Love Song(120)

My mom tells me it’s completely normal. Blake’s hormone levels are dropping, and it can take weeks for what I’m told is the “pregnancy hormone” to leave her system. But it’s hard to watch. No, it’s excruciating, especially when she barely looks at me. Barely talks to me. We haven’t even been alone since she accused me of pretending to be cool with the pregnancy and then chose to seek comfort from her mom rather than me.

I’m trying not to take it personally. Blake is close with her mom, and I know Grace is her support system—it’s only natural she’s leaning on her.

But I wish she would lean on me, even just a little.

The day after she’s discharged, I decide to fix her some lunch and see if she’ll eat it outside with me on the deck like we used to do. She hasn’t left her room since she got back from the hospital.

Mom finds me in the kitchen, smiling at the sight. “He’s cooking.”

“He’s cooking,” I confirm. “Well, sort of. It’s just grilled cheese.”

I lift the sandwich out of the pan with a spatula and set it down on the plate. As I grab a knife and prepare to cut the grilled cheese in half, a memory surfaces, making me glance over at my mom.

“Hey, remember that time I asked you and Dad why you cut diagonally and not directly in half, and you said it’s because diagonally means you love the person?” I snort. “And then Dad made us grilled cheese that one time and purposely served everyone but me a diagonal cut?”

Mom huffs out a laugh. “And you ran upstairs crying. God, your dad is such an asshole.”

“Nah, you have to admit, it was a pretty funny prank.”

“Well, obviously. But still an asshole. You bringing that up to Blake?”

“I’m gonna see if she’ll come down. Guard the sandwiches, will you? Don’t let the dads get them.”

“With my life,” she promises. Before I can walk away, Mom touches my arm. “She’ll be okay, honey. She’s just gone through a trauma, but she’s strong.”

I nod. “I know.”

“And those hormones can be a real bitch. Try not to take anything she says to heart. She’ll probably feel bad about it later.”

“You’ve heard her snapping at me then,” I say wryly.

“Yes, but she’s been snapping at everyone, if that makes you feel better.”

“Actually, it does.”

Upstairs, I find the door to the yellow room closed. I really did disrupt the entire ecosystem of rooms by taking the blue room without thinking. With Blake in the yellow room, Gigi and Ryder had to sleep in the mountain room, which means I got to hear my sister complain endlessly about how she much hates the mountain room because there are too many mosquitoes on that side of the house. Who doesn’t like a majestic mountain view? My twin is such a diva.

I knock on the door and am rewarded with a soft, “Come in.”

That’s promising.

The first thing I see when I step inside is the suitcase on the bed.

I take it back. Not promising at all.

“Why are you packing?” I ask with a frown.

Blake glances up from the stack of T-shirts she’s folding. She’s wearing blue sweatpants and a white T-shirt, her hair arranged in a loose braid. Clothing-wise, she looks like her usual self. But I’ve never seen that vacant expression in her eyes before.

“I’m going back to Boston,” she answers. “Well, Hastings.”

“You’re not supposed to be leaving until Sunday.”

“I decided to go early.” She folds another shirt and adds it to the pile. “I want to get settled at Grandpa’s place.”

I nod. After she and Isaac broke up, she was living with her parents in Boston, but there’s really no reason for her to have to make the commute when Grace’s dad lives in an old century home in Hastings, which is only ten minutes from campus. Blake will be living there for her senior year.

“So you’re going back to school?”

“Yes.”

I press my lips together to stop the flood of words trying to escape. All the questions. So many fucking questions.

Are you angry with me?

What does this mean for us?

Why won’t you look at me?

Instead, I wander over and sit at the bay window, hands on my knees, watching her. She moves methodically, folding each item neatly. It’s completely opposite from how I leave a place. Everything’s going to have to get taken out anyway, so I just throw it all in a jumble and deal with it when I get home.

“I think I’m going back to Boston too,” I tell her.

She doesn’t even blink. “Cool.”

Cool? That’s it?

“I’ll be at home for a few weeks working in my mom’s studio with her. She’s helping me polish some tracks before I send them to Dodson.”

Still nothing.

“Yeah, I know, I know. Growth, right?”

No response. Blake pulls several sundresses off the hangers in the closet. Those cute little floral dresses she wore all summer that made my heart pound and got my dick hard.

Finally, I can’t take it anymore.

“Freckles.”

She doesn’t answer.

I get up and stride toward her, capturing her hands as she’s rolling up the dresses. Of course she’s a rolling packer. She’s the kind of person who wouldn’t want wrinkles. I disentangle her hands from the fabric.