But that wasn't reality.
“What are you doing here, Blake?” she asked softly, not wanting to wake her daddy.
“Get some clothes on, we're going for a ride.” He lifted his chin at her attire and she was suddenly very aware that she was only in a small cami and tiny shorts.
“We have to leave in the morning, we don't have time for your shenanigans,” she argued, knowing it was useless. Trying to pretend that the idea of being on the back of a Harley didn't sound like the best idea she'd heard in a very long time.
“We've gone without sleep plenty of times before. Now get that ass in some jeans.” He was using the tone that she hated. Bossy. No room for argument. Which only wanted to make her argue more. But as much as she hated it, she kind of loved it too.
She grabbed an old pair of jeans out of her dresser and slid them on over her shorts. Blake dropped his eyes to the floor when she turned her back to take off her cami. Grabbing the bra she'd discarded earlier, she slipped it on quickly and opened her dresser drawer. She couldn't see through the dark what t-shirts were available, so she picked the top one and tugged it on.
Pulling her long hair up into a messy bun, she let out a heavy sigh. She wasn't sure if she had the energy to do this. She was thinking that if she mounted one final protest, Blake might back off and let her be alone with her grief.
She suddenly felt warm, familiar hands cup her shoulders from behind and she instinctively leaned back against his chest.
“I'm not leaving without you,” he whispered in her ear. His lips grazed the shell of her ear when he spoke and she was filled with a whole mess of reactions. Longing, desire, trepidation, confusion, and gratitude.
She slowly stepped away from his embrace and sat on the bed to lace up her shoes. He stood rigid in the center of her room, not giving her the choice to back out. She had no idea why he felt the need to do this. They weren't kids anymore, this was a waste of time. She was a waste of time.
Standing up, she gave him a shrug, letting him know she was ready but not exactly excited. His grin was enormous and she had to fight not to smile back. Blake was still a terrible role model.
They crossed to the window and she pushed up on the sill, swung her legs over the side, and dropped onto the ground. He was right behind her. Grabbing her hand without hesitation, he pulled her running down the drive and towards the main road.
At first she was irritated by his demand, convinced he was finally crossing that last line of sanity. But as they got further away from the house and were surrounded by the night with endless possibilities in front of them, she dared to get excited.
They got to the road and he let go of her hand long enough to push his Harley out from behind some trees. That was when the beauty of the night really struck her. He was still so much of the boy she had known long ago. Sneaking her out in the middle of the night, still riding that piece of crap motorcycle. She felt laughter bubble out of her and he jerked his head up at the sound, a smile spreading across his face.
“What?” Blake tried to look wounded around his wide grin.
“I can't believe you still have that thing.” Lucy shook her head in wonder.
“What did you think I meant when I said we'd go for a ride?” he asked obviously.
“I don't know. You're a successful rock star, I thought you'd have gotten yourself something flashier and more reliable by now.” She arched an eyebrow at him.
“How dare you,” he gasped, “she can hear you, ya know.”
Lucy let out a giggle, and Blake grinned again. Then he said words that she hadn't heard in far too long.
“C'mon, gorgeous. Let's be reckless.” He straddled the bike and nodded at her to join him.
Lucy felt a jolt go through her. Yes, she wanted that. Everything he'd just said.
All worry that they shouldn't be doing this vanished. She swung a leg over and gently rested her hands on his hips.
He chuckled low, the sound making her pulse go double-time, and fired the Harley to life. “You're gonna wanna hold on tighter than that,” he yelled over the roar.
Her eyes widened when he flung the bike around and sped down the street. She hadn't ridden a motorcycle in far too long. Her arms wrapped tightly around his middle and her thighs hugged his hips, desperately trying to keep her from flying off the back.
They tore through town. Shops, side streets, houses and lights all became blurs. He drove them out of the city limits and into the countryside. Her hair started to work free of the elastic and whip her in the face, but she didn't care.
The faster he went, the lighter she felt. The heaviness of her heartache was right behind them and he was almost outrunning it. She pressed her cheek against his shoulder, never wanting him to stop.
This. This small space that she took up on the back of Blake's roaring motorcycle. This was the place where she felt free. Her palms pressed flat against his chest and she could feel his heart beating through the thin cotton t-shirt. Her hair tie was lost to the wind, taking her reservations with it. His shoulder was warm on her cheek and she squeezed tighter. She felt him tense and the Harley went faster, taking them into the wild safety of the night.
She opened her eyes when the bike slowed and turned down a dirt road. She looked around at the open field, her heart still racing from the drive, a little disappointed that they'd reached a destination, until she recognized where they were.
He kicked the stand down and she jumped off. Swinging his leg over the side, he took her hand, leading her into the long grass until a clearing appeared.
“I haven't been here since graduation night.” She let go of his hand and took a few steps forward. Tilting her head back, she stared up at the night sky. The stars were bigger here, brighter. She felt so small, her sorrows almost insignificant. What she had recited during her graduation speech came flooding back. Walt Whitman's Song of Myself. The words seemed appropriate again.
