“You’re right. It’s just now she knows about you.”
“Is there something wrong with me that you don’t want her to know? I’m not pretending to have the boyfriend thing down, but at least I’m trying. Sometimes that feels like more than I get from you.”
“I’m sorry. I’m proud to be with you. And I am trying. Cricket, did you tell her you’re my boyfriend?”
“Yes. When she asked.”
“She’ll use you to get back at me. One way or another, she will find a way to destroy us, to make you hate me. It’s just a matter of time.”
“No. No she won’t. I affection you.”
“I don’t know if affection is enough.”
“Come here.” He scoops me up from the sand to hold me, hold me like I’m the most precious thing he’s ever held. I feel so warm and safe wrapped in those comforting arms, but I also know Cricket. This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.
We stand, his chest pressed against my back, looking up at the twinkling stars. Looks like thousands of them out tonight, playing like little children around the big, round mama moon shining equally as bright. It’s a different world out here. His body heat slowly ekes the chill from my bones.
Although I look calm on the outside, inwardly, the civil war rages on. He affections me, and I love that he does, but at the same time I could drown under the weight of my anxiety. My superpower waiting to bust through the surface of my calm façade. You know, I could almost feel the weight of it in my pocket, my phantom pill bottle. I feel it so much that I thrust my hand in my pocket actually expecting it to be there, only to run my thumbnail over cloth and lint.
“When is my crap finally going to be too much?” I finally have the courage to ask him, motioning between us. “We keep running in circles, Ben. When are you finally going to say when?”
“You’re crap, as you call it, isn’t anything new. I accepted it when I decided to be a part of your life, which was a hell of a longer time ago than we’ve been dating. I may not know everything that’s holding you back, but one day I will, and you will kick yourself for not letting go sooner.”
“But I’m not living up to my part. So what exactly are you getting out of hanging on?”
“That’s probably the dumbest question you’ve ever asked. It should be obvious. I get you. And I’ll repeat myself as long as it takes for you to believe me. Come on, now.” He starts pulling me away from the water. “You owe me a night in.”
As we walk back to the cars, he tucks me underneath his arm where I’m able to lean my head on his shoulder. Benton bends down, placing a soft kiss to my forehead. The wind tickles against the small spot of moisture where his lips touched, making me shiver. He holds me closer, tighter.
“Where’s your keys?”
“Why?” I ask, reaching into my pocket I pull them out, handing the bundle of keys and key rings over to him.
“Because.” He doesn’t need to answer. “I’m driving your car back.” He’s driving my car because Collin, Sabrina, Errol, and Kip climb out of Ben’s Jeep, all of them walking toward us.
“What—what are you all doing here?” Shock doesn’t come close to pinpointing the gamut of emotions circulating through me at the moment.
“They were worried,” Ben speaks softly in my ear. “Don’t be mad.”
I stop walking to look at him. “Mad? I’m not mad. It’s just…” I turn back to them. “How long were you all going to sit there?”
“As long as it took.” Collin steps closer. “When you didn’t come home, Ben knew where you’d gone. He tried to give you some space.” I venture a look at my completely wonderful boyfriend whose cheeks have tinged with a light dusting of red. Possibly from cold, possibly embarrassment. Either way, I know I don’t deserve the man. “But when space turned into hours,” Collin keeps going, “he decided to come after you. We wanted to see you’re okay.”
“You didn’t tell them?” I ask Ben quietly enough so only the two of us can hear me, and hitch a discreet thumb in our friends’ direction.
“Do you really feel like you have to ask me that?”
The shame engulfs me. Superpower. Boom! “I. No.” I hang my head, not able to face the hurt on his face any longer. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Can’t you see I don’t want sorry, Brontë? All I want, all I’ve ever wanted from you is trust.”
“I trust you, Ben. Please believe me. As much as I have ever trusted anybody in my life.” When he doesn’t say anything, I press the palms of my hands to my eyes and try to collect myself. “Can we just not do this with an audience?” And then I walk back over to my little Focus, sliding into the front passenger seat. At least it’s dark enough that none of them can see me crying, because I can’t stop the tears.
