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pulled into the drive and parked the truck. Unsure if she would invite him in, he stayed where he was.
                  “I’d invite you in but—”
                  “Blake! Oh, Blake, come on in. It’s good to see you again,” Brianne called from the porch.
                  Blake leaned over and opened Erika’s door. He smirked, knowing she wasn’t happy at all about her mom inviting him. “Looks like the invite’s already been extended.”
                  The closeness had her blood pumping, and the slight touch as his arm brushed against hers had her skin tingling. “Looks like.” Her voice was just a little too breathy. She got out of the truck and headed toward the house, Blake behind her.
                  “Hello, Mrs. Gibbons.” He greeted her mother with a small, warm smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
                  “How are you? How’s your mom and dad?”
                  “They’re doing good.”
                  “Good, good. Did your mom enjoy the pie?”
                  “I think my mom would say I enjoyed it more.” He patted his stomach and Mrs. Gibbons laughed.
                  “Where’s your Jeep?” Brianne frowned and turned to her daughter.
                  “It’s…It overheated. Blake was going to help me get it back to the shop. I just needed to drop these papers off for work.” She patted her bag and cruised around the truth.
                  “You should let Blake look at it. Now come on in.” Brianne gestured with her hand, expecting them to follow.

Eight
    ***
    Blake surveyed the small living room. Cozy. An old couch sat against the front wall just under the picture window. An arm chair sat in the corner that looked like it hadn’t been used in some time. An old TV sat in the back of the room straight out of the 1980’s, dial knob and all. Books upon books filled one wall. Other walls held photographs. A small hallway led to the kitchen, probably, and maybe a dining room. A small staircase to the right led to the second level of the small house.
                  “Let me get you something to drink,” Brianne said. She headed to the kitchen without a glance back.
                  “I guess I should go change,” Erika said. “I’ll be right back. Make yourself comfortable.” She took her time heading upstairs trying to give him the impression that she wasn’t in any rush to have dinner with him, but decided to change quickly so that Blake didn’t have much time to get familiar with her family.
                  Blake walked to the wall of books first. There were novels and classics mixed in with no sense of order. William Shakespeare, Michael Crichton, Edgar Allen Poe, Danielle Steele, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle mixed with dictionaries, encyclopedias, and thesauruses. Some shelves held trinkets and bric-a-bracs. The triangle of white stars on a blue field stared back at Blake as his eyes found the wooden case. It was the same as the one in his house. Blake fought back visions of his brother and reminded himself that he was in someone else’s home.
                  Moving around the room, he fixed his eyes on the family photographs. A picture of Erika as a baby swaddled in the hospital blanket was the first photo to catch his eyes. Another of a young Erika as a toddler playing with the pots and pans in the kitchen. There were even photos of her as a teenager, and a graduation photo he supposed was from college. A family photo, that looked as if was taken only a few years ago, held his gaze. He had met her mother, but he didn’t need to wonder where her father was as the crisp dress blues uniform gave it away.
                  “Here you are, Blake.” Brianne set glasses and a pitcher of sweet tea on the small coffee table behind him. “Oh, that was the day Erika went