Page 96 of When Fate Breaks
Ibob my knee, chewing on my already very raw bottom lip as I stare out of the passenger side window of my truck. Blake’s eyes remain forward, his hands firmly at ten and two on the steering wheel. It wasn’t discussed that he would be driving us home from the trade show; he just opened the driver’s side door and held out his hand in a motion for the keys once we reached the truck in the parking lot. I didn’t have it in me to question or fight him on it.
My fingers fidget repeatedly with the last button on my blue cardigan to the point that I can feel the thread coming loose and the button starting to dangle from the fabric. I move up to the next button, desperately needing something to distract me. I think I'm starting to realize why Blake insisted on driving.
We haven’t talked about it. We haven’t talked about anything. Not since Blake yanked the only physical evidence of one of my favorite days and memories of my life from my hand. The physical evidence I all but forgot existed.
Clearly he didn’t.
I don’t know what that could mean. I’m not sure I want to know. I tell myself I’m overthinking it. He’s a guy. Guys so rarely bother replacing things like wallets. Maybe he’s just had the same one all these years and just shoved that old Polaroid in there shortly after the night we took it and never gave it a second thought. Yes, I’m completely overthinking it.
Like that’s ever stopped you before.
I keep replaying his reaction to me finding it over and over. His eyes held a swirl of so many different emotions. Initially, he seemed so confused. Then there was something like shock. Then, if I’m not crazy, he appeared…embarrassed? Guilty? The final reaction I saw out of him is the one that sticks out the most. And the one I can’t shake.
Anger.
He seemed angry. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he would have ripped the photo in half after taking it from me. I try to ignore the way my heart itself feels like it’s tearing just at the thought of that photo, the one that I always thought I hated up until I saw it still existed forty-five minutes ago, being torn.
I just keep seeing Blake’s dark brows pulling together. The darkening of his eyes when the realization hit him.God, why did I find it?Why did he evenhaveit? Did he really have no idea it was in his wallet? The only reason I was even looking through his wallet in the first place was becauseheinsisted I do so. Did hewantme to find it? His reaction makes even less sense if so.
I steal a sideways glance at Blake. His stoic nature betrays me as it always has, his blank facial expression giving me absolutely nothing as to what he could be thinking. I think back to his face at the bar; the deep crease in his forehead and hard set of his jaw. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen such a look of indignation on him.
Liar.
Okay, I can think of exactly one other time. I swallow hard. I’m sure that I deserved it.
Both times.
I suddenly realize that we have entered our neighborhood. I also realize that Blake didn’t suggest or ask about dropping the supplies we got today off at the store and let out a sigh of relief I didn’t even know I was holding in. One less battle to fight today. I secretly know in the back of my mind that these smaller battles I’m putting off will inevitably lead to a war. It’s fine. That’s a problem for another day.
Tomorrow.
What other day is there?
I shake my head, pushing the thought away. If I just don’t think about it, I won’t have to deal with it. Everything will be fine. The party will happen. Blake will keep to himself. We’ll say goodbye. Blake will leave. I’ll marry Remy in a month. Everything will work out exactly the way it’s supposed to. Exactly the way I’ve envisioned it for the last five years.
Yeah. Okay, Annie.
The gravel grinding underneath the tires of the truck as Blake turns into the driveway is the first thing to break the silence in the last half hour. We come to a stop and Blake is out of the truck before the engine is even fully killed. I swallow against the dryness in my throat, easing my own door open and sliding out onto the ground.
I expect Blake to have bolted inside just as quickly as he got out of the vehicle, but am surprised to find him standing at the front of the truck, facing me with one hand resting on the hood. I’m even more surprised, however, when my gaze reaches his face. His posture is no longer rigid and his eyes have softened back to normal. When they meet mine, his lips even pull up in his signature Blake smirk.
“Hey,” Blake says.
I have to keep myself from slumping over as a large culmination of stress and tension instantly leave my body.
So, we’re good? We’re just forgetting it happened?
“Hey,” I breathe, my fingers lacing together.
This is good. This is what’s best. Let’s just forget about it.
“I just realized we didn’t stop at the store,” Blake nods towards the bed of the truck.
Oh.
“Should we run this stuff by there real quick?”
“No,” I shake my head. “That’s okay. Remy can bring it tomorrow morning.”
