by Lydia Rowan
“Wait. Cody, you think you mean it? I’m sorry, honey,” she said, her face and voice turning sympathetic.
“Don’t fucking patronize me, Blakely. And don’t tell me how I feel.” He bit out the words in a hard voice that had her eyes widening.
“I just thought… I mean…”
“Why does the idea that I love you, that I’m in love with you, leave you speechless?” he asked.
“It’s just so…silly. Cody, I don—”
“Shut up, Blakely,” he said, unwilling to listen to anything else that might come from her mouth, wondering how he could have so badly misread the closeness that he’d sensed growing between them, and feeling like the world’s biggest, blindest, stupidest fool.
Mercifully, she complied.
He pulled onto the road and drove back to Thornehill Springs as fast as he could, and he didn’t spare her another glance.
••••
The grim ride back to Thornehill had been such a stark contrast to the joy of the skydive and their passionate lovemaking on the side of the road that Blakely could hardly believe that all three events had occurred on the same day. But they had, and if Cody’s angry demeanor and the waves of rage that wafted off him hadn’t been clue enough to the seriousness of the situation, that fact that he wouldn’t look at her and hadn’t even put his car into park when they’d reached her place more than confirmed how critical and how delicate this situation was.
Her initial response hadn’t been the greatest but still, she was confused. They had an agreement, had gone into this thing with their eyes wide open, and she didn’t exactly know how to react now that he’d tried to change the rules. Her logical mind told her to let it lie, but she couldn’t leave things like this, needed to make sure that they were still all right.
A quick glance showed that he was still stewing, his hands wrapped tight around the steering wheel, his face flat, emotionless. Girding herself for his response, Blakely again tried to reason with him.
“Cody, I’m sorry. I—”
“I! Is that the only word you know?” he yelled, the flatness in his expression giving way to a riot of raw emotion. And then, in the blink of an eye, he went deadly calm. “Get out.”
The words were low, lethal, and for a moment, Blakely feared he would push her out if she didn’t do as he bade. She dismissed that thought, though. Cody was mad—practically throbbing with seething rage—but he wouldn’t hurt her. It also seemed he wouldn’t talk to her, so reluctantly she got out of the car, wondering what she’d need to do to make things right and get back into the good graces of the man she’d so come to crave.
The instant she closed the car door, he was speeding off and had rounded the corner in two seconds flat. His place was in the opposite direction, but she doubted he cared. Being anywhere but with her seemed to be his only goal. She stood on the sidewalk for a few minutes and then headed up her porch and into her house, not letting her eyes linger on the clutter or the progress she’d made in clearing some of it. Instead, she kept focused on the day, the good parts of it.
Their…misunderstanding had been an unfortunate way to end what had been a lovely day, one of her best in fact. She just had to give him some time to simmer down. She was sure he’d see reason, realize that whatever he thought he was feeling was just a fluke, a trick of the mind, a side effect of the newness of all this and what they’d shared. Then they could get back to normal.
Yes; that was it. She’d give him some space, let him relax tonight, and they’d laugh about this tomorrow. Because there was no other option. Cody didn’t love her; he couldn’t. If he did, she’d have to acknowledge the feelings she’d tried so hard to suppress, have to admit that she loved him back. Admit that she wanted him in her life, that she needed him in her life.
And in the end, she knew she’d hurt him, push him away. Or he’d get bored and move on. And she’d be left alone to pick up the pieces.
Chapter Fifteen
Cody didn’t bother to put on a shirt as he walked toward his door. As fun as it had been to shock those old ladies, he didn’t think they’d hunted him down for a repeat performance. He only knew a handful of people in town well enough for them to visit him unannounced, and none of them, save one, would do so at nine in the evening. And a shirt wouldn’t be necessary with her anyway. Either she’d come to apologize and beg his forgiveness, which he’d be happy to give if she would only ask, or she wouldn’t be staying long enough to make the effort of dressing worth his while.
When he opened the door, he stared down at her, trying to ignore the wild pounding of his heart and his elation at seeing her. She was dressed in her tailored black slacks and a purple silk shirt, not a hair out of place. And as was so often the case, he was again struck by her devastating beauty. The urge to reach out, to have her soft curves fill his arms again, to take her, rose unbidden. Over the two weeks since he’d seen her, that need had hit him more times than he could count, but never as acutely as it did with her here in the flesh, close enough to touch. No surprise really, though. Physical attraction had never been a problem for them. Everything else, on the other hand…
“Are you still having your pout, or are you ready to get back to normal?” she asked in that superior, unyielding tone that he’d loved so many times before but that, in this moment, he hated.
“Good-bye, Blakely,” he said as he went to close the door.
“Wait, Cody.”
Despite his anger he stopped and looked at her again, and again saw the haughtiness in her stance. But he saw something else too, a touch of that vulnerability she’d so grudgingly shown, a glimpse of the woman he loved. She quickly schooled her features, but he’d seen it nonetheless. And as much as he hated that, wished that he was immune to her, he wasn’t.
“What do you want? You’ve already made your position quite clear,” he said, his voice icy.
