If the Sun Never Sets - Ana Huang Page 0,87

It was beyond embarrassing, considering she was still supposed to be angry with him, but seeing him outside, shivering and soaked to the bone, had cracked the ice around her heart. She’d imagined, just for a second, what it would be like to live in a world without Blake, and the thought was so devastating she couldn’t breathe.

For all his faults and misdeeds, Blake had always been her light, her rock, her center of gravity. Without him, the earth would surely fall off its axis and plummet into oblivion.

Another sob ripped through her before Farrah mustered the strength to shove him away and glare at him. “Don’t you ever do that again, you hear me?” She hiccupped. “I don’t know what you were trying to prove, but it was beyond stupid.”

“Okay.” Blake raised his hands in acquiescence. “I won’t. But I don’t regret doing it.”

He was impossible. “Blake—”

“No,” he said firmly. “Listen to me. You said actions matter more than words, and you were right. I screwed up by pushing you away in the past, by not trusting you when you trusted me, but that’s not me anymore. I’m done running.” He swallowed hard. “I know forgiveness might be too much to ask, but is there even the smallest chance you’d let me let you in? To show you I’ve changed, and that I’ll be here, no matter how hard the snow falls or how much shit goes sideways?”

The ache in Farrah’s chest grew. “I want to,” she whispered. “I really do. But every time I look at you, I remember that night in Shanghai and that night in your apartment. You shut me out and didn’t even give me a chance to be there for you. Twice. I can’t just forget. Not yet.”

The most painful part of loving someone was knowing you couldn’t live without them, but not being able to live with them, either.

Blake’s throat convulsed. He hung his head and nodded. “I understand. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

He looked so sad Farrah almost caved and threw herself into his arms again, but she forced herself to stand her ground—no matter how much doing so killed her inside.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Blake stayed the night on the couch since the snowstorm continued to rage outside and Farrah still worried about him getting sick. The downside was, she didn’t sleep a wink. Instead, she stared at the ceiling, fighting every impulse to curl up beside Blake and never let him go.

Yes, she loved him. So freakin’ much. But she hadn’t stopped hurting, and she wasn’t ready to give him another chance yet.

Farrah left for L.A. a few days later, hoping the holidays would prove a decent distraction. She spent most of it bingeing on Netflix and In-N-Out burgers and conducting ill-fated baking experiments. Farrah’s attempt to recreate Sammy’s signature egg tarts resulted in misshapen brown confections instead of crispy, flaky shells filled with golden custard. One bite confirmed the egg tarts tasted exactly like they looked. Farrah and her mom threw out the batch, picked up a dozen real egg tarts from the nearest Chinese bakery, and never spoke of the incident again.

Farrah also met her mom’s boyfriend.

Yes, boyfriend.

She’d nearly choked on a Hot Cheeto when Cheryl brought it up, looking as nervous as a teenager asking her parent if she could go on a date for the first time. So that was why her mom had been so weird when she’d asked Farrah if she was coming home for the holidays.

Cheryl shouldn’t have worried about Farrah’s reaction: Farrah was thrilled. She was an only child, and they didn’t have family in L.A. She’d worried about her mom being lonely, even with Cheryl’s dance association friends. Friend love wasn’t the same as romantic love, and Cheryl was far too young to live out the rest of her days alone. She deserved happiness, especially after her brutal divorce from Farrah’s dad.

Besides, Kevin, her mom’s boyfriend, seemed like a nice guy. He and Cheryl were old classmates who’d run into each other again at a ballroom dancing competition, and Farrah could tell he adored her mom. He was divorced with no kids, soft-spoken with a surprisingly sarcastic sense of humor, and he had a stable, if boring, job as a database administrator. As far as middle-aged boyfriends went, he could be a lot worse.

All of this would have been a distraction, had it not been for the letters.

Farrah didn’t know how Blake got her L.A. address, but she could guess, and she was