by Anna Sugden
Whether it was just that one promise or a combination of all the things that were Ben Peterson, she didn’t know, but a dam broke inside of her. One moment she was shaking her index finger at him, demanding that he stay out of her life, and the next, she was crumpling toward the floor. And letting him catch her in his arms.
* * *
BEN’S HEART SQUEEZED like a fist as Delia sagged against him, and he cradled her head against his shoulder. Her tears soaked the front of his sweater, their heat radiating through him along with his guilt. He’d hoped she would open to him, to let out the feelings she’d buried inside her for so long, but he’d never wanted her to hurt like this.
He’d withstood the agony of not being able to comfort her the other night, but now each sob hammered right against his chest, her pain and each dark memory seeming to seep from her heart into his. He braced himself, withstanding it all for her sake.
Shifting and slipping to her side, he lifted her into his arms, cradling her to him. She was so tiny, so light, but he didn’t doubt for a minute how strong she was. She’d survived atrocities that should have crippled her and had channeled her pain into a way to help others. She was a lot like him. Only stronger.
Having never been to her apartment before, he scanned from the dinette to the living room grouping in the mostly darkened room before starting toward the sofa. Even with the only light coming from the ceiling fixture in the front hallway, he noted that the place was the polar opposite of his own country home. As stark as his was overly adorned. A sea of practical beige and obsessive tidiness, versus loud prints and deliberate clutter.
Once he reached the couch, he turned and carefully lowered himself, and her, to the seat, draping her frame across his lap. For several minutes, he sat there, rubbing her shoulder and brushing his fingers over the soft strands that had escaped her bun.
Only when he stretched to turn on the table lamp did her eyes blink open. Her gaze darted about as if she wondered when they’d moved from the doorway to the couch.
“Uh. Sorry.”
Awkwardly, she shifted out of his lap and pushed herself to the opposite end of the tan sofa, pressing her back to the seat’s arm. It was all he could do not to pull her back to him, the plush chasm between them stretching too far. But maybe she needed space, and he just had to give it to her.
Delia swiped ineffectively at her tears, and then brushed her face on her sweater sleeve. With a chuckle, Ben passed her the box of tissues from the table next to him. She pulled out a few and started wiping.
“What are you looking at?” She frowned at first, but then the sides of her mouth lifted slightly. “I never cry. Ever. And that’s all I can do around you lately.”
“I’m just lucky, I guess.”
She chuckled now as she exchanged the soggy tissues for fresh ones. “If that’s what you want to call it.”
For several seconds, neither spoke, but it wasn’t an awkward silence. Just quiet, calm.
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Ben said in a soft voice.
“You say that now.” She smiled again.
She didn’t speak for so long that Ben figured she planned to take him up on his offer to keep her story to herself.
“I think I wanted you to find it,” she said finally.
He turned to her. “What do you mean?”
“I kept discouraging you from looking, but I hoped you’d find it.”
“So you didn’t have to tell me yourself.” He didn’t pose it as a question because he knew it was true. Sometimes he found it easier to let others learn about his history the same way. “You really wanted me to know?”
She only shrugged, but it was enough. She might not have been ready to share her story herself, but she’d wanted him to know her. That said a lot.
“The articles weren’t that easy to find, you know, hidden behind all of that other corruption stuff.”
“I know. People who hurt kids are a dime a dozen. But those who steal large sums of cash from government entities, now, they make for fascinating news.”
“That’s the world we live in.” He frowned at the bare walls.
“My world was pretty much a nightmare.”
Ben straightened, turning back to her. “Are you sure you’re ready to tell this story?” He had to ask because he wasn’t sure he was ready to hear it, but he would listen for her sake.
“It’s time.”
“Well, then, would it be all right with you if we got rid of this?” He gestured toward the space on the sofa between them. At her nod, he slid closer until he was right next to her, reached down and took her hand in his, lacing their fingers.
She watched their joined hands as if mesmerized by the rhythm with which he rubbed his thumb over the back side of her hand. “You already know a lot of it.”
“The story about them leaving you with the hairdresser?”
“That was right after the charges were dismissed. And you know what the specific charge was and what it meant, right?”
He nodded, swallowing. This was harder than he’d even imagined it would be.
“Then we don’t have to go into that part.” She paused as if considering where to go next. “The rest of the story isn’t even all that unique. Powerful man, used to getting what he wanted. And he wanted me. I was ten.”
Ben squeezed his lids shut, heat burning behind his eyes. How could anyone do that to a child? Who could be so evil? When he opened his eyes again, she was watching him.
“Sure you’re ready to hear this?”
He cleared his throat. “Sorry. Of course.”
She nodded. “It had been going on more than a year before I told my teacher, and she filed the police report. That’s when my mother called me a liar. She helped to discredit me as a witness.”
“How could she do that to her own child?”
