The Marshall Boy

Thirty-Five

Thirty-five.
Lucy.

I wake up to the smell of the ocean, and I smile tiredly. I nestle myself deeper in Blake's arms, and am greeted with a kiss to my temple.

"Morning, sleepyhead." His voice causes shivers to make their way down my spine, and I finally open my eyes. He has his laptop to his left, while I claim his right side.

"Morning," I mumble, as I wipe my makeup-less eyes. It was hard last night to use water and a towel to get all my makeup off; I'm also pretty sure that I ruined Blake's towel, but I'm pretty sure he didn't mind since it got me into bed and to stop sobbing. My heart aches as I remember last night, and I feel like I would cry again but I'm all out. Last night, I couldn't find my voice, so Blake is still in the dark about why I was here early, and why I was sobbing.

"How are you feeling?" He mutters quietly, knowing I have a headache. A person doesn't cry as much as I did, and not wake up with a god awful migraine.

"She kicked me out." I tell him, the ache piercing me as I speak. Blake's arm tightens around me, and he frowns.

"It's my fault." He says, and I shake my head.

"No." I state firmly, as I pull his face to mine so he can look into my eyes. "I made my choice, you tried to stop me."

"I don't even know why I tried, you're too stubborn." He sends me a small smile, and I'm surprised to find that my smile is genuine. He makes me feel like it's okay, even as the earth is blazing around us. "Your Dad is coming over in a bit to bring you some clothes."

"He told me he'd come over." I tell him, as I nestle back into his warm body and close my tired eyes.

"You want to sleep some more?" He asks, and I shake my head.

"No, I need to get up." I sigh softly, "Though it'd be easier to ignore the problems, and stay here with you."

"My problems are what caused your problems." He reminds me, the frown back on his face.

"No, problems follow me everywhere too." I argue.

"Maybe we're both secretly related to the Kennedy's?" This makes me laugh, which makes him smile.

"That would explain the curse." I muse, and he smiles as he kisses the side of my head.

"I'm sure I'll have to tell your Dad about Nate."

"How the hell did he get your credit card number?" I ask, and his jaw clenches.

"He might have done that while I was fixing your foot." He suggests, and I close my eyes. He would have time to do that. All he'd have to do was find whatever Blake kept it in, which I'm sure he knew of, then take a picture.

"He knew where you kept it?" I ask, and Blake nods once.

"I tried to get it changed, but they wouldn't let me because it was in police files." His jaw tenses again, and I rub my eyes as the doorbell rings.

"Are you going to tell my Dad that?" I ask, as Blake stands. It's only now I realize he's still in his pajamas. He tosses his pajama pants onto the desk chair, and I attempt to keep my eyes on his face instead of below. My Dad is outside, I need to stay focused.

"Yeah," Blake confirms as he slips into dark wash jeans, and throws on a snug tee shirt. He looks amazing, and I don't miss his slight smirk. "Have I told you I love seeing you in my clothes?"

I grin back, as he walks out to answer the door. I obviously brought nothing with me, so Blake gave me one of his old baseball shirts. It smells amazing, and I'm a little sad I have to change back into my clothes when Blake brings them to me. Blake, being the southern gentlemen he is, steps out into the living room while I change into my jeans, and UNC sweatshirt, which hurts even more because I'm reminded I was rejected, which reminds me of basically being disowned last night, so I frown as I look down at it. Dad, being a man, didn't think about the pain it would bring me, but I don't hold it against him.