by Skye Warren
Blake wished he could stand the signature cocktail well enough to get drunk. As it was he still nursed the first one. “Jeremy. Good seeing you.”
He grinned. “Hah, I know you’ve been avoiding me.”
Even sloshed, the man was smart. “Sorry. I’ve been a little distracted.”
“Not too distracted. I heard your semester went great.” He looked smug. “I know you’re thinking about renewing your contract. I’ll give you a few days to think about it before I do the hard sell on you.”
Damn, the man was right again. He had been considering it…once he and Erin were settled. Once she moved in with him. If she moved in with him. He took another drink, wincing at the sickly-sweet flavor.
“Disgusting, I know,” Jeremy continued. “I have a secret stash, if you’re up for it.”
“I was thinking of heading out soon.”
It was ten o’clock. Not exactly late, but he wanted to get to bed at a reasonable time and see Erin in the morning. He had a full suite of activities planned for her that would require most of the hours in the day and most of the surfaces in his house. They had so much time to make up for. His body thrummed in restless, unsatisfied longing. Soon soon soon.
“No, come on. The night’s still young.”
“Maybe, but I’m not.”
“Please, you’re the youngest guy in the room. A couple of guys were going to the faculty basement. Bet you never heard about that when you were a student here.”
Curiosity nudged him. “Okay, what’s the faculty basement? And if you tell me whips and chains, I’m definitely not going with you.”
Jeremy snorted. “Well, it’s going to sound boring compared to that. It’s a recreation room for professors. Sort of a members only type of thing. There’s nice furniture, good liquor, and a pool table that’s been here since the university’s inception.”
“How did I never know about this?”
“Because you weren’t tenured.”
“I’m still not tenured.”
“Call it a sales pitch. You can come see what you’d be missing.”
“Hmm.” He’d always had a soft spot for the school, ever since he was a wide-eyed freshman. It amused him to realize there were new things to discover in a place he’d been for so many years. Blake eyed the room, catching a few curious glances his way as he did.
People looked away quickly. They didn’t want to be caught staring.
Anywhere had to be better than this. “Let’s go.”
Jeremy rounded up a couple of tenured professors that Blake had met before and headed two buildings over and downstairs into the basement. He had promised Erin, and himself, that he would try to rejoin society. That meant more than clocking in and out of a job, whatever it was. It meant the rare social occasion like this. He looked forward to the time Erin would join him at parties like this. If he was going to sneak out of the party early and into some dimly lit recess, he’d far rather be doing it with her.
Inside the faculty basement, there were thick leather armchairs that made him feel like wearing a smoking jacket. The other guys started up a game on the green felt pool table in the corner, but Jeremy came to sit by him. There was something he wanted to talk about, but Blake could be patient. He accepted the offered glass of whiskey and a cigar.
Jeremy settled in opposite him and was quiet for a moment. “I know you and Melinda used to be an item.”
Blake raised his eyebrows. “What of it?”
“Just wondering if there’s anything still between you two.”
Christ. First his goddamn battle scars had to be story time for the group, now he’d been lured by alcohol to talk about his past lovelorn humiliation. Being back in society was a laugh a minute.
“No. It’s over. Very much so.”
“Good to hear it.”
Blake raised his eyebrows. “Why, is there some sort of policy against intradepartmental dating?”
Jeremy laughed shortly. “I hope not. I was thinking of asking her out.”
“Oh.” Well, that put a new spin on their shared nightcap.
A sideways glance. “So, what do you think?”
“About you and Melinda? I think nothing about that. Whatsoever.”
“You must think something. You think she’s too hot for me?”
“The thought hadn’t crossed my mind.” At least he could be honest about that.
“Well, come on. Give me something here. If you’re not trying to get back together, help a fellow out. I know she’s still talking to you, too.”
Hmm. Melinda wouldn’t spill on him and Erin, not anymore, but it would be best not to stir this pot too strongly. He pretended to think about it. And then he actually did think about it. Mosely was a smart guy, and he seemed ambitious enough. Melinda could help support him. Blake was no matchmaker, but it wasn’t a bad setup.
He shrugged. “What the hell do I know?”
“Thanks, man. Real encouraging.”
A surprised laugh burst from him. He supposed he really had been out of the loop for too long. He’d forgotten how to be a friend.
“Shit. Sorry.” He leaned forward, staring into his drink. The sight of amber-colored liquid reminded him of his morning with Erin a few weeks ago, and God, what a morning that had been. He couldn’t wait to repeat it.
Preferably every morning from now on.
Forever. The thought should have scared him, being a standard fare red-blooded male. Especially in light of what had happened with Melinda. But the thought of not forever, of losing her, was the real threat. He would make it official and ask her to marry him, but he might scare her away. Asking her to move in had already been a big step, and she hadn’t said yes yet. She was still young. He felt vaguely guilty tying her down.
Not guilty enough to stop.
Besides, he knew better than anyone that putting a ring on her finger wouldn’t guarantee anything. It hadn’t with Melinda. All he and Erin had to offer each other was one day at a time.
