Page 33 of Sweet Obsession
“Good.” She barely had the strength to smile. “Because it just so happens, I love you too.”
“Sorry to be a Debbie Downer,” his grandmother called from where they’d left the Suburban, “but you may want to settle this later. Like when you have your shirt on. And don’t smell like a chimney.”
The two chuckled at his grandmother. Truly a formidable woman. Helping each other up, she couldn’t bring herself to let go of him. Not now, not ever.
Chapter Sixteen
The morning air in the Sweet kitchen was thick with the scent of strong coffee and a fragile, unspoken peace. Blake sat at the long wooden table, nursing a mug, the warmth a welcome anchor in the sea of ‘what ifs’ that had kept him awake most of the night. Across from him, Jillian was quietly stirring sugar into her tea, her movements small and deliberate. Every so often, her gaze would lift and meet his, a furtive, charged look that said everything and nothing at all. He’d come so close to losing her yesterday, just hours after realizing he’d finally found the one woman for him. The thought was a cold knot in his gut that even Alice’s coffee couldn’t touch.
“Boy, these folks don’t waste any time,” Carson scrolled through his phone. “The fire, the rescue—it’s all over the mainstream news and social media.”
Blake’s stomach tightened. “How bad is it?”
“Actually, not bad at all. ‘Country Star Blake Kirby, his Beloved Grandmother, and Local Woman Risk Lives to Save Reporters in Fiery Crash.’ Y’all are being hailed as heroes.”
Preston leaned over to read Carson’s screen. “There’s video footage from someone’s phone. Shows you both collapsed by the fiery wreckage. Who the heck took that?”
“By the time the fire was out it could have been any of the firefighters or the line of passersby who had piled up to see whathad caused the fireball in the sky.” At this point, he honestly didn’t care what the news said anymore. He caught Jillian’s eye again, and this time neither of them looked away. The memory of her refusing to leave that woman behind, of working together under impossible circumstances, of nearly losing each other to save two strangers—it had changed everything.
“Let me see that.” Alice reached for Carson’s phone. After a moment, she looked up with tears in her eyes. “I’m so proud of you both.”
The quiet moment was shattered by a loud whirring sound that seemed to be getting closer and louder.
“It can’t be what I think it is.” Kade stood up to look out the window.
The sound grew more annoying, and Brady began barking frantically.
“If you’re thinking helicopter,” Garrett stood next to his brother, “then not only are you right, it’s landing in our front yard.”
“Cool!” Rachel jumped up from the table. “Wonder if we can get a ride?”
Jim rolled his eyes and shook his head at his wife. “Down, girl.”
The whole family crowded onto the front porch as the helicopter, a sleek black machine, descended with a deafening roar, its rotors kicking up a storm of dust and dry leaves. It settled onto the wide expanse of the front lawn with surprising grace.
“Figures,” Blake muttered, the knot in his stomach tightening for a whole new reason. He recognized the logo on the side. “My manager.”
“He has a lot of nerve showing up here,” Alice said, her voice tight with a protective fury that Blake found deeply touching.“None of this mess would have happened if he’d just respected your privacy in the first place.”
The rotors slowed and the side door slid open. Phil Mercer hopped out, ducking his head, a briefcase in one hand and what looked like a ridiculously expensive gift basket in the other. He approached the porch, his usual brisk confidence replaced by a look of strained contrition.
“Blake.” The man stopped at the bottom of the steps. “We need to talk.” He glanced around at the silent, formidable wall of Sweet siblings. “I, uh… I brought muffins.” He awkwardly held up the basket.
Blake crossed his arms, not moving. “You’re a little late for breakfast, Phil.”
“I know. I’m sorry. For all of it. The ‘missing’ story, the pressure… it was a bonehead move.” Phil’s gaze was surprisingly sincere. “I heard what happened yesterday. And about your grandmother. How is she?”
The unexpected question disarmed him slightly. “She’s fine. She’ll have some tests next week, and then we’ll know more.” He thought of his conversation with the memory doctor. The physician had reassured Blake that even with a dementia diagnosis, it could be a very slow progression, and with the right care, by recognizing the problem early, they could help his grandmother maintain her quality of life for years to come.
Phil nodded, looking genuinely relieved. “Good. That’s good to hear.” He took a tentative step closer. “So… the other part of the story the press is running with. Is there really a girl?”
Every eye on the porch swiveled to Jillian. Blake didn’t hesitate. He reached for her hand, lacing his fingers through hers and pulling her to his side. She looked up offering a lazy smile meant only for him.
“Most definitely, yes.” Blake couldn’t hold back his own grin. “There’s a girl.”
The feel of Blake’s hand, warm and sure, laced through hers sent a jolt of pure, uncomplicated happiness straight to Jillian’s heart. She leaned into his side, the solid strength of him a comforting anchor in the whirlwind of the last few days. She met his smile with one of her own, a silent, shared acknowledgment that this, whatever this was, was most definitely, very real.
Phil Mercer’s gaze moved from their joined hands to her face, a flicker of professional calculation in his eyes. “Well,” his manager mode clicked back into place, “that certainly changes things.” He turned his full attention to her. “I hope I’m not speaking out of turn, but I need to talk some sense into this man. We have a situation.”
