Better With Ben

by Casey McMillin

  "Thank you," she said.

  He smiled at her, but didn't say anything. He still had his hand on her shoulder, and when Taylor became aware that it's presence was still there, she experienced a pang of longing—one that had her wanting to do more than hug him. The feeling caused her to break the contact. He was offering her a comforting hug and she'd only embarrass herself if she tried to make something out of nothing. Besides, with her current status being of emotionally challenged, she couldn't trust her instincts.

  "Thank you," she said again, smiling. She turned around to leave the hallway, and was glad she had broken the contact when she did. Hannah rounded the corner, nearly bumping into Taylor. Taylor glanced back, but Ben was already on his way to the restroom. Hannah didn't seem to notice that they'd been in the hall together.

  "I was just coming to check on you," Hannah said. "You okay?"

  "Yeah, I'm good," Taylor said. She was good. Her heart felt strong—plenty of blood flow.

  Hannah turned around and walked back to the kitchen without saying anything about Ben. Taylor followed her, feeling somehow better for having experienced that hug. It was like medicine coursing through her body, and she smiled as she had the fleeting thought that if she had trouble, she'd call Ben for a hug instead of getting the prescription filled.

  "Call me if you need anything," Molly said, from across the living room. She was standing in such a way that Taylor knew they would be leaving when Ben got out of the restroom. She felt sad about that fact, wishing he'd stick around so she could snag one more hug.

  "Thanks for coming by," Taylor said, acting like she didn't care. "Your brother's truck is gonna have to take me somewhere sometime," she added. She wasn't sure why she said it. Maybe it was just because she was trying to fill the silence and maybe she really did want to get back in his truck sometime. Either way, she hadn't intended for Ben to hear, so she was surprised and a little embarrassed when he came up behind her. "Where you wanna go in my truck?" she heard him ask.

  She laughed awkwardly. "Oh, uh, no, Molly was saying you guys were taking off and I was, uh, just saying I liked your new truck."

  "Well I'm the one who drives it, so if you need it to take you somewhere, I'm gonna have to come too."

  Taylor wanted so badly to flirt but just couldn't make herself do it yet. She smiled and played off his comment. "I'm so glad you guys stopped by," she said. "And your truck is super nice."

  Molly reminded her to call if she needed anything, and they all exchanged hugs at the door. Quick hugs—nothing like the one in the hallway. When it was Ben's turn to hug Taylor at the door, she felt his arms tighten around her, but didn't let herself enjoy it, even for the slightest second. Being in his arms was just too good. If she allowed herself time to enjoy it, she'd never want to let him go.

  "Okay so, bye. I'll probably see you guys soon."

  "Yeah, we'll get together soon," Molly said.

  Taylor wanted to get out her calendar and set up the appointment right that second, but she knew that would come across as entirely too eager. Ben opened the door and stood aside for his sister to walk out. He gave Hannah and Taylor a curt nod and a grin as he walked out, closing the door behind him.

  "I should probably call Jason and let him know I'll be staying over here," Hannah said. She scooped ice cream into the blender for a fresh round of White Russians.

  "You think he'll mind?" Taylor asked.

  "Naa," Hannah said. "I already told him it was a possibility and I picked up a lunch shift tomorrow, so it works out for me to stay in Nashville."

  "You picked up my lunch shift," Taylor said. It was more of a statement than a question.

  "I didn't mind," Hannah said. "I was planning on picking up an extra shift or two this week anyway."

  Taylor gave her a thankful smile. She stared at the blender as it revved to life beneath Hannah's hands. She was glad for the noise because she was at a loss for words—not because of her conversation with Hannah, though.

  Her encounter with the big, tough warrior in the hall was all she could think about. She recalled the feeling of his big arms around her, melting inwardly at the memory of the relief she felt when he was wrapped around her.

  Chapter 8

  "Can you freaking believe that?" Molly asked Ben when they got into the truck.

