Page 1 of This: Blake & Emon

Chapter 1

The first of the month had always been Blake’s favorite occasion. It was the new beginning and a chance to start over that did it for her. Plus, it was like her monthly birthday, a tradition her father had started years ago. She’d spent the day running errands, paying bills, and ridding herself of old clutter she’d collected over the month. She was now engrossed in arranging her groceries to put up. She had become obsessed with Operation_Niki videos on TikTok.

“A place for everything and everything in its place!” She giggled to herself, quoting the last video she watched. She thought of her mother and wished she could see her being tidy and clean since she had spent most of her teenage years in trouble for keeping a messy room.

Blake tucked a strand of brown and honey blonde hair behind her ear as she reorganized her pantry. Her deep brown eyes were enhanced by a subtle golden highlighter she’d worn to run errands. She’d taken extra care with her appearance today, even for simple errands. Her full lips were glossed to perfection and her rich melanin glowed under the kitchen lights. Some might call it doing too much for a grocery run, but Blake believed in showing up as her best self, even if it was just for herself.

In her element, Blake hummed “He Sees You” by Terrian as it played through her home speaker system. This was her song, and she couldn’t get the melody out of her head. It had to be a sign of some sort, but she didn’t know what it was a sign of yet, and she wasn’t going to read too much into it.

“Alexa, volume up.”

Blake had just finished arranging her fresh produce in the crisper, refilling her laundry pods, and cleaning the microwave. She’d worked up a sweat with all the work she had done. But as she stood in her kitchen, she felt somewhat accomplished. She’d gotten everything done before three p.m. and that caused her to move her hips. She was always one to celebrate small wins, and this was a win.

While she leaned against her counter giving herself a minute and ordering her dinner, she heard the screen door to her apartment creak. The sound was too deliberate to be the wind and too cautious to be her brother, Brooks, dropping by unannounced. Her hand froze on the granite countertop, and she stood in place. Fear took over her mind. She kicked herself in the ass for not locking the door behind her when she came in. Her brother had already warned her about that, but as usual, she lived in her own world, believing that there were enough good people in the world that she was safe. Not to mention, it was springtime. She wanted to let some sunlight and fresh air in. Slowly, she grabbed a knife from her drawer and made her way around the corner.

A shriek escaped her mouth as she spotted the handsomely wounded man in her living room. The man was tall, tatted, and brown-skinned, with a tapered haircut and a perfectly lined beard. Despite his obvious injury, he carried himself with confidence. His one hand pressed against his side, dark blood seeping between his fingers and staining his white tee, brought her back to the situation at hand.

“What the hell?” she muttered, causing him to look up. He’d all but fallen into her apartment.

“Wrong apartment,” a deep voice said before her, strained with pain. “My mistake.”

“Your mistake? Are you crazy?” she asked, almost frozen in place. The knife trembled slightly in her grip as their eyes met. Something in those dark eyes of his—pain, yes, but also a familiar wariness—reminded her of Brooks. The same look her brother wore when he came home some nights, carrying the weight of secrets she never asked about. His eyes, a shade of brown so deep they were almost black, met hers. The silent appraisal in them shifted to recognition when he spotted her stethoscope, medical books on the table, and a scrub jacket hanging by the door.

Her nursing training warred with common sense. Exit routes: front door behind him, bedroom windows behind her. Phone in her back pocket. But that blood seeping between his fingers wasn’t slowing, and her hands itched to help the way they always did when someone was hurting.Shit, she thought.

“Insane, but I’m here now and need your help,” he admitted with a slight laugh that made him wince in pain. That wince decided it for her. Genuine pain couldn’t be faked, and if he meant her harm, he wouldn’t have announced himself like this.

“Please,” he muttered, speaking directly to her heart.

The sound of his discomfort pulled her fully into nurse mode. She lowered the knife deliberately to the counter behind her. It was still within reach, but no longer a barrier between them. Whatever consequences came from this decision, she’d face them. Right now, someone needed her help, and she had taken an oath.

“One bullet wound to the abdomen,” Blake said, her voice steadier than she felt. Reporting back what was in front of herwas how she studied. She hoped he didn’t mind. Living in her brother’s world had taught her when to ask questions and when to act. This was a moment for action. “Through and through. You won’t die unless it gets infected. But we won’t let that happen.”

A flicker of surprise crossed his face, but her beauty surprised him the most. Those full lips, luminous brown skin, and unforgettable features were the last thing he expected to see while bleeding out. The warmth in her eyes contrasted sharply with the professional determination in her stance. And why the hell did he care at a time like this? However, he felt he couldn’t have mistakenly entered a better apartment than hers. “You know your shit. Good for me.”

“I know enough.” She moved toward him slowly, noting how his shoulders tensed. “I’m in nursing school. And my brother...” She let that hang in the air between them. “Never mind. What’s your name?”

“Nah, baby we not doing that. Not right now at least,” he said, placing his gun on her coffee table. Her eyes followed it, but she wasn’t moved. She’d seen plenty of guns, and obviously, he wasn’t good at using his or he wouldn’t be here bleeding out on her couch.

“Tuh, that doesn’t scare me.” As she stood, she opened the closet door behind her to pull a 12-gauge shotgun out. “I got guns too.”

“Ok, Lara Croft.” He laughed. “And why would you think I wanted to scare you?” In fact, he didn’t want to scare her at all, and he did want to know her name, but he knew better than to share details of the such with a stranger who could call twelve on him at any time.

“The same reason you didn’t go to a hospital.”

“Touché.”

“I’m Blake, and I have a right to know the name of the person actively ruining my Saturday and bleeding out on my favorite couch.”

“Love, can we do this another day? For real, I’m feeling a little dizzy,” he lied. He was in pain, but this wasn’t the first time he’d been shot or shot at. She put the gun back in her closet and grabbed her medical kit, towels, and a bottle of Don Julio from her kitchen. She didn’t have anywhere near what she needed, but she was determined to make do with what she had. After frantically moving around her apartment for what she could find, she dipped down on her knees in front of him, and they stared at each other.

His focus? Her full lips. They looked delectable as she wrapped them around the bottle of Don Julio, drinking like she was her father’s daughter before passing it to him. “Drink. You’re gonna need it.”

Her focus? His eyes scanning her and reading her like a book.

He took a gulp of the drink before tossing his head back and mentioning, “You never agreed to sharing names another day.”

Blake stared at him, wondering if he was certifiably insane. Her eyes traced over him, taking in details she had no business noticing about the potentially dangerous stranger in her home. But she couldn’t deny his defined muscles and abs flexing as he tried to stay upright. The dark ink sprawled across his stomach and sides, telling stories she couldn’t quite make out. Amiri jeans dipping low, revealing his Adonis belt, clean tennis shoes, and gold Rolex watch, slightly covered in blood. He was left-handed, she could tell by the placement of his watch, another detail she shouldn’t be cataloging. Everything about him screamed money and danger in equal measure. She exhaledslowly, trying to regain her composure. Silence hung between them until she broke it.

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