"I don't know. I think he wants to hurt me, and hurting you would hurt me."
"So you think he put a hit out and had someone crash into me?"
"That's what it looks like, and someone leaving the pictures here makes me think it's some type of warning or threat."
He pulls his phone out of his pocket and types furiously into it before slamming it on the counter and busting his fist through the kitchen wall.
I jump at the outburst, and he turns to face me, "Damn it, I'm sorry." He apologizes as he gathers the pictures up and crams them back in the envelope.
"Blake, I just.. I'm sorry." He takes a step toward me. "So much has happened in the past few weeks, I'm just not myself, all I want to do is…"
I stop him right there, finishing his sentence. "Keep me safe?"
He rounds the island, placing his hand on the back of my arm, he starts to speak, but I shrug out of his grasp, cutting him off. "Well, you left me for a month, and apparently, I'm still not safe."
I think about the crash, about how Ryan conveniently hired me to photograph his wedding.
"Remember that night we spent on your boat?"
"I remember every second we have ever spent together." He sighs.
"You said…" I use my fingers to imitate a quote, "You won't deal with anything alone." He looks down at his feet, defeated.
"Did you really mean that, or was that just a ploy to sleep with the girl next door?"
"Blakely, this was never about sex, you know that."
I take a deep breath to calm myself before responding, "I'm sorry," I say, attempting to steady my breathing. "I didn't mean that."
"I know," He whispers.
"I have spent so much time working on myself, getting to a place where I felt like I could just beme. After I lost my baby, there was a time where I would go to sleep, not caring whether or not I woke up the next day. I would go through everyday feeling like a bomb on a timer just waiting to self-destruct." He pushes a strand of hair behind my ear, taking the seat next to me. "I still feel pain every day. I crave a certain peace that I'm not sure I'll ever find. I love you, but the back and forth isn't good for me, Judson. You aren't good for me, not right now. I don't want any more setbacks."
CHAPTER 41
JUDSON
February 27
I drag myself out of bed two hours late, "Shit," I mumble, reaching for my phone to check it. The missed calls and texts aren't surprising, and I start to text Carter back when his name flashes on the screen.
"Yeah," I answer.
"Where the fuck are you? You're going to miss the flight."
"I'm leaving now. I'll be there in 20."
He mumbles something before hanging up.
I drag myself out of bed and grab the bag that I packed and conveniently positioned by the door. I need a shower, but I also need to make it to the airport.
The car drops me off at the entrance about 30 minutes later, and after finding the right concourse, I step directly on the plane. I shove my bag in the overhead bin and plop down in the aisle seat next to Carter.
"You look like shit," He laughs, tipping his water bottle back.
He is dressed in slacks and button-down, and I struggled to get out of pajamas, opting for jeans and a t-shirt.
"Can you just give it a rest?" I snap.