Benton’s Jeep rumbles to life and pulls away, then there’s silence again. Did he go with them? When the driver’s side door swings open I get my answer. He starts my car but doesn’t shift into drive. We idle.
“I’ll um…clear out my stuff when we get back.”
He uses my ritual, long breath in, long breath out, and rubs his hands over his face. “Will I have to deal with you threatening to pack every time we have a disagreement? Do you want to leave me, Elle? Because I don’t remember asking you to go.”
“I am too much effort. We’re a freaking broken record, spinning around until we hit the same crack, the same damn one every single time. I’m sick that I keep hurting you. Just do yourself a favor and cut me loose.”
“I’m not cutting you loose.” His voice sounds so hard and calculating, but it’s coated like mine too.
“I just keep messing up.”
“Once you trust me, you won’t.” I don’t get a chance to defend myself because Ben opens the door and climbs back out. The car is still running. He walks around to my door and pulls me out. I don’t know what’s happening. But then he opens the backdoor, pulling me into the backseat along with him, where he hooks an arm around my waist, tucking me between his legs. His back rests against the other door. One of his fingers twirls my hair while his forehead rests against my temple. I’m just not good at dealing with people. Dr. Packard would have a field day. Maybe, maybe I should break down and call him again. How do I fix this?
“Tell me another story?”
His hand stills in my hair, then he shifts several times as if trying to get comfortable. We’ve molded together, the way we fit, it has to be right. I send a silent prayer into the universe begging for it to let us catch a break. I’ve never fit with anyone before.
Finally, before starting, he presses a kiss behind my ear. “She was sitting on a bench next to a small pond on campus. I knew her name now. Seen her planted as a wallflower at a few freshman parties. Our little group was forming in those first few weeks of college, with her always on the fringes. I wanted to talk with her, just me and her. As I walked over to her, the closer I got I could see she had a notebook on her lap that she scribbled in, her hand moving flawlessly as if the rest of the world had fallen away from her. She was in some sort of zone, trance-like in appearance that most people wouldn’t understand. I understood. I knew as I watched her hand move through page after page with that same determined concentration on her face that this woman was just like me. She was a writer.”
“I remember that day. How long did you watch?”
“Probably twenty pages worth before I worked up the courage. And I was a cocky little punk back then, at least when it came to women. But damn it if when you looked up from that book and smiled at me, just me for the first time, my heart didn’t catch in my throat.”
“That was the day you officially introduced yourself. Told me you were a writer. Convinced me to check out Scriveners with you and Collin and Errol. God, that was before we met Bri.”
“That’s how we met Bri. Hard to think of a time we didn’t know her, you know?”
“I’m trying to trust you, Ben.” His hand tightens on my wrist. “You know more about me than anyone else. Even more than Cri
cket. Or Dinah. Because they only know the bad parts. The parts I’m too scared to let you see just yet. And before you say anything, please let me finish. They only know the bad parts, but you know the good parts. The times with my dad. Those memories were locked away in my brain until I shared them with you.” And I’m crying again. I just want to be done with the crying. I swipe at my eyes with my free hand. It’s hard to catch a breath with the lump wedged in my throat. Snot runs down my nose and I can taste the mucus coating every word as I struggle to swallow. “So even though I know it doesn’t feel like it to you, and I wouldn’t blame you for finally throwing in the towel, don’t say I’m not trying. Because I am. I have been. For a hell of a lot longer than we’ve been dating.”
Chapter 39
Ben
She threw my own words back at me. I’ve been so caught up on what she hasn’t told me that I’d forgotten what she has. Collin tried to tell me too. Her words were his words, but they all fell on my god damned deaf ears.
“We’re both screwed in the head, aren’t we?”
She shrugs. “‘fraid so.”
“Okay, well I’ve got another deal for you.”
“Shoot.”
“You quit trying to leave me, and I’ll quit accusing you of not trusting me.”
