CONNOR TO TAKE YOU TO BRIAN'S HOUSE?"
"YES! I CAN'T DEAL WITH THIS ANYMORE, COLE! I'M SICK OF SECRETS, I'M SICK OF QUESTIONS, I'M SICK OF NOT KNOWING WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!" she shouts from our bedroom.
I take a deep breath as I type my reply to Connor.