“Oh, I made it really easy for her. I was a liar.” She smiled this time, but the expression didn’t reach her eyes. “In the months since Lloyd had started abusing me, I’d started lying. About everything. Homework. Where I’d been. With whom. You name it. It was my coping mechanism, but it didn’t make me a credible witness. All my mother had to do was suggest that I’d always been a liar, and...”
“So the prosecutor dropped the charges?”
“They hadn’t exactly had a winning record with Lloyd to start with,” she said. “And in this case, they had only the testimony of a confirmed liar and no other witnesses. They couldn’t run away from the case fast enough.”
“It’s not fair!” He knew his words weren’t rational, but he didn’t care. “I know I’m supposed to assure you that none of the things that happened to you were your fault. That you deserved to have a childhood where you felt safe. Those things are definitely true. But I’m pissed. That creep should not be allowed to walk on this earth, let alone run around free after what he did to you. I don’t care what else he got away with. He should have to pay for what he took from you.”
He hadn’t known what to make of her strange sound at the beginning of his rant, but by the end, he was sure she was laughing at him.
“Did I miss something?”
“No. Sorry.” She shook her head. “It’s just that I said something similar to him the other night when he was here.”
“What do you mean ‘when he was here’?”
“He and my mother have been hanging around lately, trying to shove themselves back in my life. A bunch of calls, messages and then that little visit the other night.” She released his hand to brush her own together. “But I’m pretty sure I shut that down for good.”
Ben shifted forward in his seat, immediately on edge. “You didn’t mention this before. Maybe we should have more patrols around your complex for a while.” He pointed toward the door. “I already told you that the lock on the outside door sticks. If they come back—”
“Ben, they’re not coming back.” She met his gaze directly, then shook her head to make her point. “I handled it, o
kay? They won’t be back.”
“How are you so sure?”
“Lloyd loves himself too much to take more risks, especially since I told him I’m looking for other victims. And Marian is too afraid of being alone to return without him.”
“Well, if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
He was staring at the cheap interior door, wondering what it would take for him to repair the one on the outside of the building, when he had another thought. “Wait. What night did you say your parents came here?”
“I didn’t say, but it was that night when I came home really late. You know which one. When we saw those two cars in the park.”
“You mean the night we made love.”
She coughed into her hand and stared at the floor, color staining her cheeks. “I wasn’t going to put it that way.”
“That’s why you wouldn’t take my calls. At least part of the reason.”
She shook her head emphatically. “It didn’t have anything to do with—”
“You know it did. You’d just come home after...everything, and there they were to drag you back to the past.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Wasn’t it?”
She was quiet for several seconds, and then she shrugged. “It was an unfortunate coincidence.”
“You were having a tough time that night, even before you came back here. It wasn’t your first...?”
She shook her head to interrupt him, and then she shrugged. “I’ve had a couple of, you know, relationships. They didn’t work out so well.”
But even if the thought of someone else being with her made him uncomfortable, at least the other night hadn’t been her first real time.
“So the other night was different because...?”
“We don’t have to rehash that, do we?”
“No, we don’t,” he said. At least she hadn’t argued the point that the other night had been different. “But maybe that’s something you should talk about with someone. When you’re ready. A counselor maybe. Someone who can help you put your memories into perspective.”
“Maybe.”
“I know the grief counselor helped me a lot after the accident.” At her surprised look, he grinned. “My grandparents dragged my butt to her office every week.”
Delia shifted next to him and became extremely interested in whatever she saw on her spotless dinette table. He was sorry he’d pushed it.
She cleared her throat as if preparing to tell him where he could put all of his advice.
“I don’t want you to think I didn’t, you know, want to. Or didn’t, um, like it.” She paused, looking back to the table. “Because I did.”
Ben had to remind himself to breathe. He knew what a big deal it was for her to admit that she’d wanted him, and she’d gone even further, admitting she’d enjoyed herself.
He turned to face her, drawing his knee up onto the sofa, then reaching for both of her hands. Her gaze lifted to his, and she pressed her teeth into her bottom lip, but she didn’t try to pull away. That was a good sign. He decided to take a chance.
“About the other night.” He tried not to notice when she grimaced. “I understand a little better why you were so upset after everything. But I can’t be sorry it happened.”
“Ben, you don’t have to—”
He shook his head to stall her. “Please let me get this out. I know the words are tough for you. You’ve probably been taught to associate them with something dirty. I want you to know that there was nothing dirty or wrong about what happened between us. At least not to me.”
She started to answer, but he had to keep talking, before he chickened out. “I need you to know that I adored making love with you. You blew my mind. And I’d be happy to repeat the whole event, with more preparation and a better location, anytime you like.”
He didn’t mention what she’d said the other night about the thing between them needing to stop because he hadn’t wanted to hear it then and he didn’t want to believe it now.
“Look, Ben. You know my history now. You know how messed up I am. Why would you even want to deal with any of that?”
“Do you think those things make you a less intriguing and desirable woman?” He shook his head slowly. “After you learned about my father, did you suddenly think I wasn’t a decent person? Bad blood and all of that?”
