Every Hidden Truth (Far From Ruined Book 2)

by Nikole Knight

  He barked an indecipherable curse as I stumbled into the wall to avoid the collision.

  “Holy hell!” I caught my footing and straightened.

  Dad stretched out his hand as if to aid me in finding my balance. “Whoa there, Son, where’s the fire?”

  Smoothing my shirt, I shrugged and sputtered. “Nothing! I mean, nowhere. I mean, what fire? I’m not in a rush. What?”

  His eyes narrowed, but as he studied my ensemble, the suspicion shifted to confusion. “Why are you awake so early? Are you... Are you going to church?”

  “What? Church?” I glanced down at my outfit in horror. Oh my God, I did look like I was going to church! “Is this a church outfit? Seriously? Dammit, Dad! Now I have to change.”

  Without awaiting a response, I charged back into my bedroom and shut the door firmly behind me. I stripped off the stupid sweater and rifled through the pile of discarded clothes on my bed until I found the green, long-sleeved shirt near the bottom. I donned it quickly as I checked the time on my phone.

  Ben would be here soon, and Dad was awake and downstairs. Shit!

  I cursed under my breath and rushed from the room as the doorbell rang. “I got it, Dad! I got it. I got it. I got it.”

  I practically tumbled down the stairs in my hurry, but I managed to catch my footing at the last moment so I wouldn’t break my neck.

  “Silas, would you slow down? You’re gonna kill yourself!” Standing in the doorway to the kitchen, Dad crossed his arms over his broad chest and scowled. “What in the blue blazes—?”

  “I’m going to breakfast!” My volume was too loud. I slipped on my shoes as I repeated myself at a more natural human decibel. “I’m going to breakfast. It’s no big deal. You know, just breakfast. Gotta eat, right?”

  I shrugged on my autumn bomber jacket since my winter coat lay forgotten and wet in my duffel bag in Mabel’s backseat.

  Dad’s dark brows reached into his graying chestnut hair incredulously. “Breakfast?”

  Backing away, I nodded. “Yeah, breakfast. Um, I’ll be back later. Don’t know when. Just later.” With my hand on the doorknob, I smiled through an embarrassed blush. “Good talk. We should do it more often. Bye, Dad!”

  “Sila—”

  I cut off his voice as I squeezed through the smallest crack in the front door and slammed it closed behind me. Spinning around, I yelped at Ben’s proximity, mere inches from my frazzled self. He smiled cautiously as he lowered his hand, poised mid-air as he prepared to knock.

  “Hey,” I greeted.

  He tucked his hands into his coat pockets as his lopsided grin widened. “Hi.”

  Mist billowed before my face as I released a shaky breath, my voice weak and pathetic. “Hey.”

  “You already said that.” Amusement lapped playfully in his ocean eyes.

  I forced my buzzing nerves to calm as the winter chill cooled my warm cheeks. “Oh, yeah. Right.”

  The curtain in my peripheral view wiggled, and panic seized me. I grabbed Ben’s arm and dragged him off the porch, ignoring his chuckles as I slipped on the slickly packed snow of my driveway.

  “Careful.” He caught me with an arm around my waist, and I grumbled inaudible insults as he snickered. “I’d rather you not die on me quite yet.”

  “Oh, but I’m allowed to die on you later? Good to know.” I batted away his grip and yanked the passenger door to his car open.

  Circling the nose of his Impala, he straightened the gray beanie on his head as loose curls escaped its confines. “How about no dying at all. Deal?”

  “Just get your ass in the car.”

  I slumped in my seat as I glared daggers at the covertly parted curtains of the front window. As I subtly hid my face behind my hand, I silently urged Ben to drive away quickly. My dad was as bad as my nice, yet nosy neighbor, Mrs. Kolkowski.

  Whether he heard my telepathic encouragement or not, Ben backed out of my driveway. I breathed a sigh of relief as my house disappeared into the distance behind us. He drove slower than usual over the snowy roads, and his usual calm behind the wheel gave way to wary vigilance.

  Right, he wasn’t used to driving in this weather. I should offer to drive next time to ease his obvious discomfort.

  “So, uh, good morning.” He glanced my way quickly before refocusing on the road. “You look nice.”