“I’m still so scared of making you hate me.” There she goes withdrawing into herself again. But she’s still here snuggled into my lap, and she’s not asking me to cut her loose. That has to mean something. It has to.
“That’s the thing, I could never hate you. I promise to be your protector, to defend you against anyone who tries to hurt you. Words or actions, it doesn’t matter. Every day you stay with me that will be my proof of your trust. We can make it work. We have to, because I can’t with anybody else.”
Chapter 40
Elle
Mother drunken trucker. Midterms! I’d say it’s the week from hell, but since I’ve spent the first half of the semester in Dante’s Inferno, hell just doesn’t seem a strong enough descriptor. There has to be something worse than hell, and when I figure it out, that’s what this week is. Midterms is the week for professors to get their revenge. To take out every sadistic fantasy ever conjured up during a 3:00 a.m. paper grading frenzy on the students. Who would be crowned King Make-our-lives-miserable? Who could conjure up the hardest, most obscure exam questions or multi-chapter papers due right before spring break? It’s to the point where I’m having more meaningful conversations with the librarians about where to find a specific book I’m looking for than with the man I’m currently living with. He being loaded down with papers for his lit classes and short stories for the writing classes, and me studying into the wee hours for those stupid exams until my brain verges on imploding.
Ben’s already asleep every night by the time I get home. He looks so peaceful lying there tonight that I don’t want to risk waking him by climbing into bed. Exhaustion literally overtakes me as I collapse onto the couch, falling asleep almost the moment my head hits the cushion. In my shoes, too tired to even kick them off. So confusion clouds my emerging consciousness when I wake up with a blanket tucked around me and a pillow under my head, sans shoes. Today is day four. Today and tomorrow, then I’m officially on spring break. Ben and Collin are still asleep, which I’m pretty jealous for. I’d love to still be sleeping. Alas, that’s not my lot. Instead, I decide to make breakfast for us all. Maybe I should’ve spent the time last minute studying, but after everything is said and done, I miss my guys and long to spend a little time with them.
Both men emerge from their bedrooms in all their bare chested, rippling muscled glory to the lure of frying bacon and coffee. Just because I’m in the giving mood, I set aside a couple pieces of bacon each as the rest gets a fine chop and folded into the egg mixture destined to become a frittata, the frittata I eventually pull piping hot from the oven. Ben pours a mug of coffee for himself, handing one off to me and Collin, who leans against the counter with his legs crossed in striped pajama pants.
“God, Col.” I shake my head openly admiring the view. What, he mouths with a wrinkled brow. “I’m sure I’ve said it before, but sometimes you really make me consider bumping off Kip and getting sex reassignment surgery.” He snickers into his cup then. “Nobody should look that good just waking up.”
“Uh, hello—boyfriend.” Ben waves his hand to catch our attention, which he never has a problem with getting from me. “I’m super sexy too…” He pretends to whine, jutting out his bottom lip for effect. I saunter over, swaying my hips as sultry-like as someone like me can pull off, him watching the entire way. Pressing the palms of my hands against his chest, I lean in tugging on that jutted lip with my teeth. He groans, hits the coffee mug to the counter, and kisses me into breathlessness until Collin clears his throat loudly.
“Live action hetero porn—great.” His comment almost makes me slip up and look at him. Almost. And it’s all I have to swallow back the laugh. But when you are being kissed into breathlessness by Benton Hayes, not much else can really steal your attention away. “Elle, when I told you that you needed to get laid, I didn’t mean in my kitchen with me standing here.”
“You didn’t say not in your kitchen with you standing there,” I say between kisses. “Next time, put it in writing.”
“I suppose you’re just going to encourage her?” he says to Ben.
“Sorry, brother. Big Ben down there is screaming she’s right. You’re on your own here.”
“Well…she’s lucky she made coffee—and bacon.”
Speaking of, I pry myself away from Mr. Super Sexy to serve up slices of frittata before it gets cold. All the oohing and “mmm” and “damn girl” coming from our kitchen, the neighbors must think we’re having an orgy up in here.
