If the Sun Never Sets

by Ana Huang

  Something flickered in his eyes. “I’m fine, but I’d rather be alone. It’s a whiskey and me kinda night. No intruders allowed.”

  His cool, dry delivery made his words sting even more.

  “You’ll drink yourself to death.”

  Blake shrugged.

  Frustration curled in her gut. “What happened in Texas?”

  “What makes you think something happened in Texas?”

  “You left as your normal self and you came back—” Farrah stopped before she said something that’d put him on the defensive. “Is it your dad? Did he say something?”

  “It’s not my fucking dad.” Blake’s eyes sparked. Finally, a hint of life. “He’s the least of my problems.”

  “Then what is it?” she asked softly.

  “None of your business.” His jaw clenched. “I mean it. Leave now.”

  Her chin angled at a stubborn tilt. “Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Dammit, Farrah.” Frustration leaked into Blake’s voice and broke his icy facade. “Stop being so stubborn. This is for your own good.”

  Indignation sparked in her chest. “Then stop treating me like a child. Tell me what’s going on and let me decide for myself. I’m a grown woman. I can decide what’s good for me or not.”

  “Fine. You want to know what happened in Texas?” Blake closed the distance between them, and Farrah gulped at the sheer pain radiating from him. She wanted to grab him, press him tight to her chest, and never let go. Not until that pain disappeared. “I realized you were smart not to trust me.” He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. “You never should’ve accepted my job offer, even though I insisted. You should’ve taken one look at me that day at The Aviary and walked the hell away.”

  A vice wrapped around her throat and squeezed. This conversation wouldn’t end well. Farrah could feel it in her bones. But there was no way to go but forward, even if it meant falling off the cliff. “Why?”

  “Because I’m not a good person. I’m a selfish bastard, Farrah, and when I want something, I’ll stop at nothing to get it.” Blake’s eyes brewed with regret. “I wanted you, more than anything, and I pursued you, even though I knew I didn’t deserve you. Even though I knew I’d hurt you one day. So, this is your chance to leave before that happens.”

  Too late. He was already hurting her, slicing her open piece by piece. With his words, with his bitterness, with his belief that he wasn’t good enough.

  This was the part of Blake most people didn’t see. On the surface, he was confident and self-assured, but underneath the polished veneer lived a boy filled with doubts and insecurities, who was afraid he’d never be able to live up to the expectations the world had of him.

  Farrah loved both parts equally—if he would let her.

  “You’re a good person to me,” she whispered.

  “For now.” Blake rested his forehead against hers, his face taut with torment. “You don’t know the thoughts that run through my head. The things I’ve done. I always end up hurting the people I love, and the scary part is, I almost never do it on purpose. It just happens. Walk away from me now, Farrah, before you’re in too deep, and I break your heart again.”

  The backs of Farrah’s eyes burned. “You say I don’t know the thoughts that run through your head? Tell me. You say I don’t know the things you’ve done? Show me. Let me in, Blake. Don’t push me away.”

  A frustrated groan rose in his throat.

  Blake wrenched away; his warmth disappeared, and merciless cold rushed to fill the void. Its icy needles stabbed at Farrah’s skin until they pierced all the way to her heart.

  “I can’t.” The emotionless mask was back.

  “You said you loved me.” Farrah gave it one last shot. “You were the one who asked for a second chance—and I gave you one. You said you’d changed, and I believed you. You want me to trust you again—but how can I do that when you yourself don’t trust me enough to let me in?” Her gaze drilled into Blake’s, willing him to back down, to open up, to do anything except stare at her with those vacant eyes. “Blake, it’s me. You can tell me anything.”

  The seconds ticked by.

  Farrah’s breath stuck halfway down her throat, unsure where to go given the apprehension gathering storm in the air.

  “I do love you.” Blake’s voice cracked. “That’s why I’m letting you go.”

  The breath released as a sob.

  Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

  She should’ve known better, but she did it anyway.

