"Nah, you can do it," I reply with a laugh as I wrap my arms around him before kissing him deeply.
"I missed you," he whispers against my hair as he holds me tight.
"You saw me this morning," I say with a smile.
"So?"
I shake my head and let go of him, still smiling, and walk over to the kitchen to serve our food as Cole gives me the details on his day. As I listen to him talk excitedly about the convention he's been attending in a local hotel this week, I find myself replaying my own day. All of my days are the same—I wake up, eat, read, help Aimee study most days, and wait for Cole. That's it. My life has fallen into this unexciting routine that I never imagined for myself. Everybody keeps telling me to give it time, that I can still do what I wanted to do before all of this, but I don't know if I want to. I'm not sure if I can. But what do you do when everything you've always pictured yourself doing suddenly seems stupid?
"What's wrong, babe?" Cole asks, bringing me out of my daydream.
"Nothing, why?"
He puts his fork down and wipes his mouth before holding his hands out in front of him and signaling me to give him mine, which I do.
"What's going on?" he asks, concerned as he draws circles on the backs on my hands.
My shoulders slump and I let out a breath, looking down before replying. "I just don't know who I am anymore. I don't know who I want to be or what I want to do. The whole becoming a lawyer thing seems dumb to me now. I know I can't help the people I wanted to help originally, because the people that have been wronged will always be wronged, and the system won't change that."
My eyes flutter to his, fully expecting him to be giving me an incredulous look. He surprises me by smiling at me instead. "You have time. You have the rest of your life to figure out what you want to do. I'll help you, we all will. You can still take the Bar, though. You worked hard to get to law school and you worked hard to get through it, baby. You shouldn't give up just because some bastards decided to fuck with your plans. What about social work? You can figure out how you can help kids that have been through similar things that we went through. There are a bunch of kids that get taken from their homes every day. Maybe not kidnapped, but taken away from terrible parents."
I smile as I listen to all of his suggestions, thankful that he's willing to help me find what's right for me. I don't know what I did to deserve this man in my life, but I'm glad I have him. We spend the rest of our night on the computer, researching social workers and attorneys that work with them until I decide that I am going to take the Bar exam, and I'm going to pass it.
The next morning as Cole and I shower together, he tells me about some sports gala we have to go to next week. He suggests I call Becky and talk to her about wardrobe since she's gone in the past and will be there as well. Once he leaves for the day, I start splitting up the box of memories that I have. I leave the things I actually want to remember and look at in one, and toss the things I don't care about in the other. I sort through the photos I got from Aunt Shelley and examine all of the faces carefully. I empty out one of the manila envelopes on the floor, seeing her family photos in a different light now that I know they're my family too. One by one I put them in the box of things I don't want, pausing when I hear three loud knocks on the door.
As I unfold myself from the floor, I idly wonder if it's Spencer telling me he's going to lunch. Instead I see a man wearing a fitted black T-shirt with brown scruffy hair. His hazel eyes look serious when they finally look from the floor to the peephole, and I wonder what the hell he's doing here. Opening the door slowly, I stick my head out to look around and see Spencer at the end of the hall.
"What are you doing here?" I ask with wide eyes.
"Can I come in?" he asks, tucking his hands in his pockets.
My eyes trace the black outline of the tattoo on his left arm, squinting as I try to figure out what it is. Seemingly reading my mind, he takes his hand out of his pocket and turns his arm over, giving me full view of a crest with three lions in the middle. I nod in appreciation, making him chuckle.
"I don't think Cole would like it if you and I were alone in our home," I respond.
"Don't blame him," Dean says with a shrug. "I'll be quick. I feel bad about leaving you hanging like that."
"Just talk."
"Alex freaked the fuck out after you left and when he found out what happened...what Benny did to you, Alex kicked him out," Dean starts, nodding in confirmation as my mouth drops open. "Yeah. He said he doesn't want him around, period. So I've been trailing Benny and…I dunno, Blake, I just have a really bad feeling about this shit.
"Dean, why do you work with these people? Why? You said they were family, but why?" I ask quietly.
"My mom married Jamie O'Brien when I was little, chick. I don't know anything else," he says with a shrug. "This is my life. Alex and Benny were long gone by the time I got to their house, but still...they're family."
