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“What would Jenny say to me about Hannah?”

“Yes, that is what I mean,” she said patiently.

“I think she’d ask how I could move on so quickly.” Even as he spoke the words aloud, they sliced through him like a razor blade. Jenny’s face twisted up in a hurt expression was something he could easily imagine, and it pained him to think about.

“Really? Or is that just your guilt?”

Blake hated that she continued to turn these feelings back around on him, rather than believe him when he said that this is how he truly believed Jenny would feel.

“I was just remembering the only time we’d discussed if one of us died, and Jenny had basically said she couldn’t imagine being with anyone but me.”

Dr. Stabler frowned at him. “And that means she’d want you to be alone for the rest of your life? I think you don’t give her enough credit. If she’s dead, and she isn’t coming back, I can’t imagine her being so selfish.”

Blake tensed. “Jenny wasn’t selfish. She was warm, generous, and kind.”

“I want you to repeat what you just said in your head and ask yourself why you think that Jenny would be disappointed in you. Especially when you yourself just admitted she wasn’t a selfish person.”

Swallowing hard, Blake imagined Jenny. If she had been the one to survive, he’d have wanted her to move on and be happy. And he really couldn’t imagine that she wouldn’t. Jenny had been too bright not to shine, and she deserved to find someone else who appreciated that.

“She would have wanted me to move on. To be happy.”

“So, the question is, is Hannah the person you want to do that with?”

Blake left the office, and as he drove home, he tried to picture his future, one where he never remarried, never had kids or was happy. Where he was still living in a one-bedroom apartment, and while all of his friends were going to events with their families, he was alone, drinking.

He didn’t want that future for himself, and neither would Jenny.

Somehow, he was going to get up the nerve to ask Hannah out, but it had been so long, he had no idea what to suggest. In a movie they couldn’t talk, and he was afraid if he actually called, he might choke on the words.

Was texting a viable option?

HANNAH TAPPED AWAY at her computer later that night, trying not to check her phone every five minutes. After waitressing and teaching, she needed the downtime getting lost in her manuscript gave her, only she was distracted.

By Blake.

Despite what Nicki said about forgetting him, she just couldn’t push him from her mind and found herself expecting him to call, which was just ridiculous.

It is the twenty-first century. I could text him.

Hannah set her phone down and walked away, temptation too great. Milo chased her heels, trying to capture them with his tiny teeth and paws, and Hannah finally scooped the puppy up and squeezed him.

“Hey, mister, we’ve talked about those razor blades in your mouth! No more biting!”

The puppy’s long wet tongue caught her on the nose, and she laughed.

Until she heard the ding of her phone.

Setting Milo back on his feet, she picked up her phone and pressed the little message icon.

Hey, Hannah, it’s Blake. Guess what I’m reading?

Tapping on the keyboard, she wrote out a long, roundabout question, then erased it, settling for short and sweet.

What?

Several minutes ticked by before it beeped again.

Blitzing Emily.