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I thought about how combative we’d been before. Was this what it took for us to get along? Blake being three sheets to the wind?

God—sheets. I could see the outline of him under it, just like I could on that island.

I brought my gaze up fast, to his face. His expression looked… concerned.

“Are you okay, Blake?”

“I get worried sometimes.”

“About what?”

“Not remembering, when I have too many whisks… whiskseys.”

“Whiskeys,” I supplied, my voice soft. “Why do you worry?”

“My mom—she doesn’t remember.”

“When she drinks?” Then I caught myself. We were veering into territory like that information about Lila. “You don’t have to tell me anything.”

“S’okay. I want to. I never tell anyone stuff when I don’t drink. It’s lonely.”

I smiled, my heart twinging once again. “You’re not alone now, Blake.”

He smiled. Then it fell. “My mom is sick.” He tapped his head. “She’s got Alz.. early Altz…”

My stomach dropped. “Alzheimer’s?”

He nodded. “She doesn’t remember me.” He laughed, briefly, but it was like a clap in the room. Pained. “That’s not funny, is it?”

“No,” I said, my voice soft.

His eyes grew wet. “Sometimes she thinks I’m my dad, or my brothers. Those are good days.”

My heart twisted harder. I still grieved for my mom’s passing—every day—but I wondered if having her there but not there would be harder than her being gone.

I wanted to cradle this man’s head in my arms, tell him it was okay to feel. I shifted my hands beside me to push myself off the bed.

But then Blake waved his hand. “It’s okay.” He opened his mouth and closed it like he was physically wrenching the feelings away, and apparently it worked, because when he turned back to me next, he was smiling.

“You wanna ask me stuff? I’ll forget tomorrow.”

I really reallyreallyshould have gone. But I found my legs glued to the bed. “Where did you grow up?”

“Seattle.”

“How many siblings do you have?”

“Two. Brothers.”

“Did you have a happy childhood?”

“My dad’s a dick.”

God, this man.

“He still watches every move I make. He likes to tell me whenever I fuck it up. He texts me to tell me.”

He said it so matter-of-factly, like this was a normal thing. My own dad may be off in some weird world of his own, but he was never, ever cruel. He loved us. He was always on my side. Even if he was as far away as he could be when I needed him the most. Even if he couldn’t give me business advice, moral support would have been invaluable.