Page 82 of What He Always Knew

In my dreams, it always came back to us. No matter how bad the fight, or how long the distance, or how persistent her husband was — she was always mine in the end. I’d dreamed of this day so many times in the past two months, and every time, it ended with her in my arms.

I just couldn’t imagine another option, another way for the day to turn out. Charlie was meant to be mine since we were kids. We were born for one another, destined to find a home in the other, and I couldn’t picture a world where we didn’t work out. It had to be us.

It always had been.

But, my heart still broke for the woman sitting beside me, the woman who had also been a home for me at one time. She was a temporary home, one I took advantage of and moved away from too easily. She’d given me all of her heart, all of her trust, and I hadn’t known what to do with it because it wasn’t what I wanted.

There was no excuse to be made. I had treated her poorly, and it had hurt her.

Every now and then, when her eyes would drift to the far side of the room, I would look up at her. I would trace the edges of her slender face, marvel over the brightness of her hair, and remember a time when seeing those things was the only joy in my life. It wasn’t difficult to close my eyes and remember the darkness, the depression, the long, drunken nights and even more painful mornings where she was my only saving grace.

Blake had put me before herself in every way possible when my family had passed, and she’d shown me the first love of my life. She’d loved me when I was completely unlovable, when most of my friends walked away. She’d helped me stand when I was weak, when I had no will to even crawl, and I would be eternally thankful to her for that.

I’d told her that, over and over, all night long. I did love her, I always would, but not in the way I loved Charlie. It was just that simple — but though it was easy for me to say, it was torture for her to hear. That’s why she couldn’t let it go, why she couldn’t leave, why all her bags were packed and in her car and yet still, she sat there, on my couch, unable to move.

Blake cleared her throat, dragging her gaze back to me, which always led to mine falling back to my hands or the floor.

“Any sane person would have left by now,” she said. “And yet I’m still sitting here, waiting for something. I don’t know what.”

I just swallowed. There were no words for me to say — none that hadn’t already been said.

“I’m sure I already know the answer to this,” Blake continued, squaring her shoulders to face me fully. “But I need to ask, anyway. I need to hear you say it.”

I lifted my eyes to hers, giving her the respect she deserved in that moment. It hurt to look at her when I knew I was the cause of the pain she endured, but I needed to take it. I needed to accept what I’d done.

“If it came down to it, and you had to choose between us… between me and Charlie… who would you choose?”

She asked it as if it were a hypothetical question, a scenario we’d never be in, but we were already living it. We were already at that apex, at the point where she was asking me to choose her, to be with her, and we both knew I couldn’t.

Charlie was the woman my heart beat for, and I couldn’t change that any easier than I could change how the moon revolved around the Earth. It would always be true, no matter the time, no matter the distance, no matter the circumstance.

I shook my head, knowing Blake already knew the answer just like she said she did.

“No, damn it, Reese,” she said, voice louder now. “I need to hear you say it.”

I sniffed, looking down at my shoes before I found her gaze again. The way her blue eyes bore into mine, begging me to prove her instinct wrong, killed me — especially when I knew I wouldn’t.

“It’s Charlie,” I whispered. “I’m sorry, Blake… but it always has been.”

Her eyelids fluttered at my words, her eyes glossing, but she sniffed back her emotion and pulled her long hair over her shoulder as she ripped her gaze away.

For a while she just sat there, and I watched her while she looked around the house, as if she was deconstructing every dream she’d had for what would happen inside those walls. Maybe she saw herself moving here permanently, saw us building a home and eventually a family. Maybe she really hadn’t seen this coming, hadn’t felt how distant I’d been since she’d arrived, how different it had been from when we were in New York together.

It was like watching an entire kingdom crumble in her eyes, and I was the one holding the hammer that took down the first wall.

Finally, Blake stood, snatching her keys off the coffee table and crossing her arms as she looked down at me.

“Let me ask you this last question,” she said, her voice soft but steady. “If she doesn’t pick you, would you want me then?”

I grimaced, stomach turning with even the thought of it.

“There’s no right answer to that question.”

“I didn’t ask if there was a right answer,” she said. “I asked whatyouranswer is. If she doesn’t pick you,” she repeated, this time waiting until my eyes found hers again before she finished. “Would you ever want me, Reese?”

There had been many times in my life when I’d recognized that I could sometimes be a shitty human. I’d broken many girls’ hearts, pulled pranks that went too far, saw disappointment in both my mother and my father’s eyes too many times to remember them all. But in that moment, with Blake looking at me like I was tossing her heart in a paper shredder right in front of her — that was the worst.

I didn’t look away when I shook my head in answer, and the pain on her face when she registered the meaning was an image I’d never forget.