  Farrah fell in love with Blake, again. And he broke her heart, again.

  This time, it wasn’t because of his cruel words and heartless dismissal. She believed him when he said he loved her, and when he said he thought she deserved better.

  No, what hurt was knowing Blake’s love wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough for him to let her in, and it wasn’t enough for him to fight for her. He loved her, yet here he was, letting her go.

  He thought it was noble? She thought he was a fucking coward.

  Blake was taking the easy way out instead of allowing Farrah to see the darkness within him. Even though she wanted to see it. Darkness didn’t scare her. A part of her reveled in it because it was only under the cloak of darkness that people dared show their true selves. Everything—the good, bad, and ugly—came out at night. But contrary to popular belief, those ugly parts didn’t detract from a person. No, they made them whole, and there was nothing in this world more beautiful than completeness, nothing more breathtaking than knowing someone loved every last bit of you—including the pieces you hated about yourself.

  If the sun never sets, the stars will never shine.

  But Farrah would never be able to show Blake the beauty of darkness. He wanted all of her but refused to give her all of him, and she could tell by the stubborn set in his jaw and the flintiness in his eyes that there was nothing she could say that would make him change his mind.

  If she told him she loved him, that would only make him retreat further.

  Something else brewed in her gut next to the hurt: anger.

  “That’s your final answer then?” Farrah’s voice was lava, hot with fury until it cooled and hardened with a thick, hard crust. “You’re letting me go because you quote-unquote ‘don’t want to hurt me?’ Without even telling me what brought this all on? Without even trying to make it work?”

  Blake didn’t answer. Other than a convulsion of his throat, he just stood there like a beautiful, emotionless statue, carved out of marble and cold to the touch.

  There was nothing left to say.

  Farrah stepped around him and twisted the doorknob.

  Stop me.

  The hallway’s plush carpet muffled the sound of her footsteps as she walked toward the elevator.

  Trust me.

  She pressed the “down” button, her eyes burning so wildly the flames engulfed her entire body, and she tasted ashes in her mouth.

  Fight for me.

  But Blake never did.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The next month bled by in a string of miserable mornings and starless nights.

  Blake tracked the passing of time, not with a calendar but with the shards of his heart. One day, one piece added to the world’s most fucked-up hourglass, until he had nothing left to give.

  His life had fallen apart yet again, and without Farrah’s light, all that seeped through the cracks was an ugly dark ooze. It contained everything Blake hated about himself—his deepest fears, his worst memories, his most selfish acts and shameful thoughts.

  When he’d returned from Texas, he’d had two choices: tell Farrah the truth about Cleo’s pregnancy, including the fact that he’d never actually cheated on her, or let her go.

  The first was the one he’d been so tempted to take. But it was also the selfish choice because even if Blake hadn’t cheated on Farrah, he’d never deserved her in the first place.

  Plus, Cleo’s father had been right. Blake did screw up people�
��s lives. He hurt the people he loved, even when he didn’t want to.

  His mom. His sister. Farrah. Cleo. Even his dad, if his dad could hurt.

  If Blake stayed with Farrah, he’d hurt her again. It was inevitable, his curse.

  So he’d let her go—even if it meant losing himself in the process.

  “Hey, man. Congrats on the opening.” Landon strode up to Blake, dressed in a black Hugo Boss jacket and jeans. The dress code for LNY’s opening night was dressy casual, and the guests had followed it to a tee. “This party is killer.”

  “Thanks.” Blake slapped on a smile because that was what everyone expected from him. There was no room for darkness tonight, only the lights that blazed throughout the bar and the stars in attendance. Socialites, celebrities, and business moguls alike drifted through Legends, and judging by their laughs and chatter, LNY was a massive hit—three stories of entertainment and escape that had already generated so much buzz they couldn’t keep up with the media requests.

