Page 46 of The Space Between
And just like that, we both stop pretending.
CHAPTER 9
Blakelyn
He doesn’t come backto bed after we get completely lost in each other… again. He got up and went outside and I said nothing, letting him have his space.
I fell asleep alone and slept fitfully, then, woke up still alone.
I stay for hours in the warm tangle of sheets that smell like river water and sweat and him, listening to every sound—each groan of the floorboards, every shift of wind through the cypress trees outside the screen window but he doesn’t come back.
Somehow, that says more than anything he’s said out loud.
He did leave a note on his pillow. Just one word.
Stay.
I did. I’m still here but not because he asked.
I stay because Ineedto. Because I want to believe what we just did—what wekeepdoing—means something to him, too… even if hecan’tsay it… even if hewon’tsay it.
I must have fallen asleep.The screaming of the kettle wakes me. The front door is wide open with only the screen door between the cabin and the woods.
Wrapping the sheet around me, I walk to the door. He’s outside, bare-chested in work-worn jeans and boots, slamming something heavy into the ground with his back to me. A post driver. The way his shoulders flex with each pound sends heat down my spine, but it’s muted now. Distant.
He left me asleep in his bed and he hasn’t looked back at me once… not even to see if I’m still here.
I pullon his t-shirt and nothing else, and step outside, barefoot, my hair still knotted from sleep, and he finally glances over.
There it is—that flicker. Thatsomethingin his eyes that makes me feel like he’s standing at the edge of a cliff and doesn’t know whether to jump or run.
He doesn’t speak.
Walking to the railing, I grip it with both hands, the wood sun-warmed and splintered beneath my fingers. “I stayed.”
He nods, jerkily, only once. “I saw.”
“That’s all?” I ask, unable to conceal the hurt I’m feeling.
His jaw flexes. “What do you want me to say, Blakelyn?”
I swallow. “Something real.”
He sets the post driver down with a heavy thud. His hands are dirty, his chest coated in the sheen of sweat, and still he lookslike something carved out of stone. Beautiful and completely immovable.
“I left you a fucking note.” He exhales. “Thatwasreal.” He’s staring at me.
“If you wanted me to stay, then, why did you leave?” I demand.
He throws the post in his hand to the ground and pulls at his hair with both hands. “Because if I didn’t… I wouldn’t have.”
My breath catches, but before I can respond, he turns, stalking toward the river. I know I’m not supposed to follow him. He doesn’t want me to.
I do it anyway.
The sun is climbing fast,already turning the air into something thick, heavy, and golden. He stands at the bank, his arms crossed, his eyes locked on the current like it might say something he’s not willing to.
“You keep doing that,” I say softly, stopping just behind him.
