by Lauren Helms
“I know,” he says softly.
“I knew something was wrong. But you wouldn’t talk to me. We were two thousand miles apart, and you wouldn’t talk to me, Ben. It broke my heart.” That’s when a tear breaks free. I angrily brush it off my cheek.
“Come here, Kel,” he says, holding out a hand to me. I shake my head. I can’t get close to him. He reads my stance well and doesn’t move toward me. “Please don’t cry.”
“I’m mad, Ben. And I’m fucking sad. I fell for you so quickly. Hell, it’s stupid how quick it was. I knew you’d break my heart. I’m just surprised it didn’t take long.”
Whipping away more stupid tears, I find his face again. His shoulders slump, arms hanging at his sides. His eyes are red-rimmed, his expression slack.
“I’m so, so sorry.” His voice breaks.
“What makes this even harder is that all I want in this moment is for you to hug me and tell me it’s going to be okay. But I know it would just be a lie.”
He stands at this, and with four long strides, he’s in front of me, wrapping me in a hug. Breathing him in, the warmth of him circling around me, I lose it, sobbing into his chest. He only pulls me closer. My arms snake around him, and I grip the back of his shirt as sobs rock through me. He kisses the top of my head, but he doesn’t tell me to quiet, he lets me have this moment of weakness. When the crying stops and I’m able to take deep breaths, he walks backward toward the bed. We sit, still embraced.
I hiccup, pushing away from him and wiping my eyes. He replaces my fingers, using his thumbs to dry my cheeks.
“I don’t want to break your heart anymore. I don’t want to make you cry or cause you any pain. Kelly, I’m so sorry,” he murmurs.
I don’t say anything, not trusting my heart for what words might come out.
“I should have done this from the start. I should have asked you what you wanted. Would we be able to continue on if I moved to New York? I even should have…” He doesn’t finish the sentence, his nose scrunching.
“Should have what?” I whimper.
“Nothing. It would have been selfish.” He’s mad at himself. I can see it in his face.
“Tell me,” I demand.
He searches my face before he speaks. “I should have asked if you’d move to New York. Not right away, but down the road.”
I’m stunned. “You were going to ask?”
“It crossed my mind several times, but every time it did, I was too scared it was going to scare you off. Our relationship was so new, asking you to move for me felt like too much, too soon. No one in their right mind would agree to move across the country for someone they’d just met.” His face turns pensive. “The thing is, it never felt new with you. It’s always felt like we’d known each other for a long, long time.”
“I know,” I croak. We’re both quiet for a while—his hands never leaving me while I try to calm myself from my emotional outburst. Occasionally, he wipes away a stray tear.
I decide to give him some honesty of my own. “When I visited you in Chicago, I was about ninety percent sure that if you asked, I’d move there just to be closer to you. Then you got that phone call and shut me out. I went home feeling like a fool for thinking you’d want me around all the time. That all I’d ever be is some part-time lover—a long-distance relationship to you.”
“Baby,” he mumbles, and this time, I don’t have the strength to yell at him as he pulls me into him.
“I kept telling myself that you’d never leave your beaches and sun for a city that saw its fair share of snow and cold.”
“Well, you should have asked,” is all I mutter.
“I should have done a lot of things. Here,” he says. He stands up and walks into the bathroom, then comes back with a wad of toilet paper that he hands to me. “You’re still leaking.”
I see a ghost of a smile play at his lips, and I can’t help it—I snort. Taking the tissues from him, I scoot further onto the bed.
“Thanks. I didn’t mean to lose it. But stress mixed with a lack of sleep is a recipe for disaster.”
He stays on the edge of the bed, careful to give me space, but not as much as before. I sop up my tears and blow my nose, not even caring how unladylike it is. But if I don’t, I’ll just keep sniffing up the remnants of my cryfest. He watches me while I do this. I ball up the toilet paper as I think about how I need to invest in a box of tissues.
“So. Where does this leave us, Kelly?” His hand lands on my knee.
