Page 88 of Kings Don't Break
He nips at my neck one final time. His grin goes nowhere when he peers into my eyes. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
“Yeah, uh-huh. Whatever you say.”
“You staying the night?” he asks. Hope deepens his tone.
Since Mama and I moved into our own apartment, Blake’s trailer has become the location for our private time. We set aside a few hours here and there to spend together. The arrangement works a lot smoother than when the three of us were in the trailer.
I shake my head. “Can’t. I don’t like leaving Mama alone overnight.”
Blake doesn’t like my answer though he kisses my brow and tells me he understands.
We see no less of each other as January passes. Between work, our dates and outings on weekends, and our nighttime visits, we find a groove. Though I told Blake I won’t call him my boyfriend ’til I’m officially divorced, it’s what we are.
It’s what those around us recognize us as. Mason and Sydney insist on double dates. Mama taunts me anytime she catches me smiling at something Blake’s said or done. The guys at the shop give Blake shit for being a softy as far as I’m concerned.
Life is better than it’s been in years. I’m happier, more carefree than I can remember feeling in a long time. I’d never felt this way married to Ken.
There’s still a mess to sort through. The divorce proceedings. Mama’s health remains a concern. My finances, despite the help we’ve had from Blake and the MC. I want to save up enough money to be comfortable. So we’ll never have to worry about where to lay our head at night no matter what happens.
But with Blake and Mama by my side none of it feels impossible.
What Blake provides for me I do my best to provide for him—moral support and solidarity through difficult times.
He’s been struggling with things he sometimes hides from me. He forgets I know him as well as he knows me, which means I’m able to figure out what’s on his mind even if he tries to hide these things.
Blake’s family has always been a source of trauma for him. His parents never gave him the love and care he deserved as a boy growing up. Into adulthood they’ve continued their bad parenting. They’re determined to guilt trip him and make him feel like he’s a horrible son.
I’m a listening ear when he finally does confess these things to me. I gently slide my fingers into his golden strands and brush my face to his as we lay in bed in the middle of lazy, sleepy talk.
“You’re not a bad son,” I say. “You’ve given them so many chances. It’s on them to fix things.”
“My mother sure loves telling me I ruined his life.”
“It sounds to me like William Cash ruined his own life.”
He strokes my naked skin, his eyes linked with mine. “You’re biased.”
“Maybe,” I admit softly, then I kiss him on the mouth. “But I can say from experience any man who puts his hands on his wife and son isn’t a good man.”
“The guilt weighs on me anyway. I could’ve stopped what happened.”
“He could’ve too.”
“They keep inviting me for family dinner. My mother swears it’ll be different.”
“You don’t have to go alone.” I reach for his hand so I can intertwine our fingers between where our bodies lay. “Maybe it can help you. It’ll give you some kind of closure.”
His eyes twinkle. “You’d do that? You’d come with me?”
“We’re best friends, Blake. I go where you go.”
He kisses me so deeply, I’m left spinning. My heart flutters in happiness, setting me at ease as we fall asleep.
* * *
“You can go ahead. I’ll close up shop,” I say, wiping my wrench free of oil. I toss my rag over my shoulder and walk around to the other side of Daryl Weaver’s Nightster. I’ve been hard at work all day making the upgrades requested. Initially, it seemed like a job that could be completed within the day, but I’ve fallen behind.
Blake leans against the cement wall of the garage. “I’m not leaving you alone to lock up.”
