Page 13 of When Fate Breaks
I force my own smile and wave, mumbling something incoherent. I spin around the second the door closes, fisting my hair in my hands.
“Shit,” I mutter, grabbing my car keys from the counter and following after Remy.
* * *
I tap my foot anxiously,continuing to chew on my bottom lip even though I tasted traces of blood over five minutes ago.
I lean back against the warm metal of my truck, the rough rattle of the diesel engine working its way through my entire body and calming me. I chose to leave the engine running while I waited because, well, it wasn’t really a choice at all. It is nearly the middle of August in Montgomery, Alabama. With enough elements of stress already involved in my reunion with Blake after so many years taking place in a confined space, I elected to remove the possibility of heat stroke from the equation by leaving the air conditioning running.
I let my head fall back, my eyes scanning the bright blue sky, a pang of disappointment hitting me when I don’t see a single cloud; I had planned to count them as a distraction. I let out a sigh, choosing to follow the paths of planes leaving and returning to the airport instead. I spend approximately thirty seconds watching a plane turn from a speck in the distance to a giant mass right above me before I suddenly feel the pull of a presence ahead of me.
I force my gaze downward and instantly feel my breath catch in my throat. My body suddenly feels off balance, my knees weak and head heavy as I spot Blake coming out of the sliding glass door of the airport, glancing around in search. I fumble for the door handle, partly to steady myself but alsopossiblyto jump inside the truck and make a run for it. I don’t get more than two seconds to think my escape plan through, however, before Blake’s eyes land on me.
We both freeze momentarily, almost as if we’re characters glitching in a video game, before I straighten my stance and Blake continues walking forward. My heart rate increases with every step he takes. I straighten the sleeves of my white blouse and run my hands through my hair three more times than necessary. Though my gaze is darting all over the place, I can feel Blake’s eyes glued to me, the intensity of it burning straight into my face and to my already churning stomach.
I blow a quick breath out of my nose, blinking hard once before forcing myself to look at him. When my eyes shift and focus on his approaching figure, my lips involuntarily part.
How can someone look exactly the same but also so completely different at the same time?
Blake Di Fazio strides toward me, his stature even taller than I last remember and his skin as tan as ever. His brown curls flow long on top of his head but are cropped shorter on the sides, displaying the perfect combination of boyish and mature adult. He wears a backpack and rolls a large trunk of sorts behind him, his muscles flexing from his forearm up to his chest, visible through his dark t-shirt–
His forearm.
My gaze flicks back down to Blake’s left arm. The arm he’s rolling the trunk with. A large tattoo he must have gotten in the last six years wraps all the way around his forearm, running from his wrist to nearly his elbow. I can’t make it out right away but, as he comes closer, the image looks like a sort of nature scene containing trees. I glance to Blake’s other arm, noticing some more ink I can’t quite make out on his bicep, just poking out at the bottom of his shirt sleeve.
Blake seems to have noticed me surveying him because, when I finally look up to his face, a wide smirk is spread across it. The combination ofthatparticular smile mixed with the twinkle currently present in his sea green eyes is nearly too much for me to take. My stomach dips, making me feel like I’m a freaking kid again.
I quickly shake the feeling off, praying my cheeks aren’t as pink as they feel as Blake comes to a stop just a few feet in front of me, his boots scuffing the ground.
Blake rolls his trunk into an upright position at his side, leaning onto its handle with one hand while inserting his other hand into the pocket of his dark jeans. His head tilts to the side as if he’s about to say something, but he doesn’t. He simply looks at me, his eyes dragging from my face, down my body, and up again.
I cross my arms, uneasiness settling in at his silence and gesture. My lips roll into my mouth as I rack my brain for the best words to use. The best thing to say. I’ve been doing this since the moment we hung up the phone last week, but I’m still coming up blank.
How does someone possibly begin this conversation? Should there evenbea conversation? Or could we just forget it all and start fresh? For a moment that thought sounds incredible, but then a wave of memories crashes into me like a semi-truck.Goodmemories. Memories I don’t want to forget. Even if I’ve pushed them out of my mind as much as humanly possible for the last several years, I could never let them go. Not completely.
My pulse pounds in my ears as Blake’s gaze intensifies. His head tilts in the opposite direction, his brow furrowing slightly and his expression unreadable. I know that if I don’t speak now, there’s a good chance we’ll stay standing out here all night. Or worse: Blake could speak first. The absolute unknown of that possibility scares me more than anything, forcing me to say the only thing I can think of.
“Hey.”
Blake’s brows raise a fraction, then his entire face melts into a trace of a smile. He nods, his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. “Evangeline.”
My eyes burn at the name only Blake calls me. The name I haven’t heard in-person since the last time I saw him.Since…
I dig my nails into my palm, diverting my attention and keeping my eyes from doing anything as absurd as forming tears right now.
“Hey,” I say again, dumbly.
I step forward on reflex, starting to spread my arms, and then stopping, pulling back. I drop my hands to my sides and then raise them again awkwardly, not knowing what to do or how to act. I end up chickening out and slide one hand into my hair. When I look back up to Blake, his head dips and his eyes narrow.
“Um, I–”
Blake cuts me off, suddenly dropping his backpack from his shoulders and letting it hit the ground with a hard thud in the same moment his arms wrap around my waist, lifting me a few inches off the ground and engulfing me in a massive bear hug. My face presses against his chest and my arms, needing a moment to catch up from the shock, slowly wrap around his back. The toes of my shoes brush the ground as I remain suspended, Blake’s scent washing over me like a tidal wave. Citrus and cedar. Sunshine and rain. Nostalgia and reminiscence. I inhale deeply, catching something else.
Broken promises.
Regret.
Pain.