“Press close bare-bosom'd night—press close magnetic nourishing night!
Night of south winds—night of the large few stars!
Still nodding night—mad naked summer night.”
She called the familiar lines into the wide-open space, flinging her arms out to the sides.
A low chuckle rumbled behind her and she spun around to find a pair of emerald eyes watching her intently.
“I love it when you quote Whitman,” Blake said, giving her a crooked smile. Was he nineteen again? He sure looked like it.
A shiver ran through her and she decided to collapse on the ground, her arms spread out wide.
Blake's boots smashed the grass beside her head and she looked up to see him studying her, his face unreadable. She looked past him to the stars and he finally lay down next to her, lacing his hands behind his head. She had so many questions for him, a list that had built up over time. Questions about why and how and was any of it real. But here in the silence of the night, it seemed so small. So very trivial.
Her head turned to stare at him. Face relaxed, eyes straight to the sky, the profile of his jaw line standing out in the starlight. She let out a cleansing breath and faced up again.
“How do you always know what I need?” she asked finally.
“What do you mean?” He swiveled his head to look at her.
“I mean, how do you always know what I need to feel better? Like this, how did you know that coming out here to this spot would help at all?”
He was quiet for a long time, filling the space between them with slow breathing.
“You're my best friend, Lucy. I abandoned you once. It'll never happen again.” His words started a slow burn in her chest that she wished she could ignore. He'd never admitted to how he'd abandoned her before. They'd fought about how he'd left, for sure, but he'd never admitted any wrongdoing.
She rolled onto her side, pressing both arms together and resting her head on her hands. “You were here for the funeral, weren't you?” she gently confronted him. She had always had her suspicions but was too scar
ed to ask. Still... that week hadn't been as hard as she thought it should have been, and she really had no explanation for it.
“Yeah,” he conceded with a slow breath.
“I knew it somehow.” Her eyes wandered to the grass in front of her and she picked at a sleepy dandelion. “It's like, when a storm is coming and you can smell the rain hours beforehand... that's what it's like when you're nearby.”
The air between them tightened and stretched. He didn't respond and she was too scared to look at his face, unsure of how her words were being received. Her normal candor had been replaced with insecurity and doubt. But she couldn't not be honest with Blake.
“Why didn't Shane want me, Blake?” she suddenly asked.
He rolled up onto his side to face her, jutting an elbow into the ground and leaning his head in his hand, a frown pulling his eyebrows inward.
“I really don't know. He's an idiot,” came the growled reply.
Lucy sighed and closed her eyes, then slowly opened them.
“I really thought he liked me.” Her voice sounded small and her eyes started to burn.
“I did, too.” Blake's jaw clenched and his brows darkened further.
“I feel so stupid. I keep going over everything in my head—” Blake cut her off when he touched her bottom lip with his thumb, his fingers brushing past her jaw line and slipping into her hair.
“Stop that. You didn't do anything wrong.” His eyes traced her face, settling on her mouth briefly where his thumb still pressed gently. Lifting his eyes back to hers he continued, “Sometimes... things end.”
Like with them? But they had never truly ended, had they? They kept finding their way back into each other's worlds and lives. He removed his hand and rested it in the grass between them, but he didn't drop his gaze. She wished she knew what he was thinking, had some sort of glimpse into his quiet thoughts.
“Why did you get that tattoo?” She could tell by the flare in his eyes that he wasn't expecting that question, and he looked past her shoulder for a few seconds. The muscle in his jaw ticked as he debated whether or not to give her an answer.
His eyes swung back to hers. “I guess I thought it was obvious.” The non-answer answer. She hated that.
“With you, nothing is obvious,” she returned, and his mouth formed a hard line. “Is that all I really left you with? Scars?”
His face softened and his frown turned worried. “No.”
That was it. Just “no.” No explanation. She looked back to the dandelion as she tried to decide where to go after that.
“I notice you haven't brought up Frank.” His tone was questioning but tense.
“Not my proudest moment,” came her mumbled confession. “We never really saw eye to eye on things and I really disagreed when I found out he was such a slut.” Her hair dropped over her shoulder as she dipped her head, unable to look him in the eye. “He wanted me because of who my father is and he thought I'd be easy to manipulate.” She smirked wryly. “Showed him, though, didn't I?”
“You knew he was using you?” Blake's voice was hard. This was a touchy subject, one reason she never brought it up.
“We used each other.” She sighed, not liking how this part of her life made her feel. “I was really...” Her voice trailed off. She didn't want to go there. Because the truth was, Frank was her one and only attempt to get over Blake. Frank was the complete opposite of him. He was a blond, power-driven heir to an oil tycoon. A trust fund playboy who liked what Lucy's name looked like on paper. She rode that ride until she decided to get off. The hunting accident really was an accident, but it felt pretty damn good at the same time.
“You were really what, Luce?” Blake pressed gently, and she came back to the present.
“Lonely,” she finally admitted.
“Babe...” There was so much sympathy and pity in that word when he said it.
