by Liz Talley
Benton’s eyes flashed pain and bitterness. “You want to talk fathers? Really?”
“I’m not talking fathers. I’m merely reminded of how apples don’t fall far from their trees. If you need to leave Jess a message, let me know. Otherwise, I’ll thank you to find your way back to your vehicle and get the hell out of here.”
Benton’s smile was nasty. “No. I need to talk to Jess this morning. She’s my wife. So do me a favor, bro, and go get her.”
“Your wife? You tossed that privilege away over a year ago, bro. So I think I’ll stand right here and watch you walk back to your big truck and drive away.”
Benton stepped closer to Ryan. Ryan stepped closer to Benton, shutting the front door behind him with a snick. Years ago, Ryan was afraid of the larger upperclassman, but he wasn’t anymore. He spent a couple of hours in the gym each day, and the black belt he’d earned in martial arts assured him he could face any particular threat with grace, power, and speed. No longer would anyone put him in a closet.
“You’re asking to get your ass beat down, Reyes,” Benton said, his voice low and threatening.
“I know your game, Ben,” Ryan said, curling his hands, lifting himself on his toes, prepared for a strike. “You’re playing with Jess’s mind. She’s over you, and you can’t stand that, can you? You have a superiority complex with no real basis for it.”
“Wait, you think you can make her happy?” Benton looked down at him. The older man had a few inches and a few pounds on Ryan, but it was obvious he’d traded physical fitness for an extra beer and slice of pizza. One strike to the throat and Benton would go down squealing like a stuck pig. Still, Ryan didn’t want to collapse the man’s windpipe. Much.
So he stared at him.
“I mean, what, you work out, get a tan, become a boat captain? You think that makes you a man? You’re still a loser, Ryan. You established that long ago. You and your weirdo parents. You think Jess can’t see through all this? It’s so pathetic how hard you’ve worked to erase what you were. I liked you better when you were honest.” Benton laughed and then slapped him on the shoulder.
Ryan didn’t move. He stood his ground, outwardly stoic, inwardly reeling at the man’s words. Was that how everyone saw him? Pathetic because he’d worked hard to change himself into what he thought a man should be? No. He’d been trying to claim what everyone else had in life. He’d not compromised himself for the approval of the world. Or maybe he had. Did he think a hundred crunches a day, teeth bleaching, and learning baseball stats made him more a man than what he was? Had he sacrificed his authenticity in order to present a man he thought would be admired? Using slang terms … wait, was he frontin’?
“Benton, what are you doing here?” Jess asked behind him.
Ryan turned to see her standing in the doorway, wearing a pair of slouchy shorts and a T-shirt. Her hair tangled around her face, and he could see the imprint of the sheets on her cheek.
“Hey, there you are,” Benton said, his voice easing, sounding like a pediatrician addressing a reluctant child.
Ryan turned his attention back to Jess’s ex-husband. The man’s smile was all rainbows and lollipops.
Ryan didn’t look back at Jess. Instead he said, “Benton was just leaving.”
Jess ignored Ryan. “Benton, what are you doing here?”
“I’d rather not say in front of your boyfriend here,” Benton said.
“Why not?” Ryan asked, crossing his arms. “You’ve caused her enough pain, so I think whatever you need to say you should say right now.”
“She doesn’t need your permission to talk to me, Reyes.” Benton’s tone held a warning.
“Of course she doesn’t.” Ryan finally looked back at Jess, afraid to see what he might find in her face. Yet she merely rubbed her face and stared at both men as if she couldn’t grasp what was going on.
“Let me talk to my wife,” Benton said.
“Ex-wife,” Ryan and Jess said in unison.
“Fine, ex-wife.” Benton held out his hand. “Come on, babe. I want to show you my new truck. Finally talked ol’ Greg down on the price.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “All that needed to be said was done last night.”
“Jess,” Benton chided, tilting his head, looking as slick as a Bible salesman. “A lot of things were left unsaid between us. At least give us closure.”
“Closure?” Jess repeated. “I think you better go, Benton.”
Benton reached for Jess, but Ryan stepped in front of the man. “You heard the lady.”
“Move, Reyes, before I shove you into another closet,” Benton growled, feigning to the right before going to the left, heading for Jess.