For the first time, he thought it might be enough.
“You should ask her out,” he finally said. “Even if it doesn’t work out, at least you’ll have given it a chance. It’s better than not living.”
The other man studied him. “That sounds like the voice of experience.”
“It is, and you were one of the people who helped bring me back. I owe you for that.”
Jeremy clapped him on the shoulder. “Then come to work with me. A tenured position. The board will approve it in a heartbeat.”
Ah, it seemed they’d arrived at the hard sell portion of the evening. What the hell, he’d known what his answer would be. Teaching was too damn fun.
So was living, he had found out the hard way.
A swig of the expensive liquor. It went down smooth. “Then I accept. Oh, and by the way, can I ask you a favor? Could you send me a copy of the doctorate theses this year?”
“Sure. A little light reading?”
He allowed himself a small smile. “I like to know what the next generation is thinking about. And include the undergraduate senior theses while you’re at it.”
He really did want to know what the next generation was thinking about.
Reading Erin’s thesis would be a bonus.
Chapter Six
Erin
Frantic and dizzy with worry, Erin redialed Blake’s cell phone.
He wasn’t picking up at home either, but she took a chance that he’d fallen asleep quickly. The cab fare was thirty dollars just to get from her apartment to his empty, dark house. Damn. The Faculty Ball had ended at eleven and it was already midnight, so where was he?
She had a flash of panic. What if he were hurt? What if he’d had something to drink and he’d been driving and…no. Calm down. That was the kind of thing that happened in movies, like in An Affair to Remember. Blake was fine. If he did drink, he was probably waiting somewhere until he sobered up enough to drive.
His office, she realized.
He might even be
there to finish up paperwork or clear out his books. It was the type of thing he might do, avoiding socializing under the pretense of some work task. Especially if things had gone poorly. Damn, now she was worried about that too. Her worry was strung up tight like the string of a bow, pulled back and ready to fire. If only she had a damn target.
She returned to the waiting cab and shut the door. “Campus, please.”
“You got it.”
The fare ticked higher as they retraced their steps back toward the university. It was going to take everything she had in her wallet to pay the fare. She’d check the office. He had to be there. Because if he wasn’t, she had no idea where he could be, and she had no other plan.
“Any chance you guys go out of town?” she asked the cab driver.
“Sure. Where you headed?” When she told him the name of her hometown, he plugged it into his GPS. “That’d be a flat-rate trip. Looks like $450 to get you there.”
She almost groaned. Four hundred dollars? Her bank account had that much—but barely. She’d wipe it clean and have nothing left to fix her car with when she got back.
When they arrived at the campus checkpoint, she paid him, hesitantly adding a tip from her meager stash. If she ended up taking the bus, she’d use up the last twenty in her purse and it would be tomorrow by the time she arrived. The cab drove away, leaving her in a cloud of smog. She didn’t have a ride to the bus station now either.
She was running out of options.
The buildings appeared deserted as she walked quickly by.
Moonlight bounced off the pale stone surfaces. She had been here a few times at night for study groups, but now, after the summer semester had ended, no one lingered. She had no idea where on campus the Faculty Ball was being held, but that was probably for the best. Even desperate, she knew better than to crash a party and expose their relationship.
The wide metal doors she normally used to get inside that building were locked. She circled around and found a side door open. Pushing it open, she blinked into the darkness. It didn’t take long to figure out that his office was also dark, and empty. He wasn’t here.
It had been a thin hope anyway.
Feeling a knot of fear for her mother, she wandered outside and sat down on a bench. The grounds were picturesque on the historical campus. Gorgeous lawns and famous statues. She didn’t see any of it. Ancient oak trees and architectural features blurred in front of her.
This was her nightmare.
Knowing her mother needed her and being unable to get there. Three hundred miles felt a continent away. And even once she arrived, she wouldn’t be able to do anything useful. She wouldn’t be able to fix her mom’s heart.
She wouldn’t be able to pay the medical bills.
Helpless.
A trill of laughter from around the corner caught her attention. Then a male voice answered. Damn, she recognized that voice. Wiping her eyes, she sat up straighter. Please, let him walk past me. Tonight luck had abandoned her completely.
Her old boyfriend, Doug, wandered nearer, half dragging an unsteady girl.
Other voices bounced off the walls farther away, and she knew they were his friends. Doug always preferred to travel with a group, even when he was with his girlfriend—which had been her, once upon a time.
“Erin? Is that you?”
She tried to keep her voice from wavering. “Hey. What’s up?”
“What’s up is I’m happy to see you. Goddamn, Erin Rodriguez.” He sounded genuinely happy to see her, and not even drunk. She wondered if he had drawn the designated driver short stick. He turned to the girl on his arm. “Go join the others. I’ll catch up in a minute.” She wandered in the direction of the voices, her stilettos sticking in the lawn.
Knowledge pierced Erin’s worried haze. “Wait, what are you doing here?” she asked Doug. “Don’t tell me you came back for grad school?”
He snorted. “Nah. It’s one of my friends’ brother’s birthday so we hit the bars nearby. I’m just along to keep the little kiddos from hurting themselves.”