Even as he said it with confidence, he braced himself. Insecurities had a way of lingering long past their expiration dates, and he wasn’t sure he would ever completely let go of his.
“Of course not.” She shook her head as if she couldn’t believe he’d asked. “Those things had nothing to do with you.”
“I could say the same thing about you.”
She shook her head. “I’m just so confused.”
“I get that,” he said. “So I’m making you a promise. I will hold you, support you and listen to you. But I won’t touch you like that again until, or if, you tell me that you want me as much as I still want you.”
He turned her hands over and rubbed his thumbs slowly over the soft pads of her palms. She watched his thumbs for a long time and then finally met his gaze.
“Thank you. For everything,” she managed.
He smiled. “No. Thank you for trusting me with your story. You don’t know how important trust is to me.”
“I do know. And I do trust you, Ben.”
“And I’m in love with you.” His breath caught, his thumbs freezing in place where they touched her palms. It was too soon. “Oh, man. Sorry. I wasn’t supposed to say that. Yet.”
Slowly, he lifted his gaze to meet hers. The alarm in her eyes made him long to gather those words back to him with both hands, to cradle them deep inside where he alone could cherish them and no one would get hurt. He licked his lips. “Let’s just pretend I didn’t say that. Okay?”
For several seconds, Delia didn’t move. She didn’t even blink. She just stared into his eyes as if searching for answers he wasn’t sure he could give. All of his life he’d never believed he was good enough. The weak fruit from an even weaker tree. But he prayed that in this one moment, in this one place, he would be enough for the woman who deserved someone so much better than him.
Slowly, she pulled her hands away, his skin immediately chilled from the loss of her touch. Instead of scooting away from him as she’d done earlier, though, she leaned toward him. She shifted by such tiny increments that he wasn’t sure at first whether she’d really moved or he’d just imagined it in his best dreams. But she had moved. Closer and closer still.
When her mouth was but a breath away from his, she lingered there, seeming suddenly unsure. Then, as if she’d thought it through and had made her choice, she tipped her head and timidly brushed her lips over his in a mere feather of a kiss. His hands had just settled on her shoulders, his eyes drifting closed in the sweetness of that perfect moment, when she pulled back slightly.
He opened his eyes to find her studying him. And then those lovely lips lifted in the brightest smile he’d ever seen, and she spoke the words he’d never expected to hear from her.
“As much as I still want you.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
DELIA’S PULSE POUNDED so loudly in her ears that she was convinced that Ben could hear it, too. He loved her. He’d said it out loud, whether he’d tried to back out of his confession or not. What was she supposed to do with that? So vast, so overwhelming, it made her feel small, like a bit player in the film of her life.
She’d only now confessed that she trusted him, a risk she’d never dared to take with anyone else, and now he expected her to trust him with her heart, as well. Could she tell him the terrifying truth—that she already had? That his quiet strength had breached her defenses more effectively than an armed assault? But as she stared into the deep brown eyes of her self-effacing hero, the words she longed to say, the words buried deep in her heart, wouldn’t come.
“You’re sure?”
Her gaze shot over
to him. Had he just read her mind? No. Obviously, he was asking about that other thing she’d said. She was wavering on that, too, so she nodded to convince them both. She cleared her throat. “I’m sure.”
“I’m glad.”
Delia braced herself to be as swept away as they’d been the first time, with heat and need eclipsing their good sense. But Ben surprised her by simply enfolding her in his arms. Nothing had ever felt more perfect. He gently drew her head to his shoulder and settled back into the sofa.
Why wasn’t she bristling more at his ministrations? It went against everything she believed in to rely on someone else, to give him the power to hurt her. It felt so nice, though, so safe, letting someone take care of her, just this once. Especially since that someone was Ben.
She didn’t know how long they’d stayed in that spot, with Ben tracing hypnotizing little circles on her back and with that sporty scent she would ever associate with him filling her with a sense of calm. Her eyes drifted closed as she allowed her other senses to simply enjoy his presence. This was what love could be like, how sweet and tender it could be, if she could only allow herself to dive into the waves of it instead of just poking her toes in the surf.
She was still considering the possibilities they might find on white-sand beaches while wading together in the frothy tide when Ben pressed his lips to her temple. Her eyes popped open, but she resisted the temptation to pull away from his sweet touch. She needed him, and she refused to let Lloyd steal one more thing from her. This moment was hers and Ben’s.
“Do you mind if I take these out?” He reached for one of the pins holding her bun in place.
Her hand went automatically to the back of her head. “It’ll be an awful mess.”
“God, I hope so.”
His chuckle was so low and throaty, so sexy, that she felt a tingling all the way to her most feminine places. Should she worry about how easily her body responded to him? How she always wanted things she’d never wanted before with him? No, this was right. This was Ben.
Gently, he removed her pins one by one, dropping them on the side table. When all that remained were the two bands that held the knot in place, Delia removed those herself, her hair falling in a heap down her back.