Ryan grabbed Benton’s forearm and jerked the man off balance just as Jess said, “You’re the one who locked him in that closet?”
Benton lost his footing and fell back onto the railing of the porch. He righted himself and came back swinging. “You son of a bitch! That’s my wife you’re fucking!”
Jess screamed as Ryan ducked and then gave Benton a solid one-two punch. The first punch landed in Benton’s gut. As the man doubled forward, Ryan gave him a left hook that snapped his head around. Benton staggered backward, grappling for leverage and finding it on the same rail he’d stumbled into earlier. When his gaze finally met Ryan’s, it registered disbelief and then rage.
Benton pushed off the rail, starting back toward Ryan again. Jess screamed, “No!” and jumped in front of Ryan, holding her hands up. It registered in Ryan’s mind that the crazy woman thought she was protecting him. He tried to pull her back so she didn’t accidentally get hit, but thankfully Benton lowered his fist.
“Stop this right now!” Jess shouted, pushing against Benton’s chest and darting a dazed look back at Ryan. “Have you both lost your ever-lovin’ minds?”
Benton looked at her and said, “He started it.”
Ryan started laughing at the asinine statement. What? Was the man a seven-year-old? He sobered quickly and muttered, “I did not.”
And Ryan realized he was being just as infantile. What was it about a woman that drove two grown men into becoming scrapping little boys intent on one-upping the other?
“I can’t believe you two. This is ridiculous. Like two dogs with a bone. Benton, I told you I don’t want to talk to you. And, Ryan, did you really have to hit him?” Jess’s eyes had lost the fogginess. The golden depths snapped with ire.
Ryan clenched his teeth, refusing to answer the question. He’d wanted to hit Benton Mason for as long as he could remember. The man had deserved everything Ryan had given him … and more. But he supposed he shouldn’t have acted like some lowbrow Neanderthal fighting over a stick. It was a bit infantile, but the emotions roiling inside him had him reacting and not thinking logically.
She looked back and forth between the two men. “Ben, go home.”
“But, Jess, I wanted—”
The woman clapped her hands under her ex-husband’s nose and said firmly, “Go. Home. Now.”
Benton tossed a glare at Ryan. “Fine. If I can find my way out of this fucking jungle. Freaking weirdos.” Then he turned and stalked down the cracked path. Hitchhikers from the Bahia grass peppered his pant leg. Somehow that gave Ryan satisfaction.
“And you.” Jess turned on him, jabbing a finger into his chest. “You hit him for the wrong reasons, and you know it. And anyway, I don’t need you fighting my battles with Benton.”
She spun on a socked foot and walked back into the house, slamming the front door for good measure. Ryan stood there, knuckles sore and stomach churning. He knew he’d been too hasty, but he couldn’t bear the thought of Benton’s hands on Jess. The man reached for her like some kind of crazy barbarian who had the right to touch her. And he didn’t. Not anymore. But where did that leave Ryan?
Jess was mad at him for defending her.
No. She was mad because he’d indulged himself in hitting Benton. Perhaps she hadn’t known the extent to which her ex-husband
had tortured Ryan, but she’d had a suspicion. She’d said as much. But now she knew Mr. Morning Glory High had been the one who’d locked a boy in the closet, causing Ryan to pass out … and wet his pants. Ryan had never identified the person, though everyone knew (wink, wink) that some baseball boys had been horsing around, playing a silly prank. That’s how bullying was dealt with years ago. With a boys-will-be-boys explanation. Well, Benton had been a boy being a boy far too often in his life.
Ryan flexed his hand. He couldn’t say it hadn’t been satisfying. And he wasn’t apologizing to Jess for punching Benton.
And at that moment, he didn’t know what to say to her.
Everything felt upside down.
Jess sat in the guest room and tried not to cry. She felt so out of control. This weekend was supposed to be a chance for her and Ryan to be a couple. She’d introduce Ryan to her parents, everyone would see that she was over Benton, and she and Ryan would dance at the reception and look as happy as two pigs in the mud. Because they were happy. Or at least they had been. Now she was confused. Everything felt like it was coming apart just like the little pots she used to fashion out of the Mississippi mud when she was a child. Things not meant to be didn’t hold together.