  The first floor was classic Legends: a sports bar swathed in the same upscale, down-home decor that made the brand such a hit in other cities. Antler chandeliers swayed over oak tables with leather booths, and huge flat-screen TVs lined the paneled walls, broadcasting every type of competitive sports game you could think of. The gigantic projection screen and eight rows of stadium-style seating in the corner that were reserved for the biggest sports events: NBA playoffs, the Super Bowl, the World Cup, and the Olympics.

  If someone would rather play than watch games, they could immerse themselves in the rec room heaven that was the second floor, which boasted pool tables, Ping-Pong tables, dartboards, Air Hockey, foosball, beer pong, shuffleboard, board games, and even a miniature bowling alley.

  The third floor was a step up—literally and figuratively—in terms of luxury, featuring a craft cocktail bar that morphed into a nightclub after 11 p.m. It boasted the hottest DJs, the best alcohol, and a 15-foot-tall champagne tower.

  LNY was everything Blake had dreamed of. It marked the transition of Legends from your typical sports bar chain to a sports bar and nightlife franchise that took the company and brand to a whole other level.

  Tonight was the VIP opening; tomorrow was the grand public opening, and it’d be even bigger. But Blake couldn’t summon the rush he usually got when he saw his visions come to life.

  Instead, all he could focus on was Cleo’s voice, echoing in his head in a nightmare.

  “We never had sex. You were wasted, and I brought you to one of the hotel suites to sleep it off. But I was too drunk to drive home myself and all the other rooms were full, so I stayed the night. We didn’t do anything. But you didn’t remember what happened when you woke up, and I was so angry with you I lied.”

  “You were one of my oldest friends. I’d been in love with you since we were fifteen, and you broke my heart. You ran off to Shanghai and left me behind. You humiliated me! To make matters worse, you went and fell in love with some girl you’d known for only a few months. You picked her over me. Me. The person who’s been there for you your entire life. I waited for you. I waited and waited, until you were finally there, and you did the most unforgivable thing you could’ve done: you gave me hope.”

  “You never should’ve dated me, Blake. I would’ve gotten over you, eventually. But you brought me flowers, and you kissed me, and you told me you loved me. You made me fall so hard for you I couldn’t get up, and then you left me there. Alone. That’s why I was angry at you. Even if I said I was ok with us being just friends, I wasn’t. But it was the only way I could keep you in my life, so I lied.”

  Blood rushed in Blake’s ears. A familiar cocktail of emotions oozed through his veins—fury, guilt, shame, shock, remorse. All present and accounted for, like perfect students that never missed a class or an opportunity to torture him.

  “You okay?” Landon’s brow furrowed with concern. “You’ve been acting strange since you returned from Texas.”

  “I’m fine.” Blake sucked down the rest of his whiskey and grinned his thanks at a TV actress who congratulated him as she passed by. “Just tired.”

  He should’ve been an actor. He could give Nate Reynolds a run for his money.

  “I went to a bar that night. I was still so pissed at you, and seeing you…anyway, I had too much to drink again, and I slept with a guy I met at the bar. I don’t remember if we used protection—I wasn’t on the pill anymore—but a few months later, I found out I was pregnant.” Cleo’s lower lip trembled. “It had to be his. He was the only person I slept with after you left for Shanghai. But I didn’t even know his name, and I couldn’t tell my parents that. It’s bad enough I had sex before marriage. If they found out I had a one-night stand and got pregnant by some guy I didn’t know, they would disown me.”

  Blake’s hands tightened around his empty glass.

  He wanted to hate Cleo. He had hated her for the rest of that weekend, when the tension from his outburst at his father’s party hung heavy in the Ryan household and he’d retreated into his thoughts instead of dealing with the fallout. He’d had to mourn his son all over again, only this time, he’d been mourning the loss of what he thought had been his. Something he’d held as truth, that had defined his life for half a decade, upended in minutes.

  Would Cleo have told Blake the truth had the baby been born? Did it matter?

