Heavy footsteps sounded on the bridge, and she looked up. The birds started chirping melodiously. Even the squirrels seemed to pause in their play. Blake walked toward her with purpose, dressed in a simple white T-shirt and khaki shorts, his shoulders as broad as the posts the construction crew had used, his legs still so muscular her mouth went dry. Damn it all to hell. His effect on her hadn’t diminished one bit.
When he reached the end of the bridge, he stopped and smiled at her. Simply smiled. The marks of grief were visible in the new grooves around his mouth. Her heart melted like wax.
Oh, Blake.
“I told you I wanted to share Touchdown with you.” His deep voice sent a crackle of electricity through her as it spanned the distance between them.
He had told her. Repeatedly. Even though it had killed her, she’d refused. The temptation of allowing him back into her life had been too strong.
She stood, still holding a squirming Touchdown in her arms. “I tried to contact you. Blake, I’m so sorry about Adam. More than I can say.”
His eyes filled, and he knuckled away the tears he wasn’t scared to show anyone. They used to joke about him being the one who cried. After a loss. While watching a teammate be carried off the field on a stretcher. After winning a Super Bowl. He had always worn his heart on his sleeve. Most of the time his intense emotions scared her.
She took a half step toward him, desperate to comfort him, and then realized she was naked under her robe. Bad idea.
“I went off the grid for a while. Mom told me you called her,” he said in a hoarse voice. “It meant a lot to her. Despite how things ended between us, they still really love you.”
Hurt and regret washed over her, and she clutched the dog to her chest, trying to pull the pieces of herself back together. “When I heard, I…didn’t know what to think…and when you didn’t call me back...” She couldn’t tell him how much that had worried her. How the thought of his suffering had kept her awake those first two nights.
“I picked up the phone at least a hundred times to call you after he died, but I stopped myself.” He swiped at his nose. “Please understand. I didn’t want you to come to the funeral to try and comfort me—something I knew you would do. It’s who you are, babe.”
Yeah, she’d always been able to give comfort. Her problem was the inability to accept it.
“So now I know a little of how you felt when Kim died,” he said.
The eyes that met hers now were filled with love and hurt and empathy. And there it was again—that softening inside her she’d so feared. She fought to steady herself against it.
“I’m here to help you through it,” he said, his voice deeper now. “Maybe it will bring us back together. God, I hope it does. I hope it can at least give us the closure we need to live our own lives. I couldn’t get over you, Nat, despite everything.”
In a moment of pure honesty, she could admit to herself that she hadn’t gotten over him either—far from it.
Her knees were shaking now. “So this bridge…you’re what?” It took a moment for her mind to wrap around it. “You’re the owner of this bridge?”
“Yes. And the new owner of the house next door.” He traced the bridge’s post absently. “I told you I wasn’t letting you leave me. Not after the progress we made a few months ago at the Spring Practice Dinner.”
Off balance, she set Touchdown on the ground. He’d bought the house next door?
“Blake. That was nothing.” The words came automatically. Even after the divorce, she’d continued to cater the Raiders’ events. This year’s dinner had been a monumental disaster.
He tucked his hands in his pockets and strolled toward her. “You kissed me, Nat.”
“I was—”
“You can’t blame it on being drunk,” he said, pointing his finger at her. “You were working.”
So, she got a little carried away when she drank. As in, she didn’t always remember what he called The Natalie Show. “My future boss was there, so I was…preoccupied,” she said lamely.
“Bull. You were preoccupied because of me. If I didn’t matter, I wouldn’t be able to get to you. And you wouldn’t have kissed me. You certainly wouldn’t have cried for the first time since I’ve known you.”
That lone tear had betrayed her. He knew she never cried. Not even after Kim died. She wouldn’t allow the weakness. Couldn’t bear it.
“You’re making too much of that,” she said, throwing her arms open in exasperation, only then realizing her robe was practically gaping open. She immediately brought the edges together.
“Some would say I am,” he said with a new shadow in his brown eyes.
“Please tell me you didn’t retire because of me.” Surely Adam passing away had to be the reason. She couldn’t handle the guilt otherwise.
He exhaled sharply. “You’re hoping it’s because Adam passed away. Sorry, Nat. Adam had been ill most of the year, and while I took his death hard, it wasn’t the reason I left football. It only showed me the truth. It’s why I decided to take action to make things right between us.”
Rooted to the ground, she could only gape at him. So, he really had retired because of her. “Blake! Football is everything to you.”