Page 316 of The First Time
"A lot." His voice shifts to something contemplative.
"If you had to guess."
"Eighty. A hundred maybe."
Damn. That doesn't seem possible. I've worked hard the last three years, but nowhere near a hundred hours a week. That wouldn't leave a moment to spend with my sister.
"Why make all this money if you've got no time to enjoy it?"
"I enjoy work," he says.
"Are you sure? Maybe you're afraid of being away from work." I turn back to Blake and make eye contact. His stare is intense, but I manage to hold strong. "You're always in control."
"And it gets you off."
"Yeah." I swallow hard. "But it must get exhausting." I move towards him. Take a strawberry from his plate. "Don't you want to let go sometimes?"
He shakes his head.
"You need it, don't you?"
"Spare me the pop psychology."
"Is that why you're doing all this for your mom? Can't control that she's dying but at least you can control what she thinks of you?"
His expression hardens. "You don't know what you're talking about." But it's in his eyes. That's exactly what he's doing.
"I don't mean that you don't care. I know how hard it is to lose someone you love."
"This is what I want. That's what you need to know. You shouldn't waste your time looking for my motivation."
"What if it interests me?"
"Does it?"
"Yeah." I move closer. "You interest me."
"You're concerning me, Kat. You have doubts. I understand doubts, but I can't tolerate you backing out of this."
"What will you do?"
"I don't know. Not yet." His eyes narrow.But something bad. Something awful.
"What if your mom would rather have the truth?"
"She wouldn't."
"How do you know?"
"You've known her a few hours." He raises his voice. "I've known her my entire life."
"I'm not a child. Don't scold me."
His brow furrows. He digs his fingers into the marble. "Fine. You're an adult. You agreed to this. That's the end of the conversation."
"Blake… I…" Fuck. This is going all wrong. I'm not trying to question him. Not exactly. "I want to talk to you. Or at least… You can talk to me. It must be hard, your mom dying. I'm sure you have a lot to say. Well, a lot for you."
"No." He turns, crossing his arms over his chest, closing me out.
