The End of All Things Beautiful

by Nikki Young

  “Yeah,” he smiles a little. “Blissfully faking her unawareness of all the shit we were doing.”

  “Yep, and nothing’s changed.” That pretty much describes her and to this day it still doesn’t bother me. I often wonder if it should. Would I have shut down after the accident had she been more involved in my life? Would I have shared with her what happened? All of it there in the back of my mind, but I still believe that tragedy would have struck hard regardless. It was an awful situation.

  “How about you?” I ask him, although I feel like I already know he doesn’t have a relationship with them anymore.

  “Nope. After everything,” he says, his voice taking on a softer quality as if he says it too loudly he might have to explain himself. “I kinda just disappeared. Never really told my mom where I was going and by that point my dad had met someone new. I felt like my life was falling apart and they were the last people I wanted to share that with. And the more time that went by, the harder it became to get back in touch with them.”

  He looks away from me and I can sense his guilt over it all. The accident has made us do things we would never normally have done. It’s made us defensive and nervous, scared and closed off. I know the feeling well.

  “Eventually I learned to live without them, I learned to stop missing them.” He stops talking again, taking my hand in his. “Yet I always missed you. No matter how much time passed, I couldn’t stop missing you.”

  I squeeze his hand and lean my head against his shoulder. I feel him kiss my head and I whisper, “I’ve missed you every single day.”

  Annie interrupts us, dropping our food off and chatting for a few minutes, but leaves quickly since the bar has become busier.

  I feel like this is the way it’s been since I found Benji. We start to talk about things, but our conversations are short and punctuated with small moments of admissions, yet nothing ever gets too deep; we’re just scratching the surface. We can’t possibly go on like this, but I can’t bring myself to be the one to initiate what we both know we need to talk about.

  I rub my hands up and down my arms and Benji looks over at me, wrapping his arm around my shoulder, he pulls me closer.

  “You cold?” he asks, and I giggle.

  “Are you going to warm my hands again?” I ask, cocking my head to the side and smiling at him seductively. “If the answer is yes, then I’m absolutely freezing because watching you do that was so fucking hot.”

  “It was pretty damn hot,” he says winking at me. “But no, that’s not the reason I was asking. I was asking because you were being a stubborn ass when I told you to take my coat.”

  “Why, so you could freeze instead?”

  “No, I could’ve worn another, but you, in all your independent pain in the assness, opted to wear no coat instead.”

  “Mine was still wet and it wouldn’t have been if someone hadn’t tackled me in the snow last night.” I shoot him a dirty look and he laughs.

  “Stop being so fucking cute. I kinda wanna eat really fast and then take you home and have you for dessert.”

  “Do it then,” I challenge, raising my eyebrows as I watch him start eating.

  “Hurry up,” he tells me. “We have some place we need to be.”

  We finish our dinner and wish Alex and Annie a good night. I climb into Benji’s truck, my teeth nearly chattering from the blast of cold air that hit me as we were leaving the bar. I’m utterly freezing, not used to it being this cold so soon.

  “Hurry, turn the heat on!” I yell, and Benji gives me a filthy look.

  “Should’ve brought a coat,” he says nonchalantly back, like he couldn’t give a shit that I’m cold and shakes his head at my stupidity. I love his teasing; it feels so normal.

  I slide over so I’m sitting as close to him as possible, slipping my ice-cold hands up his shirt, he jumps and practically calls out in shock.

  “I need you to warm me up again, Benji,” I say seductively, my hand sliding down his stomach and into the waistband of his jeans.

  “Anything for you,” he murmurs, both of us eager now.

  And I’m once again telling him to hurry, but this time, it’s not because I’m freezing.

  We walk in, both of us desperate for each other and I’m peeling my clothes off as I make my way upstairs. Benji is behind me and when I look back, he’s shirtless already. I can’t control the impulse I have to stop where I am and forget the bedroom. I kick my pants off and as if Benji can see my urgency, he loses his too. We meet halfway on the stairs and his mouth collides with mine; both of us in need and I wonder if it will always be this way.

