Page 80 of When We Are Falling

After another longday cleaning oil at the wetlands, I pull up on Main Street, leaving Bandit snoozing in the back of the truck with the window open. It’s a cool night and I know he’ll be fine.

A few days have passed since that day on the boardwalk, me spending my mornings with the Valiant Heart’s boys at the wetlands, while trying to catch every spare moment I can with Blake.

The memory of her in my arms, soaked through, still hasn’t left me. Everything seems a little fragile at the moment, like a careful dance, both of us trying to avoid stepping on each other’s toes, trying to get things between us back to normal. I haven’t mentioned the episode with David because she hasn’t broached the subject, but it’s there between us threatening to spill over.

I walk to the Tavern, the place bustling with more energy than I’ve seen in months. It’s not at the levels it reaches duringsummer, but there are a decent number of people here given we’re well and truly in the grip of fall.

It’s good to see it like this again, alive and thriving, the runners taking food out from the kitchen and bringing back empty glasses and stacks of white plates. Carlos raises a hand when he sees me, and Blake’s behind the bar with Lucy, her face glowing—she’s in her element, talking to customers, hustling to get drinks out, and I just stand there, taking it all in.

Blake’s laugh rings out, and for a moment, I’m caught in the spell of her happiness. It’s a bright light cutting through some of the shadows that have been hanging over us. When she sees me, her smile is quick, and she waves me over.

“Hey, how was your day?”

“Oh, you know.” I lean in to kiss her. “How about you?”

“Busy. Really busy.” She glances around at the customers, but there’s a distance in her eyes, something just out of reach. She hands me a beer. “I think I’ve still got another hour or so here.”

“No worries. I’ll catch up on some emails.” I take a seat and nurse my beer, half-heartedly responding to charter boat bookings that have been coming in. My eyes keep drifting back to her, watching her move around the bar.

As Blake pours a couple of beers, I notice one of the guys at the bar leaning in closer than necessary, his eyes glued to her as she works. His gaze isn’t casual or friendly—it’s fixated, hungry, and it lingers far too long on her cleavage.

She’s used to this kind of attention, and as she sets the glasses in front of him, she meets his eyes and offers a polite smile. “Here you go.”

The guy smirks, and his gaze flicks back down to her chest. “You free later, pretty lady? Private party at the place we’re renting for the weekend.”

Blake straightens up just a little taller, casually stepping back to create more space between them. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ve got plans.” Her words are warm enough to be friendly but firm enough to make it clear she’s drawing a line. “Enjoy your drink, okay?”

As Blake turns away to serve another customer, the guy leans over the bar, staring at her ass. “You sure, sweetheart? Bet you’d change your mind if you saw what I’ve got to offer. We could have a lot of fun, you and me. You look like the kind of girl whoknowshow to have a good time. How about you let me change your mind?”

Heat flares up inside me, and I’m already halfway out of my seat. But before I can make a move, Blake shoots me a quick look over her shoulder, one that says loud and clear,I got this.

She spins back around, hands palm her hips. “This is my bar and it’s not the kind of place where that sort of talk is tolerated. If you can’t accept that, you can find somewhere else to drink. Understood?”

The guy’s smirk falters, caught off guard. He opens his mouth to say something, but Blake just stares him down, her gaze holding his until he finally gets the message.

She’s done this a thousand times—setting the boundary, so sure of herself, but the sight of her having to deal with him reawakens those protective instincts that I’m finding so hard to ignore. It’s not that I doubt her ability to handle herself—I’ve seen her shut down creeps like this with a single look.

It’s just she’s so set on standing on her own feet, sometimes she doesn’t see the wolf right in front of her. I can still see David’s hands on her, the fear in her eyes before I intervened. Adrenaline, a raw instinct to protect her, surged through me so fiercely that I didn't think—I just acted.

She wants me to respect her boundaries and let her deal with her own issues. I get it, I really do. I haven’t lived her life. Ihaven’t dealt with the things she’s dealt with. But that doesn’t mean I’m supposed to just stand by when she’s at risk, right? It’s like watching someone you love walk into traffic, and she’s telling me to just let it happen. How am I supposed to do that?

I know how competent she is, and I respect her so much… but Iloveher even more.

More than I can even put into words, and that’s exactly why this is so hard. If she can’t see how she’s putting herself in danger sometimes with her insistence on being independent, where’s the line between protecting her and respecting her? And if I cross it, does that mean I’m going to lose her?

She’s so strong, so capable, but she’s not invincible. David might be out of the picture for now, but that doesn’t mean she’s safe, doesn’t mean he won’t be back, or she won’t find herself in another tricky situation.

As much as I want things between us to get better, want to respect her boundaries, deep down I know I’ll always step in, protect her if necessary—even if it means facing the fallout. That’s what love is supposed to be, isn’t it? Fighting for each other, no matter the cost.

I check my watch and it’s been about an hour since I got to the bar. The jerk who tried to hit on her is gone, so I step outside to check on Bandit in the truck, but he’s still asleep, curled up in the backseat snoring softly. When I return to the bar, Blake’s wrapping up, chatting with the last few customers.

Soon the bar is empty, and after she locks up for the night, we head to the truck. Bandit, tail wagging like crazy, nearly knocks Blake off her feet in his excitement. She laughs and we get in, her reaching back to scratch behind his ears before I start the engine.

We get to my house and I head straight to the kitchen, where I feed Bandit. After washing my hands and rolling up my sleeves, I glance over at Blake, who’s leaning against the counter, thedownlight sending bright ruby-shards through her hair. “How about I cook tonight? You’ve had a long day.”

Blake raises an eyebrow. “And let me guess, you’re not going to let me help at all?”

“I think I can handle it,” I say. “You just relax.”

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