When Blake found out what happened to Dan, he remembered all the hits he’d taken on the field. Every tackle replayed itself in his mind, including a brutal takedown by Oklahoma’s defense his sophomore year. It had led to pain so sharp he was sure he had a concussion, but he played through it because the team was counting on him and that’s what you did.
The Mustangs won. The pain went away. But what if one day it didn’t? Blake was healthy now. If he continued along his path, he might not be.
Dan’s death wiped away the dust, and he saw the writing on his wall. Could he say the same for his friends, family, and fans? Probably not. Football was a religion in Texas. Blake would get pilloried for being selfish and overdramatic if he revealed he quit because he was worried about CTE. So he kept his mouth shut and let the speculation run wild. It was better than the alternative.
Farrah squeezed his hand. “That’s understandable. I can’t imagine anyone would be mad about that.”
“You haven’t met my father.”
Farrah’s gaze swept down.
Blake winced when he realized how callous his complaint must sound. “I’m sorry. He and I have our differences, but I know I’m lucky he’s still here.”
“It’s ok.” Farrah fiddled with her necklace again. “My dad wasn’t the greatest dad either when he was alive. I feel terrible saying that because he was a good dad for a while.” Her voice wobbled. “He had an…interesting life before he married my mom. They settled down and had me, and everything was great until it wasn’t. My parents started fighting every night over stupid stuff—what channel to watch, whose turn it was to take out the trash—until my dad moved out. I was thirteen.”
Blake’s chest tightened as Farrah spoke. Thirteen was hard enough without having to deal with your parents’ separation.
"They separated for a year before divorcing. In that year, without my mom keeping an eye on him, my dad fell back into old bad habits. Smoking, drinking, gambling. He racked up a ton of debt, and he and my mom still had some joint accounts, so you can imagine how that went down. I remember walking into my mom’s bedroom one day after they divorced and seeing her cry. My mom never cries. I was so pissed at my dad for putting us through all of that pain that when I saw him during our next visit, I called him all these horrible names, and I—” Farrah swallowed hard. “I said I wished he were dead.”
The tightness increased until Blake couldn’t breathe.
“A few days later, we got a call from my uncle. My dad had been dealing with liver cirrhosis for years, but it got worse without my mom looking after him. My uncle called to tell us my dad was in a coma.”
A sense of foreboding fell over Blake.
“A few days later, he died.”
His heart exploded. Farrah radiated so much pain Blake felt it deep within his bones.
He hugged her tight, unable to do anything but hold her and keep the pieces together as she fell apart.
“Can you imagine if the last thing your daughter ever said to you was that she wished you were dead?” The only way Blake knew how much Farrah hurt was by the way her shoulders heaved as she collapsed into silent sobs.
“Shh. It’s ok.” He rubbed her back and pressed his lips to the top of her head, feeling helpless. “It’s ok.”
“I’m a terrible person. No matter what he did, he was my dad and I loved him. And now I’ll—” She hiccupped. “I’ll never get the chance to tell him.”
“He knows.”
Farrah shook her head.
“He does,” Blake insisted. “We’ve all said things we regret out of anger. I’m sure your dad did too. He knew you didn’t mean it. And those were only a few words out of how many you’ve spoken to him throughout your life?” He tilted her chin up. Despite her red nose and swollen eyes, she took his breath away. Her true beauty wasn’t physical; it was in her soul. He saw it shining through in everything she did, and it was as bright and warm as the sun on a summer day. “You’re an incredible person. You would never hurt someone on purpose. This is coming from me, someone who’s known you for three months. Your dad knew you your entire life.”
Farrah’s lips trembled. She nodded once before burying her face in his chest again. Blake sat there, holding her until her sobs slowed.
Once they did, she pulled away and wiped her cheeks dry. “I’m sorry. I ruined your shirt.”
“It’s a stupid shirt. I can buy another one.” Blake brushed away her remaining tears. “How are you feeling?”
“Better.” Farrah sniffled. “I’ve never told anyone what happened with my dad before. Not even my mom.”
Damn. Blake was about to cry himself. Toughen up, man. “Thank you for trusting me.”
She gave him a wobbly smile. “Thank you for trusting me.”
They sat there on their little corner of the wall, each the keeper of the other’s secrets. Their fight in Macau was a faded memory, but one thing from that night remained crystal-clear in Blake’s mind: the look in Farrah’s eyes when he asked why she cared about him and Mina.
Deep down, he knew what she was going to say. He’d interrupted her with a lie because he was too scared to admit what he’d known all along, but after today there was no use denying it: Blake was in love with Farrah. He was in so deep he didn’t have a devil’s chance of getting out, and what’s more, he didn’t want to.
Blake closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall.
I am so fucked.
Chapter Fifteen
The pebbles crunched beneath Farrah’s feet as she and Blake followed Wang laoshi to their hostel in Gubei, a water town at the foot of the Simatai section of the wall. As Farrah expected, they were the last FEAers to arrive.
Farrah was exhausted, but she had enough wits about her to admire the view. Despite being an artificial “ancient” town (modeled after the actual historic town of Wuzhen in southern China), Gubei was beautiful. Its traditional architecture harkened back to the days of imperial China. Stone streets wound past wooden houses with tile roofs and sweeping eaves; small arch bridges curved over narrow canals. As the sun sank beneath the horizon, the lights flicked on, one by one, until the entire town glowed with their warmth. The orange spots danced and shimmered on the water, competing with the pale fire skies for attention.
“Toto, we’re not in Texas anymore,” Blake murmured.
Laughter bubbled up inside her. It was a relief after the heavy emotions of earlier that day. “No, Dorothy, we’re not.”
Farrah was coming to terms with her unrequited feelings for Blake. She wasn’t even mad about what happened in Macau anymore. She’d missed Blake too much during the past week to stay angry with him. Her romantic feelings were one thing; their friendship was another. What happened on the wall was proof of that.
She’d kept her guilt over what happened with her dad a secret for so long that talking about it felt like a thousand-ton weight had lifted off her shoulders.
Farrah had had opportunities to talk about it before, but she’d been too afraid. Afraid people would judge her for being a terrible person and a terrible daughter, afraid they would never look at her the same afterward.