Ryan pushed into the bedroom and closed the door behind him. Tension filled all the spaces in between them, heavy and grim. For almost a month, they’d shared smiles, tender glances, and sheet-drenching sex, but never a disagreement.
Ripping her gaze from a hangnail, she looked up at him. “God, Ryan, what is wrong with you?”
He pressed his hands against his chest, his brow furrowing. “Me? What’s wrong with you? You dance with that bozo last night, and all of a sudden you won’t look at me. Won’t let me touch you. We slept in that bed like strangers.”
Jess swallowed the guilt. Dancing with Benton last night as he told her things she’d always believed had left her feeling mixed up. She had always wanted to live in Morning Glory, raise her babies here, and grow old rocking on the front porch of a cute house—the quintessential American dream. And the desire for that ultimate future hadn’t faded. Those seductive words—you belong here—had rattled around inside her, making her doubt everything she’d found in Pensacola. Because splashing in the Gulf with cutie patootie Ryan wasn’t what she wanted in a future, or at least she didn’t think she did. Those words along with everyone hinting Ryan was her plaything had combined to make her wonder what the hell she was doing with the handsome fisherman. Not to mention she felt panicky about the strong feelings she had for him. Because inside, things felt real. Like she could be falling in love. But that’s not what she was supposed to do. She wasn’t supposed to fall into that rebound trap. Because she couldn’t survive another crippling loss in her life. If she fell in love, she would get hurt. Because Ryan wasn’t coming back to Morning Glory, that much was certain. Every hour spent here, he became less and less of the man she knew and more and more of the shadow he’d once been. She’d watched him pull at his shirt, look like he’d eaten a plate of wriggling worms, stare into space, employing diversionary tactics. Everything about him felt forced and nothing like the loose, chill guy who made her smile, who seemed so confident in being exactly who he was, who gave her a place to lay her head.
“This doesn’t have anything to do with Benton,” she said finally.
“So you’re trying to use the ol’ ‘it’s not you, it’s me,’ but we both know whatever is going on with you has something to do with that ass. Everything was good until that dance. So what? Has he changed his mind? Is he crooking his little finger and you’re thinking about running back to him?” Ryan asked, his eyes glittering. Emeralds glinting anger. “Eden said it yesterday. We don’t change. So is this you blowing me off because you’re still the same perfect cheerleader whose big, dumb jock needs you by his side?”
“Ryan,” Jess said, drawing back. Such anger in those words. Was that what he really thought about her? That she was that shallow? But then again, he had little reason to trust any of the people he’d gone to high school with. Back then everyone had a slot, and Ryan hadn’t fit in any of them. He’d become a victim because of it. She recognized what he did because she dealt daily with hurting patients who lashed out not because they were nasty but because they couldn’t tolerate the pain.
Jess straightened her shoulders. “Look, that’s not what we’re discussing. This is not about me and Benton. It’s about you and Benton. You’re pissed at him and this town for the way you were treated, and you hit him because of that. Not me.”
“You’re goddamn right I hit him for the way he treated me … and the way he treated you,” he said, slamming a hand on the dresser. “You wouldn’t understand what it was like having a group of guys hold you down and give you wedgies, the humiliation of having everything you wore picked apart in front of the lunchroom while everyone’s laughing, or having to see the look in your parents’ eyes when your house gets egged twice a month. My dad and I had to clean it up while I wondered why they hated me so much. He and his friends made my life miserable. So, yeah, I hit him. He probably deserved more, but I’ll settle for what I just gave him.”
“I’m sorry.” Learning Benton had played a part in locking Ryan in that storage closet made her feel ill. She remembered hearing the ambulance arrive as she took her calculus test, and later overhearing people laughing over Ryan passing out and wetting his pants. She hadn’t found much humor in belittling the boy who’d always shown her kindness. She, of course, knew Benton teased Ryan and some of the other nerdy kids, but she’d always thought it was good-natured. She’d never viewed Benton as a torturer. Just a guy who liked to clown around, a guy who liked to mark his territory.
