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Watching the streetlights blur by, I can’t help but wonder if Blake would go to such lengths for me.
My mind wanders back to the day Damon fucked me in the woods, in the backyard of my family’s old house. My throat goes dry, my stomach coiling in on itself. He hasn’t made himself known to me for a while. I’m not sure if I should be relieved—or worried. Tomorrow is my birthday, after all. And if he’s as obsessed with me as I think he is, he’s probably up to something.
Glancing over at Blake, I can see his jaw tensing. I’m not sure what he’s thinking. But he’s mentioned how work has been stressing him out lately. Briefly, his blue eyes meet mine, and he gives me a soft smile before focusing back on the road.
Since my father’s execution, Blake has been incredibly supportive—providing a shoulder to cry on and randomly showing up with coffee and donuts on my days off. He went the extra mile to make sure I was okay. For the first time in a long time, I feel …safe.
But as we pull into the parking lot of Grand Pointe Apartments, I can’t help but worry. Will Damon show up? I take a deep breath to calm myself as Blake parks in his spot and shuts off the engine.
“Hey,” he says softly, taking my hand in his. His brow knits with concern, and I can tell he senses something’s wrong with me.
I don’t want to ruin our evening, so I plaster on a smile. “Hey to you.”
“Is something bothering you?” he asks, leaning forward to place a sweet kiss on my forehead. “You’ve been quiet for a bit.”
“I’m fine,” I lie. “Just thinking about everything that’s happened—my father. Jen …”
His brow creases in silent understanding as he nods, and I appreciate him for not pressing me. After getting out of the car, he circles around to my side and opens the door to help me out. We walk to the building in silence, the only sound being our shoes against the concrete.
Blake is unusually quiet as we make our way up the stairs. I try to calm the worry in my chest, but all I can think about is Damon and whether or not he’ll show up. I keep expecting to see him every time we turn a corner, but he never appears. When we finally reach Blake’s apartment, I let out a sigh of relief.
Blake inserts his key into the lock and turns it only partway before he throws a grin at me over his shoulder. “Close your eyes,” he instructs. “And don’t open them ‘til I tell you to.”
I look at him for a moment, tilting my head in confusion before returning his grin and obliging. I hear him opening the door, then he takes my hand and leads me into the apartment. As the door shuts, I hear footsteps and rustling before he returns to my side, tugging me along.
“Open them,” he says once we stop.
I take in the scene: a happy birthday banner hangs from the ceiling, surrounded by helium balloons in a variety of colors. On the kitchen table sits a cake with lit candles shaped like a two and a three. I glance back at Blake in surprise, my heart filling with warmth.
“Do you like it?” he asks, his arm snaking around my waist. “I know it’s a bit early, but …”
I nod wordlessly before finally finding my voice again. “It’s perfect,” I say, stunned by his thoughtfulness. He even remembered my favorite cake: red velvet with cream cheese frosting. The last time someone made it for me was my father when I was a kid. Before that horrible night when he caught me covered in blood, knife in hand …
Blake draws me closer, his breath tickling my ear. “Happy birthday, Mia,” he murmurs.
Shoving away the memory, I lean into his touch, desperate to forget. “Thank you.”
“Blow out the candles and make a wish,” he says, smiling.
“Not gonna sing to me?” I ask playfully.
“Not much of a singer, really.”
We both burst into laughter.
I close my eyes and wish for a brighter future. One with Blake by my side, where death no longer haunts me from the shadows. For one night, at least, I can forget about my past and embrace what’s right in front of me. Then I blow out the candles.
Blake cuts into the cake, plating me a slice, and then does the same for himself. “Does the birthday girl know what she wants for her celebratory dinner tomorrow?” he asks, his tone cheeky. “I have work, but I can swing by the store and pick up ingredients.”
“Anything you make me will be amazing,” I say as we go over to the couch and sit. “How about your famous lasagna?”
His eyes shine with something akin to adoration. “You got it, birthday girl.”
We switch on the TV and enjoy each other’s company while tucking into our respective slices. The frosting melts on my tongue, and I can’t help but let out a sigh of approval at its delectable taste. Blake is not only an amazing cook, but he’s also a talented baker. Is there anything he can’t do?
The night is a blur of laughter, an overindulgence of cake, and a few too many shots of vodka. Too soon, the clock strikes midnight, and it’s time for us to part ways. But I’m reluctant to leave. I settle against Blake’s chest as an old black-and-white sitcom plays in the background, his scent engulfing me. I feel content.
Almost as if he can read my mind, he pulls me closer, practically into his lap. “Stay with me tonight,” he mutters into my hair.