  "What? That she found a dead body?"

  "Yessss," she said in a biting tone as if what she was talking about should've been totally obvious. "Poor girl. You think she's gonna be okay?"

  "What do you mean? Do I think someone's gonna try to hurt her?" Ben asked the question as if he was considering it for the first time, but quickly resolved. "No, nobody's gonna try to hurt her."

  "I was talking about her being okay in other ways," Molly said. "Hannah told me she had a really bad panic attack after it happened."

  Based on how Taylor was acting, Ben wasn't surprised to hear Molly say that. "Does she have your number?" he asked.

  Molly was quiet for a second while she considered if it was an appropriate time to joke with him. "I thought she'd have yours after whatever happened in the back room."

  He glanced sharply at her. She was smiling, but no doubt wanted the details. "Nothing happened. I just had to use the restroom."

  "Bullcrap."

  "Okay, if you have to know. I hugged her."

  "You hugged her?"

  "I hugged her."

  Molly was silent, and Ben knew whatever she was conjuring up was probably worse than what actually happened. "I just put my arms around her and I hugged her. I hugged the crap out of her. We didn't say anything. I just held her. If you want to know the truth, I felt like I didn't want to let her go. She felt so vulnerable in my arms that I just wanted to stand there and hold her forever." He didn't add that he wouldn't mind doing other things to her as well.

  "Dang, Ben, that was some hug."

  He smiled, but didn't take his eyes off the road. "It was some hug," he said.

  "Do you like her?" she asked. He'd been expecting the question, but still didn't know how he was going to answer it. He felt something for Taylor, but it was easy to pass the feelings off as general protectiveness and care for a fellow human being. He hated to see her so clearly scared and shaken, and he was just the type of guy who liked to help when he saw a need. "I like her as a person, and more than that, I don't like seeing anyone scared."

  "I thought she looked good," Molly said. "I think I'd be in much worse condition if the same thing happened to me." Molly was obviously tricked by Taylor's game face.

  "She was really scared," he said. "I could feel her pulse racing when I was holding her."

  "Don't you think that could have been from you?"

  "Damn, Molly, you're relentless. I told you I just hugged her to help her out—"

  "I'm not trying to say that," Molly said defensively. "I'm being serious. She was all rosy-cheeked and smiling when she came from her bedroom and I just assumed you'd been back there talking to her. You can't blame me for thinking you might have been what got her pulse rate up."

  "I think it was up before I ever went back there," he said. "Did you say she had your number?"

  "Yes, Ben, she has my number."

  "What'd they say about the truck?" he asked.

  "They said it's fishy that you can afford it and I told them you're a secret agent and couldn't tell them anything or you'd have to kill them."

  "Did you really?"

  Molly laughed. "Of course not. I did get the point across that you had a job you didn't talk much about."

  "Seriously?"

  "Yes seriously. You can't expect people to believe you can afford something like this working at All Seasons."

  Ben didn't say anymore about Taylor even though she was heavy on his mind. When they got home, he simply said goodnight to Molly and went into his room where he did a hundred pushups and sit-ups, a routine he did four or five times a week. Okay, so it was exactly five times, but Ben liked to pretend he was less rigid than he actuall
y was, so he thought of it as four or five.

  Ben couldn't hold the Taylor thoughts at bay. He found it impossible to go very long without thinking of some aspect of her. Her full lips, her dark blue eyes, her smell. He recalled what it felt like to hold her, and wanted to experience it again just to see if it was as nice as he remembered.

  Was it just that she was so vulnerable and he liked believing he could comfort her in some way? Was that why holding her felt so good—so natural? Did he get off on protecting her in her weakness? Probably. He told himself that was the case a dozen times that night. By the time he went to sleep he almost believed it.

  ****

  Taylor made it through the next week without having another full-blown panic attack. There was a close call or two every day, but she managed to talk herself down without puking or passing out, and because of that, she thought of it as a successful week.