  My neck heated at the compliment, and I fought the overjoyed smile pulling at my mouth. “Oh, this old thing? Thanks.” We laughed as I waved superfluously over my thin jacket. I leaned forward to peek at his cream sweater under his unzipped coat. “You look nice, too.”

  “Oh, uh, thanks.”

  With pink cheeks, Ben navigated through the light morning traffic. My heart kicked into high gear as his hand snuck across the center console to tease the back of mine with his index finger.

  I accepted the unsaid offer, shifting my hand until our fingers twined, and tingles shot up my arm as our palms met.

  Damn, I thought this only happened in lame chick books. I was wrong. I settled into my seat as I directed Ben to my favorite breakfast place, our hands entangled between us the whole drive.

  Five

  When we arrived at The Golden Egg, the early morning regulars were starting to clear out and the church crowd had yet to arrive.

  After a short wait, a middle-aged woman with tired eyes led us to a two-person table, and I followed after Ben, enjoying the view of his ass in his loose, low-slung jeans.

  I hung my coat along the back of my chair before lowering onto the seat. Ben copied me, placing his bulky coat on his own chair before adjusting his beanie.

  Damn, he looked good in beanies. Granted, he looked good in almost anything, but the beanie was extra hot. I wanted to rip it from his head and eat his face off—in a non-zombie way, of course.

  “So, is this place any good?” He pulled me from my fantasy as he inspected the menu.

  I nodded, wiggling in excitement as I browsed the menu card. “Yeah, they have killer breakfast food.”

  “Good. I love breakfast food, especially pancakes.”

  The waitress arrived with a pot of steaming coffee. “Morning, boys. What can I get you to drink?”

  Ben flipped over his mug, and she poured his coffee without him needing to ask. “I’ll take a glass of water as well, please.”

  “Sure thing, hon.” She turned to me expectantly.

  I pointed flippantly at Ben. “I’ll just have water, too.”

  With a nod, she returned to the kitchen, and I perused the menu without actually seeing it. I knew what I wanted already. Ben’s presence and the nearness of his leg underneath the table distracted me. He shifted closer, his ankle pressing to mine, and I bit my lip to stop my giddy smile.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way,” Ben began, and I closed my menu to give him my full attention. “But what is up with the fixation on gravy?”

  Puzzled, I barked out a laugh. “What?”

  “Seriously, half this menu is breakfast food covered in gravy. Is that a Midwest thing?”

  He’d dropped his voice to a whisper to ensure no one overheard, and I cackled into my shoulder. “Um, I don’t know. Gravy’s delicious, so why not add it to your favorite breakfast?”

  “It just seems a bit excessive.” He shrugged as he took a sip of his coffee, and I feigned offense.

  “Well, sorry that we’re not all vegan hippies like you California weirdos. We like comfort food. I always get biscuits and gravy.” I fiddled with my silverware to give my fingers something to do as he held up his hands in surrender. “Plus, gravy is such a southern thing. It just so happens that us Hoosiers are redneck enough to jump on the bandwagon.”

  He backtracked quickly, worried he actually offended me. “I didn’t mean anything by it. It was just an observation.”

  “Uh-huh, sure.”

  The waitress appeared with our waters. “Are you ready to order?”

  When Ben nodded, she raised her pen in preparation as he ordered. “I’ll take
the double-chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream and a side of bacon and hash browns.”

  My eyes widened at the surprising order, but our haggard server didn’t bat an eyelash. “Sure thing. And for you?”

  I handed her my menu as I sent Ben an exaggerated eyebrow waggle. “I’ll take the half-and-half with extra gravy and a side of sausage.”

  “Links or patties?”

  “Links, naturally.” I winked, and Ben flushed to the tips of his ears.

  “I’ll get that in for you.”

  As the waitress left, Ben circled the lip of his coffee mug with his index finger as he frowned sternly. “Must you always be so crass?”

  I gasped with mock innocence as I raised my glass of water to my lips. “Crass? Moi? I have no idea what you’re referring to, Benjamin. I merely ordered sausage links.”

  “Right. I forgot you’re a sausage guy.” He smirked, and I snorted into my water, coughing profusely as half the liquid poured down my airway and tried to drown me.

