The whole dinner thing with Ty and Jack fell apart. All the better. That next day he had work to do. Not on the house, but with Charlie.
There was one definitive way to put this damn mess with Charlie to rest. Blake needed to track down Den Pallasalla. He dreaded the whole fucking idea, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t have any other option.
Finding someone on the internet was relatively easy. And for a person with Blake’s expertise, it was as easy as changing a password.
Blake stopped the car outside of the simple two-story house in Lace Saturday afternoon. He strode to the door and knocked. On closer look, the place desperately needed a fresh coat of paint. Dang, Den. Have some pride.
In a beat, the front door swung open.
“Yeah,” Den said before the realization of Blake’s presence settled in. His eyes went wide. “Blake. Hey. Funny seeing you. How’s it goin’?”
“Den, we need to talk—either inside or out. What’s it gonna be?” Blake asked in a calm voice. He truly felt calm. Their conversation was going to be straight-forward and truthful. Blake didn’t need to rip the guy apart. He’d moved passed that anger.
“Outside.” Den swung his head back and called, “Honey, I’ll be right back,” then pulled the door closed behind him.
Blake took a seat on an old wooden chair.
Den seated a few feet away. “What’s up?” His voice betrayed him. He was nervous, Blake knew.
“I came here to discuss what happened at CSU with Charlie. I never came to you.” He leaned forward and leveled the guy with a stare that told him he wouldn’t be fucked with. “I need to know the truth, the whole truth, right now.”
Den’s Adam’s apple bobbed with a hard swallow. He looked down and hadn’t raised his head for a while. Blake’s patience wore thin.
Then, Den’s shoulders slumped. He began, and not a moment too soon. “Charlie dropped by my frat house with her girlfriends. One of my brothers dated one of her friends. She told me she wasn’t there to see me and that they would all be leaving soon. But we already had several people over, and the keg was tapped, so it was easy for everyone to grab a drink before hitting the road.” Den wiped his brow with his hand. “I brought beers over to her and her friends, but first, I slipped a Mickey in hers.”
Blake clenched his fists into tight balls. The fury almost shot him from his chair. He wanted to plow into Den, and body-slam him to the ground. The bile in his throat almost gagged him.
“When I saw it taking effect, I took her to my room. I was pretty drunk and not thinking clearly, Blake.” Like that was going to be some acceptable explanation for his fucked-up behavior.
“All I knew is that I wanted her back, and I saw that as an opportunity to try and get her back. I took off her clothes and mine. I set up the camera to take pictures of us. Those were the ones I sent to you.”
Blake’s nostrils flared. He sucked in a long breath. “Did you have sex with her?”
Den shook his head. “No, swear to God.” He scratched the side of his neck. “I was too drunk to get it up.”
Blake slowly exhaled. That’s something.
“Is there anything else I need to know? Anything you’re forgetting?” he asked still containing his anger.
“No, Blake. Nothing. I promise. The whole thing backfired on me. She didn’t want anything to do with me ever again. She was so pissed. May still be, I don’t know. At one point, I thought she was going to hug me, and she kneed me in the balls instead.” Den winced at his words.
Blake bit back a smile. Now that sounded like his girl.
At least Den had the decency to look contrite. “Blake, I’m sorry, man. She did nothing wrong. It was all me,” he said as he patted his hand several times over her chest.
“Alright. That’s all I need to know.” Blake rose, and without a goodbye or a handshake, he left the dickhead alone to think about how he’d devastated two lives for his own stupid, selfish gains.
Of course, Blake thought to himself, you’re a dickhead too because you never believed Charlie. He’d automatically thought she cheated on him with an old boyfriend of two years.
What was his fear? That he couldn’t compete with their history?
That was bullshit. He knew deep inside what he and Charlie had she’d never had with any other man. She told him so, several times, before and after all the Den-shit went down.
Part of the blame rested on his shoulders. He knew in his gut, what they had had was real, and he screwed up not believing her. Their lives were changed forever because of his stupidity.
He knew the time had come to swallow his pride and face her. He owed her that, at the very least.