  Not that it had been an easy week, because nothing could be further from the truth. During roughly fifty percent of her every waking minute, her thoughts drifted to the memory of the girl. Maybe it had gotten slightly better as the week passed, but her thoughts were still freaking consumed with the memory despite her efforts to forget.

  Detective James brought her in for questioning one more time during the week after the incident, but it was laid back because they had the killer and his full confession. One of her friends had mentioned that they thought he tried to kill himself, a fact that turned out to be true. The police offered her details about the case when she went in the second time, but Taylor declined, knowing she would only think about it more if she added pieces to the puzzle.

  She'd come really close to having a full-blown attack while she was at the police station, but she went to the restroom where she took a few minutes to talk herself down and splash water on her face.

  It had been just over a week since everything went down, and Taylor had managed to make it without having her prescriptions filled. She thought having made it a week meant she was out of the woods. It was about 6PM on a Monday evening when it started to rain, and by 6:30, it was dumping buckets. For the past week, Taylor had been making sure one of her roommates was home when she was there—especially at night. A couple of times, when she knew her roommates would be gone until after dark, she made arrangements to spend the night at a friend's house.

  She wasn't shy about admitting that she didn't want to be alone, and today was no different. The only reason she was home alone right then was because she knew Gina would be back at seven. She still had thirty minutes of being there alone, which wouldn't have been a huge deal if the rain hadn't started. The ominous grey clouds rolling in instantly reminded her of the misty day at the restaurant.

  Her limbs started tingling with the familiar unwanted feeling that they weren't getting enough blood. By the time the rain was coming down hard, Taylor was on the verge of feeling like she might go ahead and get her prescription filled. If there was a pill that would instantly calm her brain, why not take it? She stared at her car keys, one second feeling like she might get the prescription filled just in case, and the next second feeling like she might not even be physically capable of making it to the drug store.

  The sun was setting anyway, but the storm made it unusually dark, and in between waves of nausea and light-headedness, she went around the house, turning on every light. She was flat out scared and didn't know if she could stand another minute of being in the house alone. She had a great imagination, and it was definitely more of a curse than a blessing at the moment.

  She was scared of two things: the memory of the girl and of heart failure from not being able to talk herself out of the panic attack. Was it possible to give yourself heart failure by worrying about heart failure? Normally, she'd probably say no to that question, but right that second, Taylor was pretty sure she had the ability to stop her own heart.

  The bad part was—she was helpless to make it stop. She considered getting in the car, but couldn't imagine driving while she was on the verge of passing out. The thought of not being fit to drive sent a brand new wave of panic rushing through her.

  She laid flat on her stomach, pressing her face to the cold tile floor in the kitchen. The shock of the cold tile on her face was the only thing keeping her awake. Her body was in the middle of shutting down, but she fought it hard, telling herself over and over that it was all in her head as she teetered on the edge of consciousness.

  She stayed on the floor for about five minutes, fighting hellish waves of panic and praying that Gina wouldn't walk in and find her prostrate. She didn't feel like having to confront the obvious problem of needing to press your face to cold tile to stay conscious.

  Taylor made it through the attack without losing consciousness. She did breathing exercises for a few minutes, trying to concentrate on slowing her heart. She had cottonmouth—a symptom she knew to expect during an attack. She finally stood to get a glass of water, thinking she was glad she knew what symptoms to expect. That was the only thing keeping her grounded during the worst waves.

  She glanced at her phone as she sat on the couch. It was 7:08. Had she just been on the floor for over thirty minutes? What the hell?

  She typed in the pass code on her phone and stared at the screen. There was a text from Gina saying that she was just going to stay at school and study for a test since it was raining so hard. Taylor sighed and threw her head back onto the couch in frustration. She wasn't frustrated with Gina for not coming home—she was frustrated with herself for not being able to handle the thought of Gina not coming home.

  She could have called Hannah, Anne, Matt, Michael, Gina, or about ten other people who would have been willing to help her out if she needed it, but she didn't call any of them. The only person she thought could help was Molly's brother Ben. She remembered being wrapped in his arms, and amazingly, felt the panic subside at the mere thought.

  A week ago, she told herself she'd try a hug from Ben before she called in a prescription, and maybe it was the rainy day and the fact that she was alone, but she needed to do one or the other (or maybe even both). She figured she'd give Ben a call. She typed out a text to Molly since she didn’t have his number.

  Taylor: "Hey, I know this is random, but can I have your brother's number?"

  She knew she should have probably explained why she wanted it, but honestly, she was physically spent and didn't feel like offering details unless she had to.

  Molly text her back within seconds.

  Molly: "Nick and I are at the apartment, but Ben's not here. He's going out of town, but I'm not sure if he's gone yet. He can't really take calls when he's working, so don't worry if he doesn't call you back." Molly included Ben's cell phone number and an emoji of a smiley face.

  Taylor felt a sense of dread when she read the text, assuming the worst—that she'd try to get in touch with him and wouldn't be able to. He was probably out of town already. She was so let-down she almost forgot to send Molly a text back.

  Taylor: "Thanks. If you think he's working, I'll just wait till he gets back."

  Molly: "I'm not sure, but you could always try. Let me know if you can't get him and there's anything I can help you with. BTW, you doing okay?"

  Taylor laughed inwardly at the thought of pressing her face to the tile. Am I doing okay? Good one.

  Taylor: "I'm good, just had a question for him."

  Molly sent back another smiley face.

  Taylor saved Ben's phone number to her phone. She considered what she should write to him, but decided to call the number instead. It was likely that he wouldn't be able to respond anyway, so why not just jump in with both feet and place a good old-fashioned phone call? She pressed the numbers, and put the phone to her ear nervously. It rang a few times before she heard someone pick up.

  The person on the other end said, "Hello?" but she was so convinced that she'd get his machine that she didn't even realize she should respond. "Hello?" he asked again.

  Shit.

  It was him.r />
  "Hey, is this Ben?"

  "Yeah, who's this?"

  The sense of relief she felt knowing she had him on the line was unreal.

  "Taylor. Molly and Hannah's frie—"

  "I know who you are."

  "Oh, okay. I was just, uh—"

  "Are you okay?"

  His question made a wave of anxiousness hit her. Was she okay?

  "Yeah, I'm fine," she lied. "I just had a little favor to ask of you. Are you out of town?"

  "No."

  "Oh, because Molly said she thought you might be gone on a trip or something."

  "I'm leaving in the morning. What do you need?"

  His matter of fact tone intimidated Taylor. Suddenly, she regretted calling him. She knew there was no way to come out of the conversation without coming across as helpless or wounded. "I, uh, where are you right now?"

  "I'm on the road headed back to my apartment. Taylor, what's going on? Whatcha need?"

  "I was just wondering if you could stop by here for a second."

  To her relief, he didn't ask her why. He must have sensed the urgency in her voice.

  "Of course," he said. "I'm on my way. I think I can find it, but remind me the name of the road."

  "Vineridge."

  "That's right. I'll be there as soon as I can. It'll probably take me about fifteen minutes."

  "Thank you."

  He was silent for a few seconds. "Is everything okay?" he finally asked. "Are you safe?"

  "Yeah, totally," she said.

  "Okay," he said. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

  Chapter 9

  Taylor watched the screen of her phone go blank. What in the world came over her? Did she really just call Ben and ask him to drive to her house? What was she supposed to say when he got there, "Hi, uh, I was scared and wanted you to come hug me?"

  She stashed her phone in her back pocket and went to the bathroom to check her reflection. Thank God she made the effort. She was desperately disheveled from the whole tile-laying episode, and needed the assistance of a hairbrush, powder brush, and while she was at it, a toothbrush just for good measure.