He’s watching me, really watching me. Every part of me is blushing from the intensity of his stare. A flash of need, hunger, and maybe even guilt shoots across his gorgeous features, but they’re gone in an instant. A gentle breeze sweeps through the night air and makes me shiver. Or maybe it’s his closeness. Either way, my skin prickles, and I hold my breath because those eyes.
God help me.
I can’t concentrate on anything when those eyes are on me.
Without warning, his fingers sink into the back of my hair. He pulls my mouth to his, stopping a split second before our mouths touch, once again robbing me of the kiss I’m so desperate to have. “One day I’ll taste my name on your lips.”
Holy. Shit.
There he goes.
Wanting.
Taking.
Just like I knew he would. And here I am letting him.
His other hand slides across my ribs and around to my ass where he squeezes me hard then pushes my body into his. He’s hard, painfully so, and all I want to do is hook my leg around his hip and grind against him. I realize in this moment that sex with Blaze would be mind-blowing. It would be irrevocably life-altering. Soul crushing.
He runs the tip of his nose along my cheekbone, stopping right before my ear. “This is not something I do often. Or something I take lightly. I just thought you should know that.”
I want to believe him. Every part of me tells me I should. Blaze isn’t like Jake or even like Brody. He’s not like anyone I’ve ever met.
On the one hand, I’m terrified of where my answer will take me. On the other, I need to be confident because if he thinks for a moment that he’s scared me, he might change his mind. I’m a living, breathing paradox.
I don’t want him to change his mind.
He wants sex.
I miss sex.
He doesn’t want to date.
I don’t either.
I’m just not sure I’m ready to let him inside my soul.
“Can I have a minute to think about it,” I say, breathless.
He pulls back and stares at me with this smirk-like grin that is unintentionally but undeniably sexy as fuck. “Take as long as you need, babygirl. I’m not going anywhere.”
That’s what I’m afraid of.
Blaze laughs to himself. “Well, except for home. Right now. To take a cold shower.” He winks, and I melt.
I am liquid.
Lava.
Hot and simmering.
I step away and bite down on my bottom lip as he climbs into his car and backs out of the driveway. His windows are tinted, but I feel his eyes on me even in the darkness. I lower my head to keep him from seeing the flush in my cheeks at the thought of him wet, naked, and hard.
Because of me.
I wrap my arms around myself and watch until the red trails from his taillights disappear.
“Well, that was hot.” The sound of Haley’s voice makes me jump.
“Jesus. How long have you been standing there?”
She’s leaning one shoulder against the door frame, the front door open behind her. I glance over her shoulder and pray none of the boys are in the living room. They aren’t, thank God.
Haley scoops her spoon into the pint of ice cream she’s holding. How in the heck doesn’t she weigh a hundred more pounds? “Long enough to know he wasn’t just here to bring Liam home.” She stuffs the spoon into her mouth and raises her eyebrows.
“You can’t say anything about this, Haley. Please.” I’m not even sure what this is.
She pulls the spoon out of her mouth and uses it to cross her heart. “I won’t say anything.” She dips the spoon into the pint again. “I just want to know how you did it.”
“Did what?”
“Got Blaze Abbott to notice you.”
I can’t tell if she’s being condescending or if she genuinely wants to know. Haley is one of those people who could slice your heart open with a smile and you’d end up thanking her for it. She’s the girl you want to hate because she’s so perfect, but you can’t because she’s so perfect.
My heart thrums. “I doubt that’s anything special.” I hope it’s something special.
Haley laughs, like belly laughs, bending at the waist and nearly snorting when she straightens back up. “You’re kidding, right?” When I don’t answer, her face grows serious. “You mean you don’t know?”
“Know what?”
“Girl. Many have tried… and failed. Blaze Abbott doesn’t date. He doesn’t even flirt. Trust me when I say that. I’ve seen it myself. I get embarrassed for the poor girls who throw themselves at him week after week. He doesn’t even have social media. The guy does not like attention.”
Haley judges everything about a person based on their social media status. I remember when I first moved here, and she found out I didn’t have an Instagram account. She freaked out and insisted I join the twenty-first century. The only posts on my page are the ones she puts there. It turns out, I don’t like attention either.
“What’s his story? Why doesn’t he date?”
As soon as the question leaves my lips, an unsettling feeling washes over me like I want to know, but I don’t really want to know.
Haley’s hand falls to her side, leaving the ice cream forgotten. “Somewhere around three years ago, his girlfriend died in a car accident.”
A million feelings race between my heart and my mind. My throat is thick and dry, and I can’t seem to form any words. Her eyes meet mine in a clash of emotions. I’ve never seen Haley so torn. It’s like an unspoken warning letting me know her next words are about to shatter me.
She lowers her voice to a near whisper. “She was pregnant.”
I pull in a deep breath, suddenly suffocated by the air around me. There’s a cricket-chirping silence, except without the crickets. Just silence.
Haley brings her hand to her mouth. “Oh God. You really didn’t know.”
I swallow hard and fight to control my emotions, knowing that I am completely and utterly fucked when I feel a single tear roll down my cheek.
This is not something I do often. Or something I take lightly.
I get it now. He wants me to take the pain away. I wish I could. I wish I had that kind of power. Why did he choose me? I don’t know. Maybe I never will.
I need him to bring light into my darkness. Why him? Because since the moment I first saw him, he set fire to the world around me, and maybe that fire is the light I need.
Nothing good can come from this.
I’m broken.
He’s beautiful.
This is tragic.
How can I say yes to Blaze after knowing now exactly what I’m saying yes to? I know this story. There’s only one way it ends. Working with these kids over the years has taught me that the only thing worse than living with my own painful memories is knowing there’s nothing I can do to help someone else live with theirs.
The next morning, sunlight pours through the cracks in the blinds the same way it always does. The darkness ended and the day began, like it had been doing since the beginning of time and would keep doing until the very end, regardless of the turmoil we face inside. I burrow myself into my warm, soft sheets and cling to memories of a vivid dream that felt far too real. It’s the same dream I always have when my mind has had too much of the real world. It’s the wardrobe that leads to a fantasy world, the hole that descends to a magical kingdom, the key that opens the door to a secret garden. This dream, the one where I’m happy and life doesn’t make my chest feel heavy, is my escape. I pull the spare pillow close to my chest and hug it tight because I know eventually the memory of the dream will fade away like it always does. I’ll be left with this lonely sense of detachment, searching for the high of the happiness I felt while I was asleep. That’s the worst part about waking up. It’s not the sunlight in your eyes or the sudden responsibility of the day ahead. It’s the harsh realization that dreams are usually better than reality.