by Katie Cross
“Time to go,” he growled.
With one last sneer at me, she turned and skulked away, disappearing around the back of the building. I drew in a deep breath, pivoted on my heel, and stepped into the back. Dagny stood at my side, a hand on my arm, as I cooled down in the aftermath of the visit.
“That w-was intense,” Dagny said. “You did g-good.”
“She . . . infuriates me and inspires pity all at the same time. I don't know whether I want to hug her or slap her.”
“B-b-both, I bet.”
My blood still streamed through my body with shock and tremors when, minutes later, Jayson stepped through the swinging doors and right into the back. His gaze swung over to us almost immediately. Next to me, Dagny stiffened. Her gaze darted away.
“Hey Sera, is Amber gone already?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I nodded. “Sorry, she didn't stay long. She headed toward the back, around the right of the Diner.”
He sighed. “Not your fault. I tried to get here as soon as I could.”
Dagny's hand shrank away from mine as she stepped away and put her back to us, busying herself with ice and a cup, even though no new customers had come into the Diner. I pulled in a deep, calming breath.
“Let me know if you see her again?” Jayson asked as he edged backward. “I'm going to go drive around and see if I can find her.”
“I will.”
He disappeared through the doors, and Dagny relaxed. I eyed her, suspicious of the way she stared out the swinging doors with a sigh on the edge of her lips.
“Hernandez?” I asked her.
She opened her mouth to protest, then grimaced. “Th-that obvious?”
“Not to him.”
“N-n-never to him. He has no idea that I exist.”
“You serve him all the time. He knows you exist.”
Her gaze tapered. “W-well, yes. He sees that I'm h-h-here, but I have a knac-ck for f-f-fading into the background.” She smiled broadly. “It's the way I like it. W-w-with him . . . it's even b-better.”
“Better that he doesn't know you crush hard?” I guessed, grateful to escape the thought of Amber for a while. Dagny grinned, but it was woeful.
“Yes.” She shuddered. “I hope he n-n-never knows that. We're f-friends. I'd like it to s-stay that way.”
25
Benjamin
I stared hard at Serafina's text message. Vomiting my brains out for hours made everything fuzzy, but the world was more clear now than it had been last time I was conscious.
Serafina: Ava is off to school just fine. Are you feeling any better today? You looked pretty wrecked yesterday.
Serafina had been here?
I rubbed my eyes with the heel of my hand and stumbled into the house. Vague memories of waking up to the sound of bustling, a woman's quiet voice, and Ava's high-pitched response, filtered through my mind. That had been Bethany, right? She'd planned on stopping back by after some showings.
Everything was clean, organized, and smelled faintly like bleach. I grabbed the note on the counter that I'd read last night before I attempted soup at 2:00 am. My assumption was that it had been from Bethany.
Apparently not.
I texted Sera back.
Benjamin: Much better. Thanks. Were you here yesterday?
* * *
Serafina: Yes. I came over after work and stayed until Ava fell asleep.
* * *
Benjamin: I'm sorry, I didn't know. Thought it was Bethany.
* * *
Serafina: You were pretty out of it.
* * *
Benjamin: Thank you for your help.
My eyes sprinted all over the house again. Maybe it was the weak feeling in my body. Maybe it was just the circumstances around me. Maybe it was the clarity of so much sleep, but I felt a welling of dread in my stomach.
Sick or not, I couldn't put off talking to Serafina anymore. We had to figure this out.
Benjamin: Can you come over later and talk?
* * *
Serafina: I'd like that.
An hour, one very long shower, fresh clothes, and a change of sheets later, I felt exhausted, but restored. After checking in with the MMA Center—which ran surprisingly smooth without me there to coordinate—and answering a few emails, I lay back on my couch and stared at the ceiling.
So many thoughts streamed through my head, the greatest of which was the most obvious: I am not good for Serafina.
The scales were balanced way out of her favor. First, she took care of us, just like yesterday. I never really got a chance to take care of her. Second, I'd kissed her like a dying man, but hadn't even taken her on a real date. She received the dredges of my time and attention, meanwhile poured her time and attention into me. When she didn't have to, she cared for both of us. The list of what she did for me extended into eternity when I considered that she cleaned my house, made me food, and cared for my daughter.
Just like I had with Sadie. Given my all, my everything, and to what?
Dredges.
Even after I'd been a cold and distant jerk that kissed her like he meant it, then didn't even text.
And what did I give to her?
Aside from a paycheck, which she hadn't even cashed yet, nothing. Clarity rose in my mind despite the haze of feeling sick. Wasn't I already just like Sadie? Sucking time and attention and not giving back? Ava was my first priority, which meant Serafina had to come second. Even third. Sadie had always been Sadie's first priority, and I had come in the dredges of her time after everything else. She kept me close enough to control, satisfied enough that I didn't rock the boat. Never the priority.
I couldn't do that to Sera.
My fists clenched. The knot of tension unfolded in my chest like cords of fire. It still burned, but now I knew what it was. We had to figure this out. I cared for Sera, probably even loved her, though I wasn't really sure what that looked like. Whatever this desire to protect and hold her meant, it was more than I'd ever felt for anyone before.
But how could my world ever be fair to her?
A timid knock came on the front door later that afternoon. Bethany had picked Ava up from the bus stop and taken her home while I disappeared into a second nap. It restored a bit more humanity to my life, and another bowl of soup sank into my belly and stayed there. When I opened the door, I wasn't sure what to expect.
Serafina stood on the porch with a crock of food in her hand. The sweet gesture knifed through me. Of course, she brought even more comfort and nourishment into my life. A car pulled away from the driveway, but I couldn't see who waited inside. Dagny had dropped her off, likely.
“This is kind of hot,” she said, her gaze hidden behind aviators and her usual bouncing hair. “Can I go set it down?”
Too late, I realized I'd been awkwardly standing there, holding the door open. I startled and stepped back with a wave of my arm.
“Of course. Sorry.”
An awkward tension followed us inside the house as I closed the door and she slipped into the kitchen. The warm smell of beef, potatoes, and fresh bread followed. My mouth watered. Had she brought homemade bread and beef stew? I sincerely hoped so, even while it frustrated me.
Why did she have to be so good?
Part of me hoped that she'd realized just how much she did in this situation. How little she gave received for what she gave. I wanted her to stand up for herself, the way that I never did to Sadie.
Instead of telling her all that, I followed her into the kitchen like a lost puppy.
Her flip flops slipped their way over the floor and her hair bounced behind her as she walked. The smell of coffee followed gently in her wake, as if the coffee shop permeated her life so deeply.
“It's beef stew,” she said. Her voice had a higher pitch to it, like she was holding something back. She puttered her way around my kitchen expertly, probably because she'd organized most of it, and all without looking my way once. “There are some homemade rolls and I wasn't sure if you had
butter so I—”
I trapped her wrist with my hand, stopping her. She paused but didn't look at me. Even without the full power of her eyes, I could see exhaustion in her. Fatigue drove the slow blinks of her eyes. The weariness in her low shoulders.
“Sera, we need to talk.”
A thousand other words wanted to rush out of my mouth right then. Stay with me. Marry me. Be mine forever. No, I couldn't go down that path. I may have been a selfish bastard in the past, but I wouldn't be now. Not for Sera, because Sera mattered. I would not become Sadie to her. Suck the soul and life out of her, then leave her a bitter, hollow shell.
Something in her slumped shoulders told me things weren't good. Did she already know that something was wrong? I hadn't exactly been communicating, but I'd also wanted to die from vomiting my bowels out. I released her when her skin burned against mine.
She bit her bottom lip and said, “Sure.”
Suddenly, I felt like I had too many hands and didn't know what to do with them. With a helpless gesture, I motioned to the couch. “Let's talk in here. I just had some of the other soup so I'll save this for later. Thank you again.”
The formal tension between us could have thickened the air until I couldn't breathe. I pointedly ignored it and led the way. She shuffled behind, but her footsteps were uncertain. When I sat on the couch and angled toward her, forearms on my knees, she followed. Her aviators came off and tucked her hair around her face, revealing uncertain eyes.
I swallowed. All my planned words had suddenly fled and what came out was the result of pure fear.
“I don't think I'm good for you.”
Her brow crinkled. While I tried to gather air back into my lungs to explain, her mouth dropped open.
“What?” she croaked.
Agitated already, I rubbed the back of my neck and leapt to my feet. She stayed on the couch, appearing small, her head tilted back to watch me pace.
“You do so much for us, Sera, and I don't really give you anything in return. I'm afraid that if we let things go any farther, you're just going to hate me in the end.”
Saying the words felt like a cascade of relief. At the same time, my world seemed to have paused. Several moments passed again before she was able to pull words together. When she responded, it was a whisper.
“I could never hate you, Ben.”
I scoffed. “You can, I promise. Sadie did, even though things were so good in the beginning. It seemed like the issues that destroyed most relationships could never touch us. But everything changed. We're not even, Serafina. You are beyond me. I . . . have Ava.” My voice dropped. “I could never bring to this relationship the same things you do. Could never be as present for you as you are for me.”
I ran a hand through my hair. This didn't feel as good or as right coming out as I wanted it to. The expected relief didn't follow again. Venting it was one thing. Living it was another thing entirely.
Why didn't she say anything?
She blinked several times. “Ben, I . . .” She stood, and I stopped pacing. We stood three feet apart, but the heat from her gaze still slammed into me. She tilted her chin up slightly, her shoulders squared. Despite her defiant posture, her tone was gentle.
“Ben, I love you.”
My soul shattered in a million pieces. No, I wanted to say. I can't be too late. How could you love someone so broken?
Like a sucker punch to the ribs, I sucked in a sharp breath.
She couldn't love me.
How could she love me?
“Exactly as you are, right now,” she continued, brave despite what must have looked like fright on my face. “You give me you and that's all I want. You are enough, Benjamin Mercedey. For me. For Ava.”
“You say that now, but what if that's not enough later?” I whispered. “When things are even harder. When we're deeper into this and our true colors come out and things aren't as exciting?”
A wounded look came to her face. I stepped forward, nearly toppled by the lightest scent of coconut shampoo as it slammed into me.
“Serafina, I haven't even taken you on a date. I've kissed you without even dating you.” I swallowed hard. “There are things I want to do to you that . . .”
My fists clenched with a blaze of heat, and it took all my considerable control not to bound across the space and grab her. I wanted to lock her into my arms and never come back up for air.
Her eyes were so wide the edges were ringed in white.
“I don't know if I can earn the right to have you,” I continued mercilessly. Because she had to know. “Two days ago, I wanted to help you after you sent me that text. Wanted to call you and find you and see if everything was okay. But Ava called right after. She was sick and needed me to pick her up from school. I couldn't be there for you. Not the way you're always here for us. This is what happened with Sadie. It was perfect in the beginning, but it changed. It devolved. Eventually, she became a monster that took, and took, and took. She would have owned my soul if I let her. Maybe she even did. I can't . . . I can't be that to you.”
Her hand twitched at her side, but stayed there. For a long, long time, something swelled between us. I couldn't read her gaze. She appeared exhausted. There were bags under her eyes, and I realized that I didn't know what had been happening for her the last couple of days.
Perhaps this was more selfish than I'd thought.
Finally, she asked, “What do you propose, Ben? Is this you breaking—” Her brow furrowed into deeper confusion. “What does this mean?”
“I don't know.”
Her nostrils flared. “You can have it or you can't, Ben,” she said furiously. “You brought this up. You have decided for me that I won't benefit from an arrangement that previously made me very happy. You tell me what you want now.”
The feeling of being a selfish jerk that I'd been trying to avoid all this time started to creep up. Had I completely misinterpreted all of this? How could she possibly find joy in a relationship that didn't offer something back?
I just didn't want to be Sadie.
Didn't want to destroy Sera the way Sadie destroyed me. Until I was in a position to do more for Sera, how could this ever be fair?
“I want you to be happy and safe,” I finally said. “That's all I will ever want for you.”
She sucked in a sharp breath and moved back a step. “No,” she whispered, and moved back another. “That's a damn lie, Benjamin Mercedy. A lie you're telling yourself to feel better. You don't want that more than something else, because I was happy and safe. You made me feel safe. Being with you and Ava brought me joy. I understand that you're trying, in some convoluted way, to do what seems right in your head. But you're missing the point.” She pressed a trembling hand to her chest. “I'm. Not. Sadie.”
“I never thought you were,” I said quickly. “You could never be Sadie. You're too good Sera. I am the Sadie in this situation.”
She softened slightly. “But you aren't either,” she added quietly. Her head tilted to the side with a sorrow that stunned me. “You're afraid, Ben. That's what's wrong here. This isn't about me—not really. This is about Sadie and her hold on you. Until you let her go, you're right. We aren't ready for each other. You can't give enough to me, Ben, simply because you don't even have enough for yourself. Sadie still does. You can't even let yourself see what a good dad you are. It's like she's still whispering in your ears, or something.”
“Sera . . .”
But my response died. I didn't know what to say. Her jaw tightened when her gaze dropped to the ground. Another silence followed, as if she debated something, before she finally pulled in a deep breath. Her shoulders set. The abyss of fatigue in her expression made me want to reach for her, but I held back.
“I wasn't going to tell you,” she said, “because you have a lot going on right now, but you should know that Talmage overdosed two days ago.”
My jaw dropped. “What?”
“Jayson took me to Talmage's house on my lunch break yester
day and we found him. He's fine,” she added, “for now. My mom signed him out of jail and he's agreed to try a rehab place back at home. They're already gone.”
“Sera, I'm so sorry.”
Tears glittered in her eyes. “I had planned to stay in Pineville because of you and Ava. Because I love you both. But if being apart is really what you want, I won't stay. So if this is the path you want, I need you to be sure. Once I leave, I won't be coming back.”
A tear dripped down her cheek. Words failed me. With one last haunted gaze, she turned and walked out the front door. It closed quietly behind her, the snick of the lock like a bomb in the night.
I slowly lowered to the couch and hung my head in my hands.
26
Serafina
The quiet shuffle of the coffee shop below settled around me as I cried. Hot tears broke through my fingers and dropped onto my pillow. Not for the first time, I wished Mom back already. Wanted her to play with my hair the way Ben had only a few days ago. Reassure me that every darkness would eventually fade.
Now, I just felt stupid.
Crushed. Blind. Confused. Livid. The emotions knotted up in a giant tangle deep in my chest until I didn't know one from the other. In some more perverse ways, this ending came as a relief. A relief that whatever gorgeous thing Benjamin and I could have had ended, because I supposed I'd always thought it would. All of them did, eventually, because none of them ever inspired me to stay. Leaving had been easy after the initial drama of pain.
Yet . . . none had felt like this.
The others had the depth of onion skin compared to my time with Ben. Of all the boyfriends in all the countries and all the circumstances that I'd experienced, none of them saw me with the same intensity. None of them stoked a fire in my stomach just when they looked my way.