  He’s standing on the stair below me, his mouth level with mine and I can’t stop kissing him. This is the way we were meant to be and as he takes me in his arms, I know there’s no place else I want to be. I want to be with him forever. This is our second chance.

  In his arms, Benji’s mouth on my neck, he walks us carefully up the stairs and into the bedroom until I’m on the bed. I watch his beautiful body cover mine and he silently enters me as I whisper, “Make love to me.” And in the quiet stillness of the bedroom, dark and peaceful, he does just that.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The next morning comes far too soon and I know there’s no way I’m going to get Benji to stay away from work for another day. He’s still asleep, our arms and legs are tangled together and even though I’m warm, I can’t bring myself to pull away from him. I also know I have to go back to Chicago eventually. I can’t keep avoiding my life there; I told Jack it would be just a few days I would be absent. I need to go back and break the news to him that I won’t be coming back permanently.

  I press my nose to Benji’s chest, taking in his smell as he stirs in my arms.

  “I love waking up with you in my bed,” he mumbles, still tired.

  “I do too, but I hate to be the bearer of bad news. I really have to go back to Chicago and talk with Jack, take care of everything.”

  I still can’t believe I’m about to do this. Benji lives in the middle of nowhere and I’m about to quit my job, rely solely on him for support, and hope that nothing will go wrong.

  Nothing will go wrong.

  I need to stop being so pessimistic about life, about everything. There’s a reason we found each other again. It was never over in the first place. We were meant to be together.

  “Can you at least give me until noon?” Benji asks, his words pleading and I can’t say no to him. I’ve never been able to say no to him, which is why I left all those years ago without telling him. “I’ll go to work after you leave.”

  “Okay,” I answer, and he pulls me closer to him. It hasn’t been that long, only a few days, but I don’t know how I’m going to sleep at night without him next to me. I’ve already grown used to the smell and the warmth of his skin near me, soothing me and making me feel safe. I don’t want to leave.

  “Anyway, you can’t leave yet, your coat is still wet and I’m guessing it’s now smelly since we’ve left it in a heap on the floor.”

  I laugh at him, knowing he’s just looking for an excuse to make me stay.

  “Fine, how about you go throw my coat in the washer and I’ll make us some coffee?”

  “No,” he responds immediately, and I push up on my elbow so I can look at him. He’s smiling as he says, “I’ll go put your coat in the washer and make the coffee. You stay here in my bed, naked and waiting for me.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” I say, smiling back as I lean down and kiss him.

  I fall back on the bed as I watch Benji pull on a pair of sweats and head downstairs. I listen to his feet trudge down the stairs until he reaches the kitchen and starts the coffee pot. I can’t imagine anything being as perfect as this moment.

  A few minutes pass and he still hasn’t returned. I’m growing anxious waiting for him and even though I told him I’d wait for him in bed, I throw on his t-shirt, the smell covering me as I slip it over my head and make my way downstairs.

  “Benji,”
I call out when I don’t find him in the kitchen, and I get no response. I call again as I begin to search the house. Going toward the back, I find him in the laundry room, my jacket in one hand and a piece of paper in the other.

  Tommy’s letter.

  The moment I lay eyes on it, I stop breathing, my heart breaking in my chest as I try to find the words to explain myself. And when I finally tear my eyes away from his hand, I’m met with a look on his face that not only says he’s confused but hurt and angry too. The letter is crumpled in his grasp, his mouth set in a firm line as he looks at me with wide questioning eyes.

  “What is this?” he asks, and I say nothing, just staring at him wondering what to say, wondering how to explain myself, how to explain it all. “Campbell, what the fuck is this?” he asks again, this time harsh and accusing.

  “It’s a letter,” I say meekly, and it only adds to his anger.

