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“Could you do something for me? A small favor?” I asked.

“Depends.”

“Could you give me time to get there? Please don’t tell him I’m here. I need to talk to him. It’s important.” I was suddenly more afraid than ever that if he knew I was on the way he might be the one to run this time.

“I can do that.” He grinned.

I looked at the clock on the wall. “I need to go if I’m going to catch him.”

“Aw, you’ll be fine. He’ll be there ’til closin’ time.” Cole winced as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

My smile changed quickly. “What are you saying? He planned to stay out all night?”

I tried to keep the jealousy and suspicions out of my voice, but it was hard to forget the fan girl groupies who were always waiting for Blake after his shows. Any one of them would be more than happy to go home with him, if he gave them the chance. A sour pit formed in my stomach.

“You’ve been gone almost two months, girl. I think you need to get down there and see for yourself.” Cole walked to the office and turned off the lights.

I fumbled with the doorknob and walked out, the briskness of October wrapping around my shoulders. Cole was right behind me. I looked at the rental car and thought of the twenty-minute drive to the Dock House. I wasn’t sure I could make it there; my emotions were all over the place.

Cole patted me on the shoulder before walking to his Jeep. “Enjoy the show. It was good seeing you.” He climbed in and peeled onto the road before I could pepper him with more questions about Blake. I wasn’t prepared for what I was going to say to him. How did I tell him he was about to become a father?

Damn it. I better get this over with.. I sent the car into drive and made my way to Oakton, to Blake.

37

Sierra

Tuesday nights in October were a far cry from the crowded summer nights I was used to. I pulled into an empty parking space close to the Dock House sidewalk. Blake’s truck wasn’t here, but Cole had told me this was where he was for the night.

This was the last place I should be. The absolute last place. I’d woken up this morning in hot and dusty Dallas, and now I was standing outside of the Dock House while boats rocked in their slips.

My heel made a hollow sound as it hit the parking lot pavement. I slammed the car door behind me and inhaled, taking in this place and all the memories we had made.

The wind whipped through my hair. I hesitated. This was all wrong. I shouldn’t be here. But I had to know. I had to see him again.

I pushed open the door, my heart in my throat, my palms dewy with perspiration, my breath fevered.

Was any of it real, or had it all just been a flash of summer heat?

I didn’t know whether to run into the bar screaming his name or sneak in like a spy. Right now, nothing made any sense.

I took a deep

breath and walked through the door, opting for the less dramatic entrance choice. The lights were low and candles dotted the tables. From behind the bar, I saw the bartender leaning on her elbows, eyes fixed on the stage. I scanned the room, skipping over the locals who were listening to the performance. There he was, sitting on the stage, holding his guitar. I walked in as the song he was playing ended.

The handful of drinkers started clapping. I’d never seen the place so empty.

“One more before I take a break, y’all.” Blake spoke into the mic. “This is something new I just wrote. So just indulge me for a minute. I’m bearing a little of my soul tonight.”

My throat tightened. I stepped one foot in front of the other and slid into an open seat at the back of the bar. I thought maybe the shadows would protect me. He couldn’t see me in the dark corner.

“Whoooo, baby. You sing whatever you want!” one of the fan girls shouted from a nearby bar stool.

I shot her a death stare.

Blake’s laugh filled the bar. “Calm down, Cece. I’ll play your song in the next set.”

I thought he winked at the girl. Maybe this was a mistake. A huge mistake. What was I thinking coming here? That he would be different? That he would change? That he had held a flame for me as deep and heated as the one I held for him.