I raise an eyebrow. "What about your sister?"
"Sandra's safe," he replies quietly. "My other sister..." his voice trails off.
"She's the girl? The one you couldn't help?" I whisper.
He nods, his eyes looking grave, as if I opened up a wound he thought he'd covered.
"I'm sorry," I whisper.
"It was a long time ago," he responds.
"What does it have to do with me though? Why does Benny still want to get to me?"
When he exhales I catch a whiff of the cigarette he smoked before getting here. "Word is, Liam screwed Benny over and took the money. Benny wanted revenge and you were it...are it, really."
"Liam doesn't want me. He doesn't care about me," I say with an eye roll.
The side of Dean's mouth turns up. "Trust me, chick, he wants you. He raised you for four years—you don't have memory of that? That man loves you, B. I'm not a father, so I don't have firsthand experience, but even as an uncle, I know that once you have a kid under your wing, you're not gonna do wrong by them."
"Not everybody feels that way."
Dean shrugs. "True."
"Whatever," I mumble. "Are we done?"
Dean searches my face before tucking my hair behind my ear. "Yeah, we're done." My breath hitches when he leans in close to my ear. "Don't trust those cops, Blake. And be careful with your guard dogs."
I look from Dean's serious eyes toward Spencer at the end of the hall and shake my head, exhaling a shaky breath before saying goodbye to Dean. I head back inside my place and lock the door behind me. A cloud of doubt consumes me for the rest of the day as I think about everybody in my life and how little I can trust the ones I thought I was safe with. I decide to bury my thoughts in my law books yet again and forget about the world around me.
I pace around the bedroom taking a series of deep breaths before deciding to wake her up. I don't know why I'm so nervous. Actually, I know exactly why I'm so nervous. My plan could backfire on me completely, and if it does, I'll never forgive myself for it. Blake thinks I've been gone on business a lot lately, and I have been but not all of it has been business. Nobody told me remodeling a house was going to be so damn difficult. Well, nobody other than Aubry and what the hell does he know about remodeling homes? Apparently more than I do. He should've been a damn architect instead of going into advertising.
I close my eyes and relish the silence, the calm before the storm, if you will, before striding over to Blake and kneeling down beside her.
"Baby," I whisper, brushing h
er long unruly hair away from her face, "you need to wake up."
Her replying grumble brings a smile to my face, and I repeat the gesture a couple of times before placing a kiss on her nose.
"What?" she asks, clearly annoyed to be losing sleep, and I can't really blame her. I kept her up way past her bedtime last night.
"Wake up, babe. It's your birthday," I say quietly.
Her long lashes flutter open, and she pins me with that sultry gaze that does inexplicable things to my insides. As much as I'd love to continue my exploration of last night and find out how many times I can make her come in a row, I decide to stand and give her enough room to get on her feet. I consider going into her closet and picking out an outfit for her, but walk to the kitchen instead because I don't want to start a fight this early in the morning and definitely not on her birthday. Once the coffee is made, I take out a bowl and start making her favorite pancakes. As I'm flipping them, I hear the door of our room open and I turn around to watch her stumble out, still looking half asleep but cute as hell with her wet hair and short summer dress.
"Morning, birthday girl," I greet her with a smile that turns into a laugh when she glares at me.
"Thanks for breakfast," she says quietly, still pretending not to be impressed by my birthday wish, even though her eyes are smiling. I feel her eyes on me as I scribble down a little note for her. When I'm finished with it, I read it over twice for good measure:
I place the note on top of the counter and pull her close to me, looking her in the eye before I kiss her thoroughly.
"Eat, I'm going to get a few things for us."
Once I'm in my closet, I grab a bag and pack the clothes I'd set aside for the weekend before quickly sorting through the drawer where I keep my watches and grabbing one. I go into Blake's closet and grab a handful of her underwear, not caring which ones I choose since she won't be wearing or keeping any intact anyway. I get two of her dresses from the hangers and pack those as well, along with a pair of shorts, T-shirt, and bathing suit, just in case. I don't get any of her bathroom things, I figure mine will do, and worse case, we can always take a trip to Target.