I look at him and see that he’s not expecting good news. Unfortunately, I knew before I even stepped foot back in this apartment that there wouldn’t be good news tonight.
“I can’t do the long-distance thing,” I tell him softly.
He swallows. “I know. Me neither.”
“You live in Chicago. Your new job is in New York.” He opens his mouth, most likely to correct me on the fact that he hasn’t accepted the New York job yet, but I shake my head. “If your career takes you to New York or keeps you in Chicago, we can’t do this. There may be a chance down the road that I could move but, I’ll be honest, I love it here. And I can’t get to that point if I’m in a long-distance relationship.”
“You see no future for us, then.” His words almost break me, and with the way he nearly chokes on them, I know they’re breaking him, too.
All I can do is shake my head. He scoots in, his hand staying on my knee as his other snakes behind my neck. Leaning in, he presses his forehead to mine. My eyes flutter shut as I take in this moment.
“Fate set us up to fail,” he growls.
“Fate’s a bitch,” I reply.
“I’m sorry I wasted so much time, baby.” His broken voice cuts me deep.
“I’m sorry too, Ben.” He squeezes my neck. We sit there, head to head, eyes closed as we breathe each other in.
Then the tears start to fall again—slow, big, and more from a deep-rooted sadness than before. I wrap my arms around him and bury my head into his neck.
“Hey, no more of that,” he whispers. He hooks a finger under my chin, lifting me away from his shoulder. He looks down at me. “Can I kiss you one last time?”
I slam my eyes shut as I force away more tears, but I nod. His lips are warm as they touch mine. He brushes his lips over mine again, and then on the third pass, I give my heart one last chance to say goodbye. I pull him closer and kiss him back with every emotion I’ve got left in me.
He groans as his tongue slides between my lips, and they part, letting him in. We kiss like fools. Like there’s no tomorrow. I fight back a moan of sadness when I remember that for us, there isn’t. This is it. Our last time together.
He leans me back on the bed, stretching out over me. And I let him. I let him take what he wants, because I know it’s the last time I’ll be able to give it to him. My heart won’t be able to handle this in the morning.
We lay there on my bed, kissing, feeling, and doing our best to commit to memory every tiny detail about each other. Ben’s fingers dance along my body, tracing every dip, every curve. He goes on kissing me as if our lives depend on it. Because right now, they do.
I breathe in deep, doing my best to engrave his scent into my soul. For something to hold on to, anything, to cling to in his wake. My eyes lock with his, and like a slideshow, I recall every moment we’ve shared. I run my fingers over his face, trying like hell to remember the smile and frown lines. The curve of his nose and the grit of his five o’clock shadow under my hands.
Hours pass between us until we’ve somehow managed to make it under the covers, both still fully clothed. Want, need, boils between us but there’s also a silent understanding that taking this any further, making love for one final time, will destroy us both.
The last words spoken between us revolve around me asking him when he’ll be leaving. “I’ll leave in the morning. I’ll be gone before you wake,” he murmurs hoarsely, his voice heavy and thick with sorrow.
“Hmm,” I reply. The weight of it all, the sheer e
motional exhaustion, is creeping in. It pulls me under like the current of the ocean until I can’t fight it anymore. My eyes drift closed as Ben kisses my temple and pulls me in closer to him. His arms wrap around me while my head rests on his shoulder.
I can’t pinpoint the moment the room shifts, but at some point comes the whispered plea, “I love you,” before the distant sound of a door closing. I don’t know if it was all a dream—a door closing on something special, a metaphor for where my life is right now—or if it was Ben leaving early enough to avoid a tearful goodbye.
All I know is that when I wake, I’m alone in my bed, the pillow cold beside me. The clock on my nightstand reads ten in the morning, and Ben is most definitely gone. It all feels like a dream, where any minute I may wake up and find that he’s come back. That things are different and we’re still together. Instead, it’s a nightmare. A tragedy where both characters are left with a broken heart.