Sunday evening turned out to be a beautiful night for sitting on the back porch of her house. The sun sat low in the sky and cast the mountains in the most amazing shade of copper. She took another sip of wine. The unfortunate thing was that Charlie was still alone with her thoughts. Her thoughts about Blake continued to consume her.
She heard rustling coming from the side of the house. Her breath caught.
Speak of the devil. There came Blake, around the corner of her house. He wore black jeans with a fitted gray t-shirt that defined his chest muscles. He approached. Charlie didn’t sense anger or hostility from him.
She took in air, hoping to calm her jumpy heart.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“Can I sit for a minute?”
She met his eyes, trying to read what he wanted. “Sure.”
“I stopped by so I could talk to you.”
“About?”
He rubbed his palms down his jean-clad thighs and looked her way. His eyes intense. “About what happened between us.”
Shit!
“I went to see Den.”
Did she hear that right? She thought Blake hated the guy. “You did what?”
He leaned in closer, resting his forearms on his thighs. “I went to see Den. I never talked to him.” He shifted slightly. “Probably because I was afraid I’d beat the living shit out of him.”
Charlie turned her head to stare out for a moment before looking back at him. He was going there. Eight years had passed, and now he wanted to discuss it.
“I asked him to tell me what happened. He told me he drugged you so that he could take those pictures, making it look like you’d slept with him, and then sent them to me.”
“Mm-hmm.” Her lips thinned. She should be happy all this was finally getting resolved, instead only anger filled her. Her face grew warmer.
She stood and paced away from him a few steps before circling back. “Isn’t that what I told you?” she asked in a clipped tone, crossing her arms. Suddenly she felt chilled.
He rose. “Yes, Charlie. And I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”
His eyes dropped. He looked as sad as she felt.
She moved two steps to stand directly in front of him. So close, she could feel the heat emanating from his body. “You let him ruin everything.” Her voice flat.
Tears flooded her eyes.
“I didn’t know,” he replied softly.
Her hands balled up. Blood ran wild in her veins. She reached up and pounded her fists on his chest twice. His eyes grew big as saucers. “You should have known.” Her voice rose. “You should have trusted me. Trusted us.” She hit his chest again, and he didn’t budge. She lashed out, and he took it. He deserved it.
“Yes. I was wrong. I was a fool, Charlie.” His eyes clouded. “I’m so very sorry.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her heart threatened to explode from her chest. Nails dug into her palms. She hit her fists again on his chest and repeated herself. “You should have known.” Another pound.
Blake wrapped his arms around her body and pulled her flush to him. He leaned down to rest his cheek beside her. “I am so sorry.”
Her forehead rested on his shoulder. “I loved you,” she said into his shirt. A sob escaped her lips. Her legs threatened to collapse.
Eight years. Eight years she’d waited to hear those words. She cried for release.
“Shh. I am so sorry,” he whispered in her ear again. “Shh.”
He stroked her back with his hand, still holding her close. “It’s all my fault. You were right. I should have trusted you.” He kissed her temple. “Trusted us.”
Slowly, her body began to relax, and the tears subsided.
Her mind spun in a whirl. So was she just supposed to forgive and forget?
She lifted her head and wiped her eyes with a hand. “Thank you, Blake. I’ve waited a long time to hear those words.”
“You’re welcome.”
Her brows pinched together.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
She bit her lip so hard it stung. “I just . . . I just don’t know if I can forgive and forget so fast. I mean, it’s been eight years.” His back straightened. “I fought for you to see that Den was lying. I guess . . . I just need some time.”
He blinked and stared at her without saying a word. His arms released her.
“Do you understand?”
“Yes. Yes, of course. You need time.” He ran a hand over his brow and through his hair. “I’ll go now.” He paused. “And give you some time.” He nodded and gave her a small smile, then he spun around and left.
She stood in the darkness, the only light coming from inside her house. Despite the insane knot in her stomach, she knew she made the right decision. He couldn’t just waltz back into her life like nothing had happened.
Picking up her wine glass, she walked into her house and locked the door behind her. She was exhausted. She flipped off all but one light and headed to her bedroom.
Did he think these past years were easy on her? With time, she had started to forget—forget about Den, and forget about Blake and everything they’d shared. But she didn’t know if she had it in her to forgive. That was a tall order.
She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to come.