“May I come in?” she asked, turning her head to look up and then down the street.
“Oh, don’t want to air our dirty laundry, Blake? Afraid someone might see you?”
“I don’t care about dirty laundry, but I would like to talk to you without everyone in the Thornehill Springs hearing what I say.”
She had a point. He was new to this whole small-town thing but not so new he didn’t see the people peeking out of curtains on his quiet street.
He stepped aside and let her enter, trying to ignore the desire she stirred when she brushed against him.
“Well?” he said shortly.
“Cody, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. You know how I am.”
He crossed his arms and allowed himself a little smile at the way her gaze landed on his chest.
“How are you? And you didn’t hurt my feelings, Blake. What you did was worse. You told me what my feelings are and tried to pretend that they didn’t exist.”
“Cody…” She trailed off, looking wounded, hurt.
But he was undaunted. He accepted her for who she was, loved her, but not enough to let her dictate his feelings. To call them a lie.
“What? I’m supposed to pretend that whatever you say goes, that I don’t feel what I feel? You believe that you know me better than I know myself?”
“You know that’s not it, but love…” She cut off short, and he could see the distance she was building between them, and suddenly he felt all the energy drain from him.
“Fine, Blake,” he said and he crossed to his door. “I don’t love you. Good night.”
A fleeting panic rose in her eyes, but she quickly squashed it and then gave him a tight smile, looking satisfied.
“Good. I’m glad you’ve seen reason. We’ll talk tomorrow?” she said.
“I’m leaving.”
Surprise animated her gaze.
“Forever? Are you coming back? When? Where are you going?”
She said the words in a rushed jumble, panic and concern bleeding through in her voice. It pulled at him, made him want to protect her, soothe it away, but he couldn’t.
Wouldn’t.
So he said nothing, just stared at the woman who’d broken his heart as she waited expectantly. But he still said nothing.
Tortured moments passed, and he almost lost his resolve. But he stayed firm. He hadn’t asked her for much, and certainly not her love, something that even now he wanted so very badly. All he needed was for her to accept his, but she hadn’t. Whether because she couldn’t or because she’d chosen not to was not his problem. All that mattered was that she hadn’t and to him, that meant there was nothing else to discuss.
“Maybe I’ll see you when you get back. Cody, please, come back,” she whispered as she left.
••••
Blakely managed to keep her composure until she got home. But her door clicking closed was like a lock opening her tears. They came hot and fast, and she was so tired, exhausted, really, she let them flow unabated. She hadn’t wanted this to happen. She’d just needed to help Cody see that whatever he thought he felt, whatever obligation he’d taken, wasn’t necessary. Cody pitied her, but she wouldn’t let that pity cloud his judgment.
Being with him was enough; she didn’t need more. She could acknowledge that hearing those words, so heartfelt and sincere that for a split second she’d almost believed them, was wonderful, amazing in a way she hadn’t let herself believe possible, so amazing that it had almost taken her breath away.
But she wouldn’t take anything else from Cody. He’d been there for her in a way that no one else ever had. And even more, she wanted him to be there, craved him…needed him. And she couldn’t allow that. If she let herself get caught up, let herself fall into a pretend world where Cody actually loved her and she wasn’t too broken to love him back the way he deserved, the wreckage that would be left when he came to his senses—and he would come to his senses—would destroy her.
Chapter Sixteen
Six Weeks Later
Blakely thought she would shatter.
She missed Cody, worried more for him than she had for anyone in her entire life, herself and her parents included. She’d fallen into the habit of passing his house, hoping. Not for herself, for them, but just for some sign that he was okay. And each time she saw his darkened windows, his home still and devoid of life, her heart seized. And each day that passed, her worry only increased.
Which was the reason she found herself seeking Matt. She allowed a moment to admire how nice his house looked, remembering it well from childhood, how it had slowly fallen into despair as the years had passed, how they’d both sworn that they would leave this place and never look back. But he’d changed his mind and now, she realized, so had she.
Coming back had been tentative, a rest but not a return, a time she’d viewed as a chance for her to lay the ghosts of the past to rest and then move on to the rest of her life. But no more. For better or worse, Thornehill Springs was her home. Even if at the moment, every inch of it reminded her of Cody, of what she’d tossed away, it didn’t matter. She’d found her home and finally, some measure of peace.
“Nice job on the restoration,” she said as Matt stepped out onto the porch.
He shrugged. “It was simple enough once I got the deed. It just needed a little elbow grease.”
“Mathias, you can barely change a tire. Are you suggesting you did this yourself?”
“I might have learned a thing or two while you were gone,” he said.
She looked at him, and he laughed.
“Fine. I hired a contractor. But signing checks can be hard work, BB.”
She sat on the porch steps and he followed suit.
“How many days did we sit just like this?” she asked.
“Too many to count,” he responded.
She smiled, letting the memories play in her mind.
“Careful, Blake. You look almost happy, and I wouldn’t want anything to get in the way of your hatred, make you think of this place as anything other than hell.”
She sighed. “I never hated the place, Matt. Not really.”
