Crush: An Everyday Heroes Novel (The Everyday Heroes World)

by Kelsie Rae

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I scrape my nails against his back and finally let go of every reservation I have. Every insecurity. Everything. Because this man has me. He knows me. He sees me. And I kind of love it.

  With another low groan, his hands press into my butt to position me however the hell he damn well pleases before he burrows his head into my neck. Then he pulses inside of me and comes.

  “Fuck, Kate––”

  I freeze, my once liquid muscles turning into granite beneath him.

  What did he just say?

  Maybe I misheard him. Maybe he said something else. Maybe I’m imagining things.

  As if in slow motion, I raise my hands from his heated skin, but I don’t say a word as I wait for him to make the next move.

  His forehead is pressed against my shoulder as his back rises and falls in an unsteady rhythm. I can feel his softening cock still buried deep inside me, but he doesn’t move a muscle, which only amplifies my insecurities. The silence suffocates me, and it doesn’t take long before I can’t handle another second of it.

  “W-what did you just call me?” I whisper, praying I’m wrong.

  “Marcy….” His voice sounds like he gargled broken glass, but it does nothing to soothe the ache in my chest.

  “Answer the question.”

  “Marcy––”

  My eyes well with tears. “Answer the freaking question, Ben.”

  “Marce….”

  “Get off me, Ben,” I order, my voice cracking as I push against his solid chest.

  He pushes himself up but doesn’t give me the space I’m desperate for. “Marcy, let me explain.”

  “There’s nothing to explain,” I cry. “I’m just going to need you to leave, okay?”

  “Marcy, please––”

  “Seriously, Ben. I’m about two seconds away from curling into a ball right now. Will you please let me keep an ounce of my dignity and allow me to break down in private? Please,” I beg.

  “Marce––-”

  “Get out of my house, Ben.” My tone is as sharp as a whip and hits him right where I need it to.

  Flinching back, he looks helpless and runs his fingers through his short, wavy hair. It’s an absolute mess and is sticking up in every direction from when I wove my hands through it as I came against his mouth.

  The tears start falling freely. I squeeze my eyes shut to erase the look on his face, but it’s already committed itself to memory.

  “Please,” I beg.

  The familiar rustle of jeans hits in my ears, but I keep my eyes closed until the soft click of my front door confirms that I’m alone.

  And so much more broken than I’ve ever been in my entire life.

  17

  Marcy

  With a pathetic whimper, I inspect my red, puffy eyes in the mirror. I look like absolute shit, which I normally wouldn’t care about. But when I can’t ignore the man who made me look this way any longer, well…that’s a different story. The phone vibrates on the counter, distracting me from my self-loathing before I pick it up and want to cry all over again.

  DRBen918: Hey. Will you be at the photo shoot today? I’ve had a few parents reach out to confirm we’re still on.

  Kill me. Kill me now.

  Marcy123Marcy: Yup.

  DRBen918: Okay. Thanks for finally answering.

  Another buzz.

  DRBen918: I’m sorry, Marcy. Will you please let me explain? I know there isn’t much I can say, but I feel like shit for what happened, and I really want to fix this. Please? This is all my fault.

  Breathing deep, I set the phone down without answering and splash some cold water on my face when my doorbell rings.

  Lovely.

  Used tissues scatter my nightstand from a crappy night of trying to sleep, but I grab a fresh one from the box, then answer the front door.

  “Hey,” I squeak.

  Dylan’s bright smile fades as she takes in the blotches on my face.

  “Shit, Marce. What the hell happened?” She places the car seat on my porch and wraps me in a hug. “Are you okay? Is the baby okay? What’s going on?”

  My eyes squeeze shut as a pathetic laugh escapes me. “Baby’s fