“It is complicated.” Damn, that sounded lame even to his own ears.
“Matters of the heart usually are.”
Not for Ben. Or, not for Ben when it came to other people’s hearts, but here he was fumbling around cluelessly like everyone else. He didn’t like the experience at all.
“You’re sure about this?” he asked.
“Positive. It’s so obvious three other men have picked up on it, remember?”
Right. And yet Ben had not, which admittedly made a lot of sense if Isaiah thought it was obvious they weren’t a match.
“I don’t know what to do,” he said.
He thought of his parents. They never got into screaming fights. Such behavior was beneath them, but just about everything else was fair in their minds. During the divorce, Mom would deliberately neglect to inform Dad when his soccer game was, then act the part of good parent and console him for his father’s failure to show up. His father, in return, told him about Mom’s emotional affair with the neighbor, which both made him angry at his mother for something he didn’t understand, and spawned another round of retribution from her to spite his father. Ben was eight.
Basically, a large part of his childhood was a clusterfuck because his parents hated each other so much. When he started to develop his gift at age fourteen, he immediately understood it as a way to ensure there were fewer warring exes in the world and therefore fewer kids would have to stand in his shoes.
Pop had always known Mom and Dad weren’t a match, and Dad didn’t let this information prevent the marriage. Then again, Dad hadn’t inherited the gift himself, so maybe he didn’t understand how obvious it was when two people were perfect for each other. It hardly mattered. The end result, for Ben, was growing up in the crucible of his parents’ hatred for each other.
Whatever it took, he wasn’t going to repeat their mistakes. Least of all with Isaiah who was so … everything. He meant everything, even if Ben had deftly avoided acknowledging that truth until now.
“Do right by Isaiah,” said Marlene, snapping him back to the here and now.
“If I knew what the right thing was, we’d be having a very different conversation.”
“You’re one of those people who struggles with uncertainty more than average, aren’t you?”
In a word, yes. In more words, he was surrounded by absolute assurance but couldn’t find any of it for himself, so he didn’t think anyone could blame him for not knowing what the hell he should do here.
“I’ll tell you the same thing I tell my patients: life doesn’t come with guarantees.”
It did for Ben. Maybe his sixth sense was less of a gift and more curse. Also, he had to be coming across as pretty pitiful for Marlene to go into therapist mode. That was a slap to the ego.
“I can’t decide what to do for you,” said Marlene. “All I can say is that the status quo isn’t kind to Isaiah, however unintentionally so on your part.”
“We’re going to have to talk about this, aren’t we?” The prospect was frightening on more levels than Ben cared to admit, though he suspected Marlene had already worked it out.
“It’d be best.”
Too bad he had no clue what to say.
“I think my work here is done.” She looked much less severe than when she’d arrived, and casually headed for the door. “We’re having lunch for the twins’ birthday, so Ize won’t be home until this evening.”
Ben was pathetically relieved to hear this. He needed the time to think. Though he did wonder, because he’d never seen Isaiah’s brothers eat dessert. “Will they even eat cake on their birthday?”
“About two bites,” said Marlene. “It leaves more for the rest of us.” She gave him one last assessing look, and he got the uncomfortable impression that he didn’t quite measure up. “I hope I’ll be seeing more of you.”
That was slightly encouraging, and Ben was desperate enough to take what he could get.
****
There were no message boards, websites, or blogs related to his gift, at least not that Ben could find. Maybe that secret internet, the dark net or deep web or whatever it was called, would be more helpful, but he didn’t have the slightest clue how it worked and had only ever heard of it being used for sketchy business, the kind best not associated with.
So, no help online. Maybe he really was the only person with the gift. Well, his cousin technically shared it, but she hadn’t been able to sense a match staring her in the face since she discovered the combination of oxy and Xanax, and to be honest that was the least of her drug-related problems. Or self-medication problems, as his aunt preferred to call them. Either way, Ben couldn’t count on any help from his cousin.
He didn’t particularly want to talk with Isaiah without having any answers. On the other hand, he didn’t know how he was supposed to think about anything else with the what-ifs swirling around his brain. He couldn’t even focus on making himself a sandwich, and attention lapses of that sort would not go over well at work.
So, talking was in order. He wished he was better at such conversations, or knew what to say, but there was nothing for it but to try.
All of this deliberation ended with him standing in front of Isaiah’s door that evening, where he hemmed, hawed, and almost picking up the knocker twice before dropping his hand as his courage faded. This paralysis might have lasted another hour if Isaiah hadn’t opened the door.
“Oh! Hey Ben. What’s up?”
“Is now a bad time?” He wasn’t about to start this conversation when Isaiah had to run off to an elevator crisis. Part of him hoped for just such an emergency to delay the discussion, while the other part dreaded any more solitude to fill with running in mental circles.
“Nah, I was just going for a walk to get out of the house.”
Isaiah waited, understandably looking for some explanation as to why Ben showed up on his porch worked up and unusually silent. Words ran through Ben’s mind without sticking long enough to make it out his mouth.
Finally, he managed to say, “Can I come in?”
“Of course.”
That bought him an all-too-brief reprieve while he flopped down into Isaiah’s sofa. Coming over was starting to seem like a worse decision by the second.
Well, he’d start at the beginning. “Marlene came to see me earlier.”
Isaiah’s forehead scrunched up in confusion. “Really? Why?”
There was the rub. Having committed to the discussion, Ben was now taking the “only way out is through” perspective. “To tell me that you love me.”
Isaiah’s shoulders sagged, like he’d been carrying the secret for so long he could barely hold himself up anymore. Maybe his sister had been right about how badly they needed to have this talk. “I’m gonna kill her.”
“She knew you’d say that, too.”
“She means well, but just once could she have left off the interfering busybody act? You’d know if we were a perfect fit, so obviously we’re not meant to be. I get why you’re holding out for someone who will ping your cupidar, even if I don’t like it, and I’ll just have to get over my feelings.” He said the last part as though he was trying to convince himself.
“Right.” Ben dragged the word out for a second. “Um, see, I don’t know.”
“Know what?”
“I don’t know about us. I’m my own blind spot.”
Isaiah’s eyes flew wide open. “What do you mean?”
“My gift only works looking from the outside. I’m a complete mystery to myself that way, so I don’t have the slightest idea if we’re a perfect fit or not.” When no response was forthcoming, he tried to explain further. “I can feel other people, their soul or whatever you want to call it, and I just know. I can feel you that way, but myself? Doesn’t work. I’m not, I don’t know, objective enough. It has to be someone else, and I don’t know anyone else with my gift except my cousin, who’s too drugged up to be any help, and I didn’t find anyone online although I haven’t entirely ruled tha
t out yet.”
“Or you could just stop being such a fucking coward.”
He hadn’t expected such vehemence, and stopped short at the anger in Isaiah’s voice. As anyone would have, he automatically replied, “I’m not a coward.”
“Like hell you’re not. You go out there playing God, knowing more than the rest of us mortals with your sure bets. Guess what? Those people you set up don’t have any guarantees.”
“They never break up,” said Ben. Matches were pulled together permanently in ways they couldn’t explain, on some level they couldn’t see but he could. Except when it came to himself, and that had never seemed like a bigger kick in the balls than it did now.
Because he needed a sure thing with Isaiah. The alternative—trying and losing him—was too horrible to allow.
Isaiah shook his head. “They know they’re attracted to each other, which isn’t the same thing as forever, and you damn well need to face that fact. They know it’s all great at the beginning, but that doesn’t give any promise it’s going to be a love story for the ages. Every relationship is a risk, and the rest of us accept that, but not Ben Zamore. Oh no, you’re too afraid to take the same chances the rest of us do. I thought you were holding out to meet the one, and I could handle that. But this? This is locking yourself away from anything good to avoid the bad, also known as garden-variety cowardice.”
“Low blow,” said Ben. Understatement of the year, right there. “You know about my parents. I’m trying to make sure I don’t end up like them.”
“All you have to do there is be a decent human being. The end of a relationship doesn’t make anyone act the way your parents did. God, Ben, do you even hear yourself? Your parents weren’t compelled to be selfish bitches by some force beyond their control. They made terrible choices.”
“I know,” he said, which was true. Each parent, nearing twenty years since the ink dried on the divorce decree, still blamed the other. He used to believe it, when he was a kid.
“Plus, finding your perfect match isn’t some kind of heartbreak-proof guarantee. What if they mess it up and do something unforgivable?”
“It doesn’t work that way.”
“Maybe it doesn’t, maybe it does. You can’t say for sure unless you try. But let’s assume you’re right. It could still end in a car accident or cancer ward or lightning strike because that’s just life.” Isaiah slapped the armrest for emphasis, or maybe as an outlet for his obvious frustration. “You can cut yourself off from the worst of it, if you want, as long as you accept it means you’ll miss out on the best parts as well. Seems like a bad trade to me.”
This chat wasn’t going as well as Ben had hoped. Not that he’d gone into it with a solid best-case scenario, but he thought a little more compassion for the gaping lack in his gift would be nice.
“I know there’s always a risk. That’s why I’m trying to mitigate. You don’t know what it’s like for me. I can look at anyone else in the world and know, but not myself. Do you have any idea how hard that is? How much it eats me up that where it matters the most I’m fumbling around in the dark? I want to know, Ize. I really do. You matter more to me than anyone else, and I sometimes think we could have a real shot.”
“That’s all the information anyone else has.” The fire had gone out of Isaiah’s tone, leaving him drained and resigned. “You need to decide what you want. Aside from finding someone else with cupidar, I mean. But I can tell you this much: we’re not fucking anymore. I want a boyfriend, and if it’s not going to be you, I’m going to find someone who’s not afraid of taking the chance. I’ve known the sex wasn’t a good idea, but I’m weak when it comes to you.”
“Emotional masochism, your sister called it.”
“Charming.”
They sat in silence while Ben considered what he wanted. Aside from certainty, because that wasn’t an option, damn it all. It occurred to him that just having this conversation was inevitably going to screw up his friendship with Isaiah, the one he hadn’t wanted to jeopardize.
Uncomfortable truths emerged from Isaiah’s accusations, because even if he didn’t truly understand where Ben came from, having neither the gift nor acrimoniously divorced parents, he did have a point that other people gave relationships a shot all the time. Sometimes, even if they weren’t the ideal partners he could identify, these pairings worked out splendidly.
Of course, more often they didn’t.
Isaiah shook his head with downcast eyes. “Why don’t you get back to me when you’ve figured out what you want?”
“I don’t want to lose you.” If nothing else, Ben knew that much.
“Really?” Isaiah gave a tentative, very wobbly smile. “That’s a start.”
Start? Try everything. All the reasons Ben was terrified, wrapped up in one simple sentence.
“No, Ize. It’s why I’m so nervous about taking this further. Because I don’t think we could go back, and not having you in my life would be the worst possible outcome. That’s why I want to be sure.”
He had to get this across. Isaiah seemed to think ambivalence was holding him back, when in fact it was this need to have Isaiah in some capacity driving his decisions.
“Wow. Okay, in that case, maybe I was slightly harsh before.”
Ben held up his hand, fingers about an inch apart. “Little bit.”
“I still think I have valid points.”
“Probably.”
It came down to this, then. He could accept the risk, jump in, and hope he got his happily ever after, or he could decide knowing was more important.
Certainty didn’t matter nearly as much as Isaiah. Why hadn’t he seen it before? Hell, for all he could tell, this was what it felt like to meet your match. No other guy had compared since their first hookup, after all, and his feelings had only grown.
