#Chapter27
Blake's P.O.V
Why did you buy my brother a dog? WTF dude?
Ignoring the message, for as good an idea as it had seemed at the time, was only a short-term resolve. Like a stone in my pocket, the weight of the text had been with me all day, a sinking abyss that had been trying to pull me under.
And it had so very nearly succeeded.
The date with Oz, if I wanted to blow my own trumpet, had been a success; it had been as close to perfection as my imagination could stretch. Yet, it had almost been cancelled. Morals, the tricky little fuckers that they were, had whined at me, and my conscience had grown a voice and had been crooning doubts into my ear. After that text . . . damn, I had come so close to burying my head in the sand.
Hearts were tricky beasts, however, and mine had scoffed at the feeble attempts my mind had made to try and guilt me into submission.