“You’re the chaperone?” she asked, her voice wry. “What is this world coming to?”
“That’s what I said, but according to them, I’ve lost my edge. I’m all responsible and grown up and boring now.”
“Welcome to the club,” she said dryly.
He sat down on the same bench, reclining on the opposite corner. “So are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
He gave her a look of reprimand. “We dated for a year and a half. Which, for me, was practically a lifelong commitment. I think I can still tell when you’re upset.”
Strangely enough, she could read his emotions as well.
His hair was shorter now, almost a buzz cut instead of the floppy hair she’d loved to run her fingers through. He seemed taller somehow, though it didn’t seem possible he would have grown. His posture was relaxed but expectant.
She read his body language, his face, even without having seen him for years. Familiarity was a strange thing, muted with time but never turned off.
“My mom had a heart attack,” she admitted. “I was trying to get back there tonight, but my car broke down and then…” She didn’t really want to get into the specifics of her roommate being out of town and her secret boyfriend being a professor here. She shook her head. “It just isn’t working out. Maybe I can get a mechanic to repair my car in the morning.”
“On a Sunday morning? Not likely. Let me drive you back.”
She stared at him. “Back home, I mean. The four-hour drive.”
“I know what you meant. I’ll take you there.”
“I can’t put you out that way.”
He looked away. “I owe you that ride anyway, even if it’s in the opposite direction. I’ve always felt bad for ditching you. That was a real dick move.”
She opened her mouth to reassure him. No, it’s okay. I understood. But she didn’t. She hadn’t understood how she could have meant so little to him because of what their parents had or hadn’t done. Because of something outside of her control.
Sighing, she said, “It was a long time ago.”
“It’s never too late to repay a debt. Let me drive you there.”
Temptation tugged at her. In a manner of speaking, he did owe her this, so she wasn’t just inconveniencing a stranger. And she really wanted to get home.
Was her mother awake now? Was she afraid or in pain?
Erin could only hope that the hospital care she received was expert, but what if her mother needed someone to advocate for her? Erin needed to be there, and she had no other way to go. No one else to take her. She glanced at her phone.
Still no return call from Blake.
Would he be pissed about Doug taking her? Would he suspect that she’d been cheating on him? No, she couldn’t believe that. He’d understand when he found out that her mother was ill, when he heard that her car had broken down.
When he saw the twelve missed calls from her.
He had to understand. She’d make him understand.
“Okay,” she said on a resigned breath. “I appreciate it. And if you want, I can drive there, so you can sleep on the way.” She offered this even knowing he would refuse.
“Did I ever, in all the time you knew me, let another person drive my car?”
A reluctant smile touched her lips. “It’s late. You must be tired.”
“Never that tired. Not even for you, Erin.”
“You always loved your car,” she said with a touch of affection.
“Even more now,” he promised. “This one I paid for myself.”
It took almost an hour for Doug to shepherd his friends back to their place and retrieve his car from a parking lot near the clubs. She watched her phone, hoping Blake would see her missed calls. She had begun to worry about him as well, but she had to trust he was safe.
She also had to trust that he wasn’t just ignoring her or off with Melinda.
She only wished that he were here.
As Doug pulled to the curb in a sleek new Audi, she dialed Blake’s number one last time. This time it didn’t even ring, going straight to voicemail.
“It’s me. I got a ride back, with Doug.” She wasn’t sure how to describe him, and she certainly didn’t want to say that guy I told you about who broke my heart. “Don’t worry about me. Everything will be fine. I’ll see you when I get back.”
As she stepped into the low floor of the car, she realized the assurances were more for herself than him. Everything would be fine, with her mother, and with him. With herself.
“You okay?” Doug asked, concerned.
She forced a smile. “I will be.”
Blake
“Fifteen in the corner.” The familiar thud and reverberation of his stick told him he’d shot true. The striped orange ball tipped over the lip of green felt and tumbled in.
His opponent was George Evans, professor of Greek Archaeology. Evans shook his head. “Goddamn. Are you hustling me, Morris?”
Blake snorted. “I wish.”
Though his game had definitely improved. The first shot had been embarrassing. The cue had ricocheted around the table, somehow managing to miss every single goddamn ball.
His eye had escaped the blast unscathed, but his depth perception had been affected. Something about the way the skin formed around it, or rather didn’t form, made a subtle but unmistakable difference.
This was his first time playing pool since the explosion, his first time being around people in a social setting. These men, privately, were kinder than the ones who’d questioned him at the party. They made no comment on his ineptitude and still included him.
Slowly, he learned to compensate for the change. Even when he suspected the others were tired, he’d wanted to continue playing. To keep improving.
To finally learn to deal with his injuries instead of avoiding them.
He circled the table and nodded to the side pocket to signal. Bending at the waist, he lined it up. There was his usual aim, the straight line between his stick, the cue, and the glinting side of the black eight ball. But that was wrong. If he made this shot, the cue would skate past the eight ball entirely and probably end up in the corner pocket, costing him the game.