  “I can fucking see that!” he screams, and I startle at the tone of his voice, all of this reminiscent of the accident, the way he spoke to me, the way it made me feel back then.

  “He’s dead, isn’t he?” Benji asks, but although his tone is still laced with anger, I see the sadness in his eyes. I nod my head and he pulls his hand through his hair as his chest heaves with each breath he takes. “We said no more secrets. You kept this from me, Campbell.” The hurt seeps through into his words as he clenches his teeth.

  “I… I…” I can’t even begin to figure out where to start. It wasn’t supposed to go down this way. I was going to tell him, but after everything we had been through, I was struggling to break the news to him that someone else died, that we’d lost someone else we both loved.

  “Fuck!” he screams, and now I’m crying. “Say something, Campbell.”

  “I didn’t want to hurt you,” I sob. “I never wanted to hurt you…”

  “It’s too late for that,” he says, my letter clutched in his hand as he pushes past me. I reach out and he avoids me, moving farther away.

  “Benji, please,” I beg and he says nothing, just disappears into the other room. I follow him and when he turns around, he’s still furious with me, but more than that he’s hurt by what I’ve done and what’s happened. We can’t keep pushing each other away. We can’t keep running from this, but that’s exactly what he does.

  He’s pulling on a pair of boots and a sweatshirt that was left on a chair as I try to figure out what to say next.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, trying to keep my voice even, but the shakiness and the worry come through. I can’t lose him again. This time it will kill me.

  “See, Campbell, you made me believe you came back because of us, because you wanted what we used to have, that you loved me. And I fucking find this.”

  He holds up my letter, all tattered and taped back together. I know how this looks to him and while Tommy’s letter was the catalyst I needed to find Benji, it was not the reason I stayed or the reason I found myself falling back in love with him. I’ve always loved him.

  “Guilt made you come back. This fucking letter made you come back,” he hisses and again the tears begin to fall.

  “No,” I cry. “It wasn’t like that.” But right now, it doesn’t matter what I say, he’s furious with me and I’m sure if I were in his situation, I’d feel the same way: used, misled, and hurt.

  He doesn’t give me an opportunity to explain, even though I feel like after he told me he loved me, and knowing the way I feel about him, I deserve his time, deserve to have him hear me out. Instead, he leaves out the back door, and as I chase him outside, my feet bare, wearing just Benji’s t-shirt, the snow and cold air stings my skin.

  I stand, freezing, as I watch him turn around and glare at me. “I can’t be here with you, Campbell,” he growls, and he gets in his truck and drives away, leaving me brokenhearted and devastated.

  I’m not sure what I expected to happen, but after everything that went on between us over the last few days, I thought we would endure this together, that we were over shutting each other out. This is the Benji I ran from all those years ago and after letting him back in, I won’t make that mistake again.

  My chest aching and the tears pouring from my eyes, I head back in and gather my things. I won’t be here to have him scream at me when he gets back. This is why I stayed gone and why I shut everyone out. It left me emotionless and right now, after what I’m feeling and what just happened, I regret ever coming here.

  I’m ready to go in just under a few minutes, tossing on my clothes and shoving everything into my suitcase, but as I head to the front door, everything in me is screaming to stay, but with my heart breaking, I leave Benji a note.

  B-

  I love you. I’ve always loved you.

  -C

  I take my suitcase out to the car and as I’m putting it in my trunk, Alex pulls in next to me. As he gets out of his car I mumble, “He’s not here.”

  “Is he at the shop?” he asks, clueless as to what has just happened.

  “No,” I answer sharply, and when he takes in my face, obvious I’ve been crying, he stops in front of me.

  “Campbell, what happened?” he asks, the concern flooding his words.

  “Nothing,” I answer back as I get in my car, my eyes falling to Alex’s hand, a flash of white catching my gaze as I close the door and say nothing more.