“Do you think you could still love a recovering coward?” he asked.
“Recovering?” Isaiah suddenly found the ability to look straight at him.
“You told me to figure out what I want, and I want you, Isaiah Pence.” Somehow, using his last name seemed more formal. Like a vow.
“Even without a cupidar promise? Even if your cousin sobered up next week and said we’re not a match made in Heaven?”
Ouch. He wasn’t pulling any punches, and it was probably fair, so Ben considered the question. “I won’t lie. That wouldn’t be easy to hear.”
“But would it be the end?”
It was clear this was a make or break question, so he considered it carefully. “No.” The answer felt so right, he repeated it. “No, I don’t want to lose you, remember?”
He’d never have anyone launch themselves at him so fast. Isaiah wrapped his arms behind Ben’s back and smashed their bodies together as closely as possible, lips and all. It was messy, at an uncomfortable angle, and absolutely perfect.
After a minute of devouring Ben’s mouth, Isaiah pulled his face away enough to speak. “I’m sorry if I was a bit of an ass. I didn’t realize you were afraid because you care so much.”
“It’s okay. You weren’t wrong about everyone else having to deal with the same worries and managing anyway.” Which led to another point he should probably touch upon. “I don’t know much about being a boyfriend. Comes from not having one since college, you know.”
Even then, it had never been serious. His college boyfriends were good companions and fun in bed, not looking to be life partners. Isaiah was entirely different, and Ben had no experience with that.
“Kinda strange that Cupid doesn’t know how to be in love.”
“I can spot it. That’s not just another kettle of fish, it’s a different ocean.” He gave Isaiah a tight squeeze. “I’ll learn to be good at love.”
“I’m not worried about it. We’ll handle the bumps in the road as they come. Right now, I just need for there to be an ‘us’.”
“There’s definitely an us. In fact, I’m thinking we should take a vacation this winter. My preference is for someplace tropic
al where you can go a week without wearing a shirt, but in the spirit of being a good boyfriend, I’m willing to compromise.”
“How very generous of you,” said Isaiah. “Truly selfless.”
“I’m also going to order those chaps you’re interested in.”
“Assless?”
“Why not?”
Isaiah’s chuckle reverberated through their bodies. “If you’re doing that, I might be persuaded to keep my shirt off more often.”
“I’ll get expedited delivery.”
He leaned forward to get his lips back on Isaiah’s, where they felt quite at home. The beard added another layer of sensation, one which woke Ben’s body and more specifically his dick. He thought the beard would feel amazing rubbing on his thighs as Isaiah went down on him. All in due time.
This wasn’t about getting off. Not that sex with Isaiah had been solely about the orgasm for quite some time, but the point was, the leisurely way their tongues tangled was new, and Ben didn’t want to rush it. He was enjoying himself far too much.
Isaiah’s weight pressed him into the couch, sturdy and real, grounding him in how they felt together. Ben reached a hand up under his lover’s shirt for the simple pleasure of feeling skin.
They should send Marlene flowers or some similar gesture. Who knew how long they might have gone with their misunderstanding and, in Ben’s case, unrestrained fear? It was a damn shame how much time they’d wasted already, and more would’ve been so much worse. Meddling sisters weren’t so bad after all.
Isaiah kissed like he was trying to climb into Ben’s mouth. At a guess, he’d needed this for a while now, and Ben felt a pang of guilt over making him wait so long.
He wasn’t going to leave his man hanging again. There was no point in doing the relationship unless he did it right, and that mean making sure Isaiah got what he needed. If it included leisurely explorations of each other’s mouths, so much the better.
“Can I top you?” Isaiah murmured the words against his lips.
Nine times out of ten, Ben preferred to top, and Isaiah knew it was only a particular mood which would see him bottoming. Well, now it was two moods, since he could add “love-drunk” to the list.
Blind Spot Page 3