She met his eyes again and felt the shame burn on her cheeks. He knew now. After that huge fight that night, him breaking Frank's nose and her sending him away; it was all an act. She had never loved Frank. He was only a means to an end. The end of being alone. And she was only alone because Blake kept leaving her.
“Why didn't you want me?”
His jaw flitted under his skin as it worked back and forth. His green eyes darkened and her breath slowed down. Still. After everything. He was still the only one she could see.
“I've always wanted you,” he said huskily. “I never stopped.”
Her gaze settled on his mouth and she licked her lips. That was not the answer she was expecting, but it was the one she wanted. She began to lean forward, craving what she knew she would find in his embrace. The intensity, the warmth, the passion. But he stopped her. He cupped her face with his hand, threading his fingers into her hair again and ran his thumb across the apple of her cheek, holding her away by inches.
“No, Lucy,” his voice raspy and his breathing heavy.
“But... you just said...” She frowned in confusion and embarrassment started to burn her eyes. How had she read that wrong?
“I know what I said.” He looked from her eyes to her mouth and she could see the desire on his face. “And it's more true than you know. I want you all the time. The way you move, the way you smell, your laugh, your voice... all of it turns me on. But if you're with me, then I want you to be with me. For the right reasons, not because you're sad.”
Her eyes dropped to his chest as his words registered in her brain. He was right. She cared about him too much to use him like that. It would ruin them both. She was too much of an emotional wreck to know if she wanted him for him, or because she simply didn't want to feel alone.
She rolled onto her back again and out of his reach. Humiliation began to heat up her cheeks and she wanted to hide. She knew he wasn't trying to hurt her, but the sting of rejection was hard to ignore.
He reached his hand over and laced his fingers together with hers. The simple act was enough to remind her who she was with. It reminded her of everything they had been through and what they meant to each other.
“I'll wait, Lucy. I'm not going anywhere. Never again.”
***
He got Lucy home just after dawn. She had grass in her hair and didn't even have time to change her clothes before they had to say goodbye to their parents and head to the airport. But it was worth it. She was not as downtrodden as she had been the day before. A night under the stars had been the initial cleansing of the wound in her heart.
She fell asleep before the plane left the runway. Snuggled in her spacious seat in the corner with a blanket wrapped around her, she looked peaceful. She was still wearing that random t-shirt she had pulled out of her drawer the night before. It was one he had gotten for her on one of their road trips: a small, red, now threadbare shirt for a band that they had seen in Omaha, Nebraska. It still looked great on her.
“So now that Shane is out of the picture are you going for it?” Kendra asked. Spending so much time with his mama had definitely increased her spunkiness. And she'd picked up a touch of an accent, too.
“No, that's the last thing on my mind.” Blake stretched his tired muscles as much as he could in the cabin. While he hadn't slept at all last night because he'd been busy watching Lucy sleep, he felt rested.
“What do you mean? What happened to you? One minute you're a wreck, scheming very ill-advised attempts to win her back, and the next you're playing down your feelings. Like you haven't spent the last couple of months in complete agony.” Kendra rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her middle in total disbelief.
“I got some things straightened out in my head.” He smirked and then said, “You must be your own before you can be another's.”
“What?” she asked, perplexed.
“Emerson.” He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, intent on getting some rest before the show that night. “You should read more.”
Kendra snorted under her breath and put her headphones on. Blake peeked one eye open t
o look at Lucy again.
Having her verify what Triny had already told him about her and Frank had been more shocking than he wanted to admit. To know that she had risked a future of strife with a man she didn't love just to escape the loneliness he'd left her with was a horrible thought. And he would have let her. He had been too pissed that night and wasn't thinking clearly. Now, he could see that if he'd handled it differently, she would have walked away from Frank forever. She had taken responsibility for that mistake, but it was just as much Blake's fault that she got hurt in that situation.
But she was truly hurting at Shane's loss. That wasn't an act. She cared for him deeply and he'd broken that trust. Not that Blake should judge, he'd hurt her more often, just in different ways.
Never again.
When she had reached for him last night, it had taken all of his strength not to pull her into his arms and make her forget that Shane ever existed. But it would only have complicated their already complex relationship.
He would wait for her. However long it took. He was going to do it right from now on.
***
When they got to the venue they were greeted with smiles, hugs—and problems.
They had postponed two shows so Lucy and Blake could take care of things with her father being ill. That wasn't the problem. They had already rescheduled, tickets would be honored and the tour would only be extended by four more days. Easy.
The problem was more immediate. Taylor had woken up without a voice. He'd seen a physician and was ordered not to sing and to speak only when necessary for at least a week. As such, they didn't have an opening band.
“Lucy can do it,” Chad volunteered her from across the room. She felt every eye in the room turn towards her, and silence descended.
They were having a small meeting in a conference room at the venue, going over all their options. Both bands, Lenny, and Carl were scattered around the room in various places. Some standing, some sitting in the chairs like it was a real conference. Lucy had slipped in a little late and was leaning against the wall close to the door. Blake had joined her, standing so close their shoulders touched.
In Your Honor Page 33