  I can’t put myself through this again and although I’ve been happier than I’ve been in years, this pain is more than I can handle. I need to forget I ever came here, I need to forget Benji, but the stupid part of me still loves him.

  Too much.

  And as I drive away, all I can think is maybe this is the end of it all.

  Chapter Twenty

  It’s after six when I finally arrive home, yet I still drive straight to my office. It’s the one place where this life doesn’t exist and I can lose myself in all the work that I know is waiting for me. It’s my distraction and I need it in order to keep going.

  Everything hurts as if I’ve been forced to run for days without stopping. It hurts to breathe, my legs and arms aching as my chest feels tight, like it’s closing in on me. It’s stifling and painful, and far too real for me to focus on. I need it all to end.

  I’m not sure what’s worse, my memories of the weeks after the accident and my remembrance of walking away from Benji, or having it all happen a second time. It’s like a horrible living nightmare that won’t stop, and I can’t imagine what it’s going to be like when I go to bed tonight.

  Jack’s car is still in the parking garage when I pull into my spot and for some reason it pisses me off. I think right now anything would piss me off. I park and take the elevator up to the office, hoping that for some reason, he happens to not realize I’m back. But of course that fails miserably as soon as the elevator door opens.

  I come face to face with Jack as he stands in the lobby of the office waiting for the next elevator. The doors open, but he’s looking down and when he looks up, his eyes grow wide.

  “You look like shit,” he says immediately.

  “Fuck off,” I reply back and shove past him, heading for my office.

  I hear his footsteps following me before he says anything else. The sound of them scraping along the carpet and then clicking when we hit the tile floor that leads to the office. I focus on the sound so I can drown out the thoughts that are running through my head.

  How am I going to explain anything to him when I can’t even explain it to myself?

  “Campbell,” Jack calls, as I reach my office. “I have no idea what’s going on and you’ve told me not to ask, so I won’t. I just need to know, is this one of those times when you want me here or should I just leave?”

  I look up at him, my eyes dry and itchy from crying and as much as I want to unload everything right now, I can’t. I just can’t do it.

  “Go away, Jack,” I say emotionless, yet barely holding on. “I’ll be back at work tomorrow. Regular time.”

  He stares at me for another minu
te before shaking his head and leaving my office.

  A long breath escapes my mouth as I collapse in my desk chair, done with this day, done with trying to figure out where things went wrong, not just with today, but with my life. It’s all a fucking mess that just keeps getting worse.

  I pour myself into researching several companies Jack had asked me to look into before I left, allowing them to consume my thoughts, taking excessive notes and making a plan for the three I was able to get through.

  It’s well after midnight but I’m not even slightly tired. I should be exhausted by now and because of that, I decide to head home. Back to my home, the one I planned to leave behind just a few hours ago. I wasn’t going to come back to this life; the one where I live miserable and lonely, shutting down and only carrying on because my body just won’t fucking give up. But I have no other option. I’ll bury everything and continue to lie to everyone around me that my life is normal, that the way I live and the way I feel is completely normal, but deep down I’m only lying to myself.

  How much longer can I go on like this? I think, as I pull in my garage, especially after the last few days I spent with Benji. The reminder of what it felt like to be truly happy is almost worse than the nine years I spent living a lie. And even worse than what I’m feeling now, is the thought of being alone, again. I hate that I long to be touched by him, to be held and comforted and made to feel safe…made to feel loved. I miss him so much more than I ever thought possible. The pain of it all is so unbelievably unending and crippling.

  I walk in and find the mess that was left by Carson and I run my hand through my hair. This is the last fucking thing I want to deal with, but I also don’t want his shit in my house. I don’t want anyone in my house ever again. I want to get back to what it feels like to live numb and detached.

  The only saving grace of it is, that it’s a distraction, packing Carson’s things is. If I stay awake, it can’t haunt my dreams, the accident, Tommy dying, my letter, and losing Benji a second time. If I don’t sleep, it won’t torment me.