  “You made sense. At least we knew each other. We grew up together, and we dated. Everyone thought we’d end up together, anyway.” Tears tracked down Cleo’s face. “I’m so sorry. I was young and stupid and panicked. The secret has been tearing me apart for the past five years, but I had no idea how to tell you. It didn’t seem right to do this over the phone, or that was the excuse I gave myself. But when I ran into you earlier today, I saw that as a sign.”

  “I hope you can forgive me one day, and that we can have closure. I said it before, and I’ll say it again—I don’t blame you for my miscarriage. It devastated me—us—but it wasn’t your fault. It was an accident. This isn’t to guilt you into forgiving me, but hopefully, it’ll give you the peace you need. We’ve both been through so much. I think it’s time we finally let go of our past and move on.”

  As much as Blake wanted to continue hating Cleo, he couldn’t. Partly because they’d both been at fault—him with the accident, her with the deceit—and partly because he’d been relieved. The scales had evened a bit (though it still tipped heavier on his side), and he hadn’t cheated on Farrah. It may have seemed like a small detail in the grand scheme of things, but not to him.

  But Farrah would never know because his need to save her from himself outweighed his relief.

  “Where’s Farrah?” It was like Landon read his mind, except he didn’t know about Blake and Farrah’s split or what happened in Texas. Blake had been too busy and too miserable to hash out the details with his best friend or anyone else. “I haven’t seen her all night.”

  “She couldn’t make it.” Blake’s smile hurt. That was the thing about fakeness—it made everyone around you feel better but ate at you on the inside.

  “She okay?” Landon’s worried expression didn’t budge. “She wouldn’t miss a big night like this.”

  No, she wouldn’t.

  Not unless Blake forced her to.

  “As far as I know.” Blake was dying for another drink.

  He’d done the right thing, letting Farrah go before she got in too deep with him again. It didn’t matter that it destroyed him to do so; all that mattered was doing the unselfish thing, for once.

  “Is it just me, or is it really fucking hot in here?” Sweat beaded on Blake’s forehead. The air thickened, choking him. He needed to get out of here, but it was his party. He couldn’t leave.

  His head pounded in rhythm with his pulse.

  Thud. Thud. Thud.

  “There are a ton of people here.” The concern on Landon’s face escalated. “Maybe you should—” He stopped short. “Whoa. Is that who I think it is?”

  “Yeah,
Pat spoke to her publicist, and she agreed to—”

  “No, it’s not a celebrity. Blake. Look.” Landon’s eyes gleamed with a strange excitement.

  Blake looked.

  And looked again.

  His jaw dropped.

  What the hell were they doing here?

  “Blake!” Joy waved at him and pushed her way through the crowd, channeling Tinkerbell with her green dress and blonde waves. “Surprise!”

  Behind her trailed Blake’s mother, looking star struck by all the celebrities surrounding her, and a man Blake never thought he’d see step foot in one of his bars: Joe Ryan. His father.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  He’d entered the Twilight Zone.

  That was the only explanation Blake could come up with for his current predicament: sitting in his office at LNY on opening night, across the desk from his father.

  His father. Here. In New York. Wearing a suit, of all things.

  Joe never wore a suit unless he was going to a funeral.

  Maybe this was Blake’s funeral, come too little, too late. He’d already been in hell for the past month.

  “Quite a party you got out there.” Joe looked wildly uncomfortable in his formal outfit. No doubt Blake’s mom put him up to this. His father would never wear a tie of his own volition.

  Blake steepled his fingers beneath his chin. He hadn’t spoken to his father since their argument on Joe’s birthday. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Perhaps not the nicest way to start things off, but his patience ran a short fuse these days.

  Joe’s eyes sharpened. “Watch your tone.”

  “Or what? You’ll send me to timeout?” Blake leaned forward and planted his hands flat on his desk. “I’m a grown-ass man, Dad. I have my own business and my own money. You don’t scare me anymore. You can’t tell me what to do.”

  “Did I come in here telling you what to do?” Joe roared. “You think you’d be more goddamned grateful, considering your mother, sister, and I flew all the way out here for your big night. You know I hate airplanes!”