“Now maybe you can see why I worked so hard to change and why I wasn’t interested in coming back here this weekend. I’m not comfortable here.” His words found their mark. He was implying all of this was her fault. Because she’d talked him into coming home with her.
“Christ, just have the balls to be who you are,” she said, something ugly unraveling inside her. She wanted to hurt him. Strike at him. Put some of the blame on him. “You pretend to be someone you’re not in Florida, and here you act like people still see you as a flippin’ thirteen-year-old. You’re grown, so let go of the past already.”
Ryan stilled, his eyes shuttering. “You must be joking.”
“No,” she snapped. “You don’t get it. You just said it. People don’t change. You don’t have to make yourself into some caricature of someone you think is cool. It’s ridiculous. And when I come back here and remember who you were and compare that to who you’ve become, it’s so obvious. You’re living a lie.” She leaped up from the bed, her emotions wrestling inside her. She was unable to stop herself from flinging knives at him.
Jess glanced up to see the disbelief in his eyes, the betrayal. And she hated herself for the words she said.
“I’m the liar?” Ryan said, his voice sounding like death—silent and heavy. “You brought me back here for selfish reasons. You’re using me to thumb your nose at Benton. In fact, you’ve been using me the whole time so you could feel better about yourself. And I let you do it, just like I always did. Like your stupid fucking puppy.”
Jess felt the cannon blast of his response. His words were true, but he didn’t know that beneath the assumption of her vanity lay the fear she’d already started down the slippery slope of love. That thought scared the spit from her mouth. No, she wouldn’t love Ryan. She’d push him away. Make him hate her. “Fuck you.”
His eyes narrowed. “You already have.”
Her heart shattered into a million pieces because she could see his disdain for her. Maybe they’d used each other. Him for his stupid adolescent fantasy of doing the head cheerleader and her to look better in front of the town. Maybe their romance had been a house of cards. One strong gust, and, poof, they were done. “I have to go.”
“Where? Back to that asshole? Back to being what you think will make you happy? I do believ
e Lacy would be ashamed of you.”
Jess stopped in midstride and looked at him. “You don’t get to use her name, buster. She’s nothing to you. And you didn’t know her.”
“I knew her well enough to know she didn’t run from things because they were hard. That’s what you’re doing. You think there’s some rule that says you have to be the Jess Culpepper you always were. Come back here and do whatever the hell people do here. Exist or wait to die or whatever. You’re running from any other kind of future, for any chance to break out of being the perfect cheerleader, perfect wife, perfect daughter.”
“I am not,” she said, his words feeding the raging beast inside her. She looked at the hand reaching for the doorknob and dropped it.
Ryan thrust a hand in his hair. “Yeah, it’s hard sometimes to let go of who you thought you were, but if you don’t, you can’t find the good stuff. I get that part of you wonders if it would just be easier to come back and fall into the life you thought you wanted. Because you know what you’re getting. Rosemary ran from her safe world—that’s what you told me—and you’re trying to climb into the straitjacket she shed because you’re afraid to be someone other than what you imagined for yourself. You’re chicken.”
Jess swallowed. Hard. And she thought about throwing something at him. “And this from the man who ran away from who he was. You’re the pretender.”
“Maybe so. But I’m willing to correct it. That’s the scientist in me. I’m not afraid to fall down. I expect that to happen. I get back up again. I don’t stay flat on the floor, accepting that’s where I belong.”
“You’ve never been in love. You don’t know how I feel.”
Ryan shrugged, the anger seeming to leave him. “Maybe I don’t. But I’m not afraid of it. I thought I could plan my life, too, set up guidelines for the next few years, but I didn’t plan on you. I was wrong. The heart doesn’t play by rules.”
Jess felt those words. The heart? No. This wasn’t about the heart. This was about pretenses. This was about … she squeezed her eyes shut for a minute, trying to remember what this was about. Ryan hitting Benton. Jealousy. Revenge. Not love. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Ever since we’ve come here, you’ve been sliding back into the past. I can feel it. You hide beneath a glossy veneer that you think erases who you truly are. You’re the one who’s afraid. So don’t lecture me on who I am.” She gathered up her purse and the bag she’d packed last night with her makeup and toiletries. “I have to go. I have to be at the brunch in an hour.”