“Why didn’t you come to bed last night, Brontë?
“You were sleeping so soundly I didn’t want to risk waking you up.”
“Wake me up. Always err on the side of waking my ass up because I can’t stand not having you in my arms.”
“Eat,” I tell him. He pins me with the sultriest, most seductive look I think he’s ever given to date. I laugh and shake my head. “Your food, you idiot.”
Ben takes a big bite, chewing slowly. He never breaks eye contact but arches an eyebrow and says, “This is good too.”
We spend the next twenty minutes chatting. Ben practically has me sitting on his lap, and his hand never strays from touching or rubbing or lightly caressing some part of my body. I wish I didn’t have to leave them. Alas, the real world beckons, the real world where I have tests to take. Because I cooked, they clean up while I shower and dress for school. Without any time to thank “Big Ben” for agreeing with me earlier, I hug both my boys goodbye and leave for another day of midterms.
As I turn into the parking lot in front of the social science building, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, and my sister’s name scrolls across a picture of a harpy. The last thing I need before going into exams is to deal with her. I guess I kind of promised Ben I wouldn’t talk to Cricket anymore, but he never mentioned Dinah. Damn it, I already know I’m going to regret it but press the answer button just the same.
“Dinah, what do you want?”
“Manners, Elly. I’m your only sister after all.”
“Does our relationship really warrant anything more?”
“Fair enough.”
“Listen, I’m heading in for my first midterm of the day so just say what you called to say.”
“All right then, mom says you’re whoring yourself out again.”
Whoring myself? Fabulous. Her conversation with Ben. It had to start. I guess the waiting is over. There’s rustling on the other end of the phone and then, “Nobody’s ever going to love you.” Ouch.
“Hi, mom,” I say, trying to keep the hurt out of my voice. But she doesn’t even acknowledge me.
“Don’t fool yourself. You don’t deserve love. And if someone is foolish enough—you’d find a way to ruin it. Don’t
embarrass me.” And she hangs up. Not even a goodbye. Perfect strangers get goodbyes.
Ben was so right. She’s toxic, and even though I knew it before, it’s even more blatant now that I can’t trust my sister, either. Guess Dinah’s getting blocked next. What else can I do? It’s been three years since that night. I just want to move past my mistakes. Why won’t she let me move past them? Suppose I’ve lived in hell well before the semester ever started. My demons followed me all the way across the country, across the years unwilling to let up, unwilling to stop the torment. They’re always in my head. Always. The she-demon sensed my budding happiness and feels the need to snuff it out. But, in the end, Cricket is still right. With what I did, I don’t deserve to be loved.
We had such a good morning. Maybe, universe, can’t she be wrong just this once? Please? I’m not a prayer, and I know I don’t have the right to ask, especially from something so large and vast because I’m so insignificant. But I really need her to be wrong.
First two midterms down, I was pretty shaken by Dinah’s call earlier. That stupid superpower was out in full force so I don’t have high hopes for my first test, but after relying on my ritual once again, all the studying I’ve put myself through hopefully paid off for the second. Of course, usually when I think I’ve done really well is when I end up bombing. So maybe I shouldn’t think so positively.
With my stomach reminding me how much using your brain actually works up an appetite, I head across the quad to meet Ben at Science West. We’re supposed to meet for lunch because today is a really loaded day for the both of us. I have about ten minutes before we’re supposed to meet up.
The wind hits my face and fingers like I’ve opened the door to a blast freezer. I hate the back and forth of cold in this month, but as thinking back to that call earlier today, at least it’s not California. A smart person would’ve driven. I, however, don’t want to lose my good parking spot since it’s going to be dark when I get out of my last class. Two cars driving in opposite directions stop for me to cross at the crosswalk where I begin a fast paced walk/run which I continue with, breathing heavily, rounding the corner to slide between Bagley and Carter halls when the man of my dreams stops me in my tracks. He’s just standing there waiting for me, just standing, looking at his phone. But he’s there for me.
Other Side of Beautiful (A Beautifully Disturbed #1) Page 19