  Blushing, Ben snickered into his hand as I hacked up a lung. I kicked him under the table, my eyes watering.

  “Smartass,” I squeaked through my coughs, and he rubbed his shin with a grimace.

  We quieted, acutely aware of the attention we’d garnered from the other patrons. I gulped at my water to ease my irritated throat. When I no longer wheezed, I set my mostly empty glass on the table and leaned across the surface.

  I kept my voice hushed. “You didn’t seem all that averse to sausage last night.”

  His eyes widened, scandalized.

  I inclined my head smugly. “Or was that a roll of quarters in your pocket?”

  “Can we not, right now? We’re in public.”

  Cackling, I rubbed my shoe suggestively against his calf. “Oh, I’m sorry. Does this embarrass you?”

  Quick as a whip, his hand snaked under the table and grabbed my knee, squeezing in warning. “Silas.”

  “Ben.”

  I shivered as his fingers slid up my leg, eyes locked as our wills battled. Even though his cheeks were candy-apple red, he didn’t back down, and my eyes widened as his hand traveled higher.

  Dangerously high.

  A sliver of apprehension curled in my gut as his thumb pressed to the inside of my thigh, inches from the front of my jeans, and my brain glitched.

  For the briefest moment, it wasn’t Ben’s hand anymore, and panic coursed through my veins. A cold sweat broke over the back of my neck as the echo-scent of musk tickled my mind.

  “No!” I snapped harsher than intended, and Ben straightened with a jerk as I shoved at his hand.

  Mortified at my irrational reaction, I raked a hand through my hair, tugging on the strands until my scalp prickled. The pain centered my chaotic thoughts, and I strained to cover my almost-freak out. I took a drink, but the cup shook in my grasp.

  As I abandoned the glass, Ben cautiously reached over the table. “Silas?”

  “People can see us.” I feigned a reprimanding glare as his brow furrowed. “You can’t just manhandle me.”

  Suspicion swirled in his calculating gaze, but I refused to admit the fear lapping at my brain stem. I wasn’t in that bathroom. Boyt wasn’t here.

  I was fine; everything was fine.

  “I’m sorry, I thought…” He drifted off as his fingers stopped centimeters from mine on the tabletop. “I didn’t mean to—”

  “It’s fine. You’re fine. I mean, technically, you’re more than fine. You’re hella fine.” I was rambling again, but my embarrassment was worth it as his lips quirked. “It’s not that I’m not down with P.D.A., but let’s not feel Silas up in public. ’Cause then I’ll be the one with a roll of quarters in my pocket.”

  As the back of my neck warmed, Ben snickered, and his middle finger teased the tip of mine. “Well, we wouldn’t want that, now, would we?”

  Taking a chance, I blanketed his hand with mine, and my stomach somersaulted when our fingers twined snugly. My anxiety settled at the reassuring touch. I relaxed into my seat with a goofy grin on my face.

  I was already a goner, wasn’t I?

  I didn’t do emotion. Feelings were complicated and messy and, more often than not, painful. But I couldn’t stop this. He was a flood, rushing into my life and laying waste to the disorder that already existed. Yet, I didn’t fear the pandemonium. He grounded me, brought a certain order to the chaos.

  There was something about him that called to me, that resonated deep in my gut with terrifying familiarity. We couldn’t be more different, yet we shared matching scars. We were two scared, little boys searching for something to hold on to, and somehow, we’d found each other.

  We were broken, but we weren’t ruined. Maybe, just maybe, his jagged edges fit perfectly with mine. Our picture wasn’t perfect; it was warped and cracked, but Ben was right. There was a certain beauty to brokenness.

  The heady moment shattered as the waitress appeared with a full tray of steaming food. Our hands parted, and I instantly missed the warmth. I was such a sucker.

  “Enjoy,” she said as she placed the last plate—my sausage links—onto the table.

  I grimaced at his plate of diabetes. Noticing the expression, Ben stabbed a bite of his chocolate pancakes, dipped it in whipped cream, then offered me his fork. “You wanna bite?”

  “No.”

  He rolled his eyes, pushing the saccharine excess toward my lips. “Don’t knock it till you try it.”

