Ohio
As I hit the save button on my latest, Grave Dealings , and started to leave my chair, the little bell dinged, letting me know I had mail.
“Unless it’s Janet, I’m not answering.”
Janet was my agent. She thought my stories were marvelous, and she thought I was a scatterbrain. She was right on both counts. I loved Janet to bits.
But the email wasn’t from Janet. The name in the “From” column sent a blast of cold air down my spine. How can it be? Too shocked to click the email open, I just sat there, staring, transfixed by what must be my imagination.
Blake Steele. There had to be more than one of those in the world. I’d always thought the name sounded more like a hero in a book than a real man. Too unreal to be believable. As it turned out, he definitely wasn’t hero material. Just another guy stealing a girl’s innocence, then moving on.
“Click the little icon and open the damn thing,” I told myself. Then, with a sort of sick glee, another thought occurred. “It’s probably a virus. Wouldn’t that just be appropriate as hell?”
As the seconds ticked by, the room grew so quiet I could hear the purr of my cat Shelby across the room. Normally, I didn’t notice such things because I’m too engrossed in my writing. But I wasn’t writing. I was staring. Curiosity forced me to place my hand over the mouse and click. The email sprang open and I sucked in a breath as I realized it wasn’t a virus. It was also not some other Blake Steele, but the Blake Steele. The one who tore my heart to shreds and left me a whimpering mess. I began to read. Hey, I was an author. Curiosity ruled me.
Hi, Ally,
If you really are reading this then I’m shocked. I figured you’d toss it in your trash bin, maybe even pin my address to your block sender list. But, since you didn’t, I guess I’d better get to the point, huh?
I’m coming home. My business in New York is doing well and I’m coming back to Columbus to open a new branch. I didn’t know where you lived, so I called your mom in Florida (Dad gave me their number). Don’t be mad at her for giving me your email. I begged and pleaded. :) At any rate, I’m coming home for good. I’ll be staying at Mom and Dad’s until I find an apartment. I had hoped we could schedule a time to meet. Maybe catch up on old times. Is it too callous of me to ask? Probably. Fuck.
Anyway, if you want to reach me, my cell number is attached to my signature. Call me anytime, day or night.
Blake
Btw, I’ve missed you.
Much to my dismay, I could feel my eyes start to water. “Ten years later and he misses me? No freaking way!”
Now, all these years later, I knew why he’d looked so troubled. Because he knew something I didn’t. He knew he was taking my virginity and running. He’d known there would be no second time. No sweet words or promises of everlasting love. He’d known. I hadn’t.
I stared at Blake’s cell number for an eternity. Then, I dialed. Two rings and his deep voice came over the line. I was so shocked to hear him after so many years all I could do was sit there. He’d struck me speechless countless times. Why should this time be any different?
“If no one’s there, I’m hanging up,” he said, obviously getting frustrated at my silence.
“Blake,” I forced myself to utter.
“Ally? Ally, is that you?”
Oh, God. I hadn’t known how hard it would be to hear that voice. It all came rushing back like a bad dream. All the good times, the bad times, that horrible day when he’d walked out of my life. In a rush of clipped images, my relationship with him flooded my body and mind.
By force of will, I pulled myself together and answered, “Yes, it’s me.”
“Damn. I didn’t think you’d call. I didn’t really let myself believe you would even read my email.”
He sounded like he actually cared. I wouldn’t let myself be sucked in this time, though. “I’m glad your business is taking off. It sounds like you got everything
As I hit the save button on my latest, Grave Dealings , and started to leave my chair, the little bell dinged, letting me know I had mail.
“Unless it’s Janet, I’m not answering.”
Janet was my agent. She thought my stories were marvelous, and she thought I was a scatterbrain. She was right on both counts. I loved Janet to bits.
But the email wasn’t from Janet. The name in the “From” column sent a blast of cold air down my spine. How can it be? Too shocked to click the email open, I just sat there, staring, transfixed by what must be my imagination.
Blake Steele. There had to be more than one of those in the world. I’d always thought the name sounded more like a hero in a book than a real man. Too unreal to be believable. As it turned out, he definitely wasn’t hero material. Just another guy stealing a girl’s innocence, then moving on.
“Click the little icon and open the damn thing,” I told myself. Then, with a sort of sick glee, another thought occurred. “It’s probably a virus. Wouldn’t that just be appropriate as hell?”
As the seconds ticked by, the room grew so quiet I could hear the purr of my cat Shelby across the room. Normally, I didn’t notice such things because I’m too engrossed in my writing. But I wasn’t writing. I was staring. Curiosity forced me to place my hand over the mouse and click. The email sprang open and I sucked in a breath as I realized it wasn’t a virus. It was also not some other Blake Steele, but the Blake Steele. The one who tore my heart to shreds and left me a whimpering mess. I began to read. Hey, I was an author. Curiosity ruled me.
Hi, Ally,
If you really are reading this then I’m shocked. I figured you’d toss it in your trash bin, maybe even pin my address to your block sender list. But, since you didn’t, I guess I’d better get to the point, huh?
I’m coming home. My business in New York is doing well and I’m coming back to Columbus to open a new branch. I didn’t know where you lived, so I called your mom in Florida (Dad gave me their number). Don’t be mad at her for giving me your email. I begged and pleaded. :) At any rate, I’m coming home for good. I’ll be staying at Mom and Dad’s until I find an apartment. I had hoped we could schedule a time to meet. Maybe catch up on old times. Is it too callous of me to ask? Probably. Fuck.
Anyway, if you want to reach me, my cell number is attached to my signature. Call me anytime, day or night.
Blake
Btw, I’ve missed you.
Much to my dismay, I could feel my eyes start to water. “Ten years later and he misses me? No freaking way!”
Now, all these years later, I knew why he’d looked so troubled. Because he knew something I didn’t. He knew he was taking my virginity and running. He’d known there would be no second time. No sweet words or promises of everlasting love. He’d known. I hadn’t.
I stared at Blake’s cell number for an eternity. Then, I dialed. Two rings and his deep voice came over the line. I was so shocked to hear him after so many years all I could do was sit there. He’d struck me speechless countless times. Why should this time be any different?
“If no one’s there, I’m hanging up,” he said, obviously getting frustrated at my silence.
“Blake,” I forced myself to utter.
“Ally? Ally, is that you?”
Oh, God. I hadn’t known how hard it would be to hear that voice. It all came rushing back like a bad dream. All the good times, the bad times, that horrible day when he’d walked out of my life. In a rush of clipped images, my relationship with him flooded my body and mind.
By force of will, I pulled myself together and answered, “Yes, it’s me.”
“Damn. I didn’t think you’d call. I didn’t really let myself believe you would even read my email.”
He sounded like he actually cared. I wouldn’t let myself be sucked in this time, though. “I’m glad your business is taking off. It sounds like you got everything
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