Page 16 of The Making of Mila and Blake
“I have time.”
Blake narrows his eyes at me, curious yet defensive. I’m probably the last person he wants to talk to about this, but once upon a time, I would have been the first. That was our thing, Blake and me. Understanding our messed-up parents. Being there for one another when the pressure got too much.
“Okay,” he says. He presses his hands against the edge of the counter behind him and locks his eyes on mine across the kitchen. “After you left. . . I spent the rest of that summer in Memphis. I needed to get away from here, but having me stay at his place took a toll on him. I didn’t realize how thin of a thread he was hanging on by, and I think me being around tipped him over the edge.” He looks across to his dad. “I thought maybe things would be better if he came back here with me. He’d have a better support network, plus a way cooler music scene in Nashville. And he agreed, but only if I stayed at home with my mom until I left for college. And I’m staying with Mom this summer too while I’m back.”
“So he moved here?”
“Yeah, and it’s been a complete disaster.” Abeepfrom the coffee machine interrupts him. He turns to grab the carafe and fills a chipped mug with steaming coffee, then delivers it to his father, who only turns his nose up at the caffeine on offer. He returns to the kitchen and holds out his open palm to me. “Can I get the keys? We should get out of here. I’ll take you home now.”
I place Jason’s keys in Blake’s palm and my fingertips brush his warm skin. I can’t help but notice his fingers are as calloused as they’ve always been, so he’s still playing guitar. He’s still playing music. There’s something comforting about that, knowing that he hasn’t given up.
“Dad, I’ll be back to check up on you later, okay?” Blake calls over to Jason, tossing him his keys. “Just relax, and if you leave this place again, I’ll kick your ass.”
Jason grunts and doesn’t even bother looking over as Blake and I leave. We head back into the truck, pull on our seatbelts, and reverse out of the drive. The radio remains off this time, but Blake doesn’t substitute it for his own playlist, either. We drive in silence.
“So your dad moved back here?” I eventually ask, corralling Blake back into conversation. “And started drinking again?”
“He misses Memphis,” Blake says. We make our way back down Fairview Boulevard and as we pass Dunkin’ Donuts, I notice Dad’s rental is gone from the lot. “He didn’t have to worry about being a father when he was two hundred miles away. He blames me for putting too much pressure on him to step up and be a parent, but Mila? I’ve never expected him to be the typical father figure. I’m nineteen. I don’tcareanymore if we don’t hang out. I just want him to be sober, andhere. That’s all I need from him these days, but I’m getting real sick of all his false promises. Every time he says he’ll get help and sober up, he ends up right back where he started. I don’t know what to do anymore.” He sighs and props his arm up against the door, resting his head in his hand. “I just need a dad who isn’t slamming drinks on a Sunday morning and trying to justify it asnormal.”
“I’m sorry, Blake,” I say, and I mean it. I still remember the joy in his smile when he discovered his dad was sober and had been for a while. That night in Memphis as he played that Luke Bryan song on his dad’s guitar while Jason harmonized with him filled Blake with so much hope for the future, but it looks as though in just two short years, it’s all come crashing down again.
Blake shrugs, but the hurt in his eyes is clear. “It is what it is. How are things withyourdad?”
“Much better,” I admit, guiltily biting the inside of my cheek. Things may have been bad before, but unlike Blake, my relationship with my father has improved. I wish that could have been the same for Blake too. “But he and my mom are getting divorced.”
Blake’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise as he casts a sidelong glance at me. “Oh, damn. I’m sorry to hear that. Is that because. . . Actually, it’s none of my business.”
“Yeah, it is,” I say. I know what he’s wondering.Did my parents’ marriage break down after those revelations two years ago involvinghis mom?“It’s a mixture of everything. My dad’s affair. That letter my mom wrote. I think they still love each other, but too much trust was broken.”
“You seem okay about it.”
“Well, yeah. Sometimes things just don’t work out, you know?”
“Yeah,” Blake says, and the truck falls quiet.
We didn’t work out, either.
I face the window and watch Fairview fly by, eventually turning down the quiet country road that leads past ranch, after ranch, after ranch. The Harding Estate walls loom in the distance. Then all too soon, Blake pulls up by the gate.
“Home safe and sound,” he says, letting the engine idle. He leaves his hand resting over the gear shift. “Mila?”
I release my seatbelt and glance at him. His eyes are focused on me. “Yeah?”
“Thanks for helping me out back there. Calling me and all. You didn’t have to.”
“I did,” I say.
“But after everything. . .” he breathes softly. The delicacy of his gaze has me holding my breath. “You really didn’t.”
“But that’s exactly why I had to,” I say. “Because of everything.”
We don’t look away from each other. Our history won’t ever be erased. It might have only been for one passionate summer, but we were once a big part of each other’s lives and there’s no denying that. We will always remember the moments we shared, the secrets we confessed and the laughter we couldn’t fight. But we’ll also remember the way it all ended. The betrayal and dashed hopes Blake felt that night at his gig in Nashville and the pain that consumed me as he walked away.
“I’ll see you around, Mila,” he says now with a clipped nod. The conversation is over.
I take a breath and give him a tight-lipped smile. I don’t want to get out of the truck, but Blake has moved on. He doesn’twantto spend his time with me. Not when he has a girlfriend. Not when I am clearly history to him.
“Bye, Blake,” I say.