  Accepting the bite with a growl, I chewed the sugar bomb and shuddered. Sure, I had a proclivity for blue moon shakes, but this was sickeningly sweet.

  “Oh my God, I don’t know how you’re eating that.” I took a drink of my refilled water before shoving an entire sausage link in my mouth to replace the sweet with savory. “It’s way too early to be eating cavities for breakfast.”

  “But it’s so good!” He groaned obnoxiously around his bite, and I laughed as I dug into my hash browns swimming in thick, delicious gravy.

  “How can you possibly look like that”—I waved my hand at his fit self—“after eating that shit?”

  As he swallowed, he flipped me the bird. “I’m a growing boy; sue me. And I really like pancakes.”

  “Yeah, so do I, but that’s on a completely different level.”

  “I guess I have a weakness for some things.” His foot pressed to mine under the table as he focused on his plate, his ears burning.

  I had a feeling we weren’t talking about pancakes anymore. My inner self did a triumphant dance inside my head. “Good to know you’re not infallible.”

  We ate in silence for a few minutes, and I watched in humor as he ate just as methodically here as he did at the drive-in—a forkful of pancake, a bit of bacon then hash browns, and a swig of coffee.

  After the waitress refilled our drinks, I nursed my water, having finished my food first, while Ben polished off his plate.

  The ends of his hair curled nicely around his ears and the back of his neck. I wasn’t a fan of the shaggy look on most guys, but the thought of him trimming the curls made me sad.

  His sweater stretched across his shoulders snugly, hinting at the broad muscles he would continue to grow into. He was in that in-between stage—we both were—no longer boys but not quite men. But he’d make one hell of a man with his trim waist and firm, sturdy form.

  I couldn’t wait to experience what he felt like against me, his weight pressing me into the mattress, his arms clutching my back as I moved above him.

  Granted, I wasn’t sure what he’d be into, but I was happy with either option. Being versatile helped when it came to logistics.

  “Earth to Silas.” Ben snapped his fingers in front of my face, and I blinked away my overeager imagination, my cheeks heating.

  “Sorry, what?” Retrieving my water, I took a large gulp to cool my hormones.

  A smirk played at the corners of his mouth. “You were staring.”

  I blushed hotter, the sensation foreign. I never used to blush before Ben ca
me along, and now I was a tongue-tied, red-faced mess. It didn’t help that he was completely gorgeous, and my mind easily wandered when faced with his dimple and intense eyes.

  “Are you okay?” There was no missing the humor playing along his lips, and I rolled my eyes but nodded.

  “Yes, I’m fine.” I was here with him; I was more than okay.

  Reaching across the table, he captured my hand and grinned, his cheeks pinking. “Good, because I have something important to ask you, and I want to make sure you’re firing on all cylinders.”

  “You’re not on a good track for the right answer,” I warned even as my stomach flip-flopped with nerves.

  His brows lifted as he pulled his hand away and crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, if you’re gonna be whiny, then I guess I won’t ask.”

  I scowled, mirroring his arm-cross before shrugging. “Fine, whatever. Doesn’t matter to me.”

  “Oh, it doesn’t matter, huh?” He knocked my foot under the table, but I pointedly looked away, wanting to win this false fight.

  I scrutinized my cuticles as he nudged my leg again, grunting when I refused to acknowledge him.

  “Fine. Be my boyfriend, or not, makes no difference to me.”

  In contrast to his drawn expression, his eyes splashed with entertainment, and I did my best to remain emotionless as I replied. “Well, good, ’cause it’s not happening.”

  “Too bad. I guess I’ll have to ask Alice out.”

  Even the sound of her name leaving his mouth pissed me off, and I glowered.

  Alice had been a pain in my ass ever since she rigged my locker to explode with glitter in my sophomore year of high school. And now she had her eyes on Ben. Given Ben’s way-too-nice personality, letting her down easy hadn’t exactly gone as planned. After she’d successfully kissed him at her Thanksgiving weekend party, she’d gotten it in her head that they were an item and practically stalked him around school.

  God, I hated Alice.

  “Yeah, right,” I sneered as Ben arched a golden eyebrow. “You’re way too scared of her.”