“Did a good job of fooling me,” he responded in that way of his.
“Did a good job of fooling myself too. Seems to be a specialty of mine.”
“Are we still talking about the same thing?” he asked.
“How is he, Mathias?” she said, turning to stare her friend in the eye.
“Don’t know,” he answered. “But the kid’s too cocky to die. He’ll be back.”
She chose to believe him, couldn’t contemplate anything else. Whether he’d want to see her again, though, was another matter.
“You love him?” Matt asked.
“Am I even capable of love?” she responded.
He threw a heavy arm around her shoulders and shook her like he had so many times before.
“Come on, BB. Of course you are. You’re just a little out of practice is all,” he said, the smile on his face reminding her of the boy he used to be, while reminding her that she’d also tossed away the chance to get to know the man he’d become. But that was one thing she could fix.
“I hope you’re right, Matt.”
He gave her a commiserating squeeze and then stood, offering her a hand. “We’re too old to sit on stone steps. Let’s go to the lake. I haven’t been there for years.”
She glanced away, unable to stop the smile that bloomed at mention of the lake.
“Blakely…? Come on. Tell me you and Sommers didn’t befoul our special place?”
“Fine. I won’t tell you,” she said, laughing at the incredulity that covered Matt’s face.
“I’m kicking Cody’s ass when he gets back. And I can’t believe you’d do that! That place was pure!”
“Come on, Matt. What about you and Sarah Whatshername back in tenth grade? Rumor has it, you did some lake befouling of your own.”
His eyes widened in surprise. “You knew about that?”
“This is Thornehill Springs, remember? You know everyone knows everyone else’s business here,” she said, laughing again at the guilty yet defiant look on his face.
“Well, that was a necessity. You and Sommers have houses to handle your business,” he said, his voice fading on a shudder of disgust.
“And oh boy, did we,” she said, laughing even harder at his death glare.
“Jesus, TMI. Keep this up, and I’m going to tell you all about Sarah Whatshername. And her sister,” he said as he led her up the front porch.
Chapter Seventeen
Five Weeks Later
It was good to be home.
The place was eerily quiet, had the sad, somewhat neglected air of a place that hadn’t been inhabited for a long while. Mail was stacked neatly on the coffee table, but his cactus plant, the sole living thing in the house, drooped and was brown around the edges. He’d have to give Poole a hard time about his lack of a green thumb. Still, dying plant and neglected air aside, he was overjoyed to be back at his place.
The only thing missing was her.
He’d stayed focused on the mission, put all of himself and his training to use, but in those few precious moments of downtime, he’d felt the ache of her absence and the way they’d left things. As he stood in his home, remembering the first time they were together, all the times after the first, that ache blossomed into full-blown pain. She’d said he didn’t love her, believed that he didn’t, but that wasn’t true. And it might have been better if she were right. That way, he wouldn’t be here, home and safe for the first time in months and unable to enjoy it for longing for her.
He flinched at the knock on the door.
He didn’t know what he was expecting, but Blakely standing on his front steps wearing a tank top and cutoff jean shorts wasn’t it.
For a split second, he saw unadulterated joy. It was gone as quickly as it had come, but the distance he usually saw did not take its place. She seemed almost at peace. It looked good on her.
“I saw the light. I know Matt comes by, but I hoped…” She trailed off.
“Okay,” he said as he crossed his hands over
his chest. It was defensive, unwelcoming, but no matter how she’d filled his thoughts, he wasn’t ready for her or the emotions she stirred, not yet.
“I’m glad you’re back,” she said tentatively.
“Me too,” he responded.
Ignoring the pained look that marred her features, he stood silent, waiting.
“Good-bye, Cody,” she said. Then she turned and left.
••••
Two days later, he found himself on the path to Blakely’s, walking down the wide tree-lined street, his entire focus on the large porch with three purple plants placed at perfectly even intervals lining the stoop. After jogging up the stairs quickly, he knocked hard before he could change his mind and waited. The muffled sound of footsteps approaching and the shadow of a small form that he could make out through the beveled-glass windows that framed the door showed that she approached.
The footsteps stopped at the door, and he heard her shuffling behind it, checking the peephole. When she pulled open the door, her expression was as it always was, guarded and questioning, but there was a faint softness to her eyes, a hopefulness he couldn’t recall seeing before.
“I thought one of the benefits of living in a small town was that you didn’t have to lock your door?” he said quickly.
“I’ve been gone too long,” she replied, her voice easy, pleasant.
Her brow quirked slightly, she stood, hand on the door, and stared at him. He did the same, taking in her neat hair, the pale green T-shirt that flattered her body and the tailored jeans she wore. He glanced at her feet, which were bare and quite incongruous with her otherwise put-together look. He thought the little slip in her facade made her even more beautiful.
“Come sit with me,” he said softly, tilting his head toward the swing on her porch.
That hadn’t been what he’d intended when he’d decided to come here. He’d been restless, had halfway convinced himself that if he could just see her, maybe lose himself in her sweet body, he’d be all right. But just this glimpse of her had soothed him, made him remember how much he’d missed her, how much he still loved her.