Loving Lies(28)
“Like I’m a piece of shit.”
I turn to him and lightly plant a kiss on his lips. His arms engulf me and then his mouth is devouring mine. I get that he doesn’t want to go into details about what happened. I know he will at some time, but obviously this isn’t it. I relax into his hold. This is the Blake I’ve missed so much.
“I want all of you tonight,” he says.
“I like the sounds of that.”
“But…”
“But what?” I ask.
“But I’m feeling totally out of control. Part of me thinks that’s because of you and the other, more rational part, knows it’s because my head’s fucked up at the moment.”
“How about we start with kisses and see where the night leads,” I say, trailing my hands through his hair.
He groans and looks me in the eyes. “I want you naked so I can have my way with you.”
“Well that’s not unreasonable,” I say playfully.
But just like that all the playfulness leaves him. He sighs and lays his head on my lap and I let my fingers slide through his silky hair and he sighs.
“We had a chance to talk when I got there.”
My hand stills for a moment and then I urge him on as I give his scalp a light massage. He turns his head so his hazel eyes are looking at me, through me.
“I thought if he was talking that was a good sign. But I think in my heart I knew it was the end.”
“But you were there for him in the end and that’s when it counts.”
He shakes his head and closes his eyes like looking at me, telling me the truth, hurts too much. His head rolls to the side and I let my hand slide down to his neck.
“I should have taken his call days ago.”
“He called you?”
He gives a hurtful laugh. “He only ever calls me when he’s on a binge. I knew that and I ignored him. I was being a fucking moron and selfish. I was here, dealing with things and didn’t want to have to deal with his shit.”
I run my hand over his ears and feel the goose bumps form on him. I ask lightly, “Would taking his call have made a difference?”
“Maybe. I’ll never know. He told me things he’s never mentioned to me before.”
I don’t say anything. Instead I lightly knead his shoulder, pressing my thumb into a hard knot.
“I never knew how much he loved my mother. He never spoke about her.”
“Never?” I ask.
“Nope. Even as a kid when I used to beg for him to tell me about her all he’d do is tell me she was the love of his life. All I ever really knew was she was really pretty and that because of her, my father got disowned by his own father.”
My hands stills. “Holy shit. Are you serious?”
He turns his head back so that once again he’s looking at me. “Yup. He told me why he fell in love with her, why he couldn’t live without her and then what my grandfather was trying to do.”
“Do?” I ask, trying to figure out what his grandfather had to do with his mother.
“Yeah. My grandfather was pushing the city to allow him to rezone the area where my mother lived and his plan was to basically bulldoze her parent’s house down and build apartments. My mother was the one leading the group of citizen to protest his actions.”
“Your mother sounds amazing.”
He closes his eyes and runs a hand over his face. “I really wish I’d known her.”
“How old were you when she died?” I ask, hoping my question will keep him talking and not shut-down.
His eyes flash open. “I was two. She got hit by a drunk driver.” Another hurtful laugh follows. “Sort of sad that my father became an alcoholic after she died. In one moment one stupid person killed two lives.”
“Blake, I’m so sorry about your dad. But drinking was his choice and it truly is an addiction. Did he ever get help?”
He sits up, flexing his arms across the sofa and hauls me in for a hug. “By the time he got help, I believe it was too late. Honestly, I think when my mother died he died. I was just the baggage he was forced to deal with.”
“You’re not baggage. You’re a wonderful man.”
“No, I’m not.” His tone is cold and that scares me.
“Okay, maybe not all the time wonderful, but you try. I’ve seen you, Blake. You care about things. You’ve told me about your walks with the owners and the things you’d do to improve the resort. I think that’s what will always separate you from your father. You like to plan things and set goals. I think your father gave up on life when your mother died.”
“Maybe.”
“Your father made a choice, the wrong one, but he’s not you. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the past few years is that taking control of your own life can be damn hard, but the mistakes you make are your own and the joy of your own success is totally worth it.”