18
Ben
I never saw myself as a coward, but that’s what I fucking was this morning. I knew I wouldn’t be able to leave her if she were to look into my eyes. Tears brimming over her long lashes while she said goodbye would have broken my heart into a thousand little shards. I did this to her. I couldn’t blame her for not giving me another chance—I ruined us. I got in my head, shut her out, and tossed our future into the garbage.
So I took the cowardly way out. I left before she woke. Kissed her cheek, told her I loved her, and forced myself out of her bed. Sitting at the airport for nearly five hours was worth not having to say goodbye.
I didn’t bother changing this morning. My black tee smelled like her. Holding her all night, after hours of kissing, it was all the goodbye I could handle. Sitting in the airport, I drowned in the memories of our time together and did a fan-fucking-tastic job of keeping my emotions intact.
With such a crazy week, the fuckery that was yesterday, and a painful breakup—well, I was in a shit mood.
I arrived home a couple of hours ago, took a shower, and am now sprawled out on the couch when there’s a knock at the door. I groan because I really don’t want to deal with anyone right now. But the knock comes again, and I push myself up and open the door. There are only so many people it could be, so I don’t bother looking through the peephole.
Swinging the door open, I find it’s the one person I really don’t want to see, but I smile at her anyway. I motion for Bernie to come in, and I can tell as she takes me in that’s she’s reading my mood.
“You’re back,” she says as she passes me.
“Yup,” I grunt and push the door closed with more force than expected.
“You’re unhappy.” She bites her lip before perching on the arm of the recliner.
“You’re perceptive today,” I mutter, throwing myself back onto the couch. “Look, I’m exhausted. I want to chill out today. I’m not really in the mood to talk.”
I flip through the channels, hoping she’ll go away. I’m being an asshole, I know.
“I take it things with Kelly didn’t go well?”
I snort.
“Want to talk about it?” Her tone is soft.
“Still not in the mood to talk, Bern.”
“I spent some time with Kelly before she flew home. We talked a bit about what’s been going on, and she was pretty upset with you. Do you think maybe she just needs some time to work through it?”
“No.”
“Are you even gonna fight for her?” she asks. I actually look at her for the first time, and her eyes are wide with concern and sadness.
“Why do you care?” I ask.
She looks like I just slapped her as she jerks back. “I care because you’re my friend, and I really like Kelly.”
I grit my teeth. “She ended things and made it perfectly clear we’re through. There’s no fight left in either of us. So get over it.” She gasps, but I continue on. “It’s for the best. Time to move on,” I grumble.
It’s not actually for the best—not for me—but there isn’t anything I can do at this point. Kelly doesn’t deserve a weepy asshole trying to talk her into taking him back.
The shake of her head gets my attention. A nasty laugh falls from her mouth. “I swear, you boys are shit at relationships. The whole lot of you. You screw things up and then get all broody and shitty when you can’t sweet-talk your way out of things,” she says to herself, but I’m offended.
“Excuse me?” I growl as she stands. Good, she’s leaving.
“I love ya, Ben. But you’re an idiot. Maybe if you’d start being honest with the people in your life, you wouldn’t be so grouchy.”
“What do you mean? I’m honest.”
Sometimes.
“Right. Just do me a favor and figure out your shit. And do it soon. You lost a wonderful woman because you got lost in your head.”
“I know,” I bellow, shooting up into a sitting position.
My outburst doesn’t faze her; she just keeps going. “Don’t let it also cause you to lose friends and a career.”
I blink.
“Tell us the truth about moving on and get on with it already,” she spits. Then she stomps out the door and slams it behind her.
Fucking shit sticks. What just happened?
I got my ass chewed, that’s what. I spend the rest of the day pissed—at Bernie, at Gallant Gaming, at my team, at myself. But never at Kelly. Mostly myself.
That night, when I take a cold as fuck shower, I decide Bernie was right. At least, maybe I can get this right. So I call a meeting for the next morning.
I make it a point to get to the training room early. I’m sitting in one of the leather chairs when the team starts to arrive. Bernie hardly looks at me, Simon and Dex don’t act off at all, and Chuck doesn’t say a word. Not that he ever does.
“What’s up, Buttercup?” Simon laughs as he plops down at the end of the couch.
“I’ve got some stuff to talk to you guys about,” I tell him, then look at each of my teammates.
“All right,” Dex says cautiously.
“I’m taking a job with Gallant Games after the season ends. It’s a permanent gig, so this is it for me.” I swallow. Four pairs of eyes look back at me, not making a sound. I add, “I’m done. Gone. You’ll need to fill my spot.”
“Yeah, we got that,” Dex says slowly.
“Then why aren’t you saying anything?” I hesitate, thinking this was a bad idea.
“We’re just surprised you told us. We figured we’d be finding out the day you packed up and flew out.” Simon says.
“Seriously?” I mutter.
“You’re shit at being open about things, dude.” This comes from Chuck, and I slice my eyes to him. He’s my roommate and honestly, he’s never said anything like that to me before.
“What he said.” Simon points to Chuck as he drags his eyes back to his phone. Chuck doesn't hold eye contact long, so I look at Simon and Dex. They don’t look mad. I cut my gaze to Bernie, and her arms are crossed as she stares at her feet.
“I’m sorry for not telling you guys sooner,” I say.
“It’s not like we didn’t figure it out pretty fucking fast, man. Gallant flew you out. You were asking about what our plans were after gaming. We’re all pretty smart folks, Ben.” Simon is normally the broody one of the team, but I guess since he fell back in love with his childhood sweetheart, that role has switched to me.
I look to Bern again; she hasn’t spoken yet.
Dex speaks then. “It would be great if you could help us find your replacement.”
I nod. “Yeah, totally.”
“Bern, you got anything you want to say?” Simon asks her. Apparently, it hasn’t gone unnoticed with the others that she hasn’t said anything yet.
When she lifts her eyes, there are tears, but she doesn’t let them fall. Blinking several times, she says with a shaky breath, “I’m happy for you, Ben. And I want the best for all of you guys. I know this can’t last forever.”
Dex reaches ove
r and puts a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“Wow, Ben, consider yourself loved,” Simon says with a chuckle. “She wasn’t this broken up when Link left the team.”
I smirk. He’s not wrong. Link left a couple of years ago, Chuck was his replacement.
Bernie glares at him. “I wasn’t broken up about it because I knew he wasn’t going anywhere. Where Dex goes, Link goes. But Ben is leaving, leaving. And things are changing. Don’t deny it.”
Dex doesn’t ease his grip, and Simon hangs his head. We all know it’s true. I was just the first one to do something about it. I guess it’s my way of protecting myself. Seems like I have a habit of hurting others before they can hurt me. How’s that working out for you, Benny Boy?
We sit in quiet for a few moments before the door to the training room swings open. In comes Link, oblivious to what just went down. He gets halfway into the room before he notices us all sitting there staring at him.
“Whoa. Who died?” he mutters.
“No one. Ben is leaving the team,” Dex says coolly.
Link looks to me and with a grin, says, “Congrats, man. Gallant swoon you enough?”
Shit. Did they all know?
The question must show on my face because he chuckles. “We all knew it was coming. Plus, I talked to Ronnie at E3. They’re excited for you to join the team.” His face turns pensive. “Though, I never saw you for a community manager.”
I bite back a groan. “Yeah, me neither. But that’s what they’re offering for now.”
He studies me for a minute, leaning against the wall where it opens into the kitchen. “You know, there’s no reason to rush into anything. If you’re tired of these ugly mugs, except for that beauty in the chair,” he jerks his head toward Bernie, “you can still step away. Take time to find the right job.”
He isn’t wrong.
I lean back in my seat. “I know, but I need a change.” I’m crawling out of my skin, and I can’t risk these guys leaving me behind. I don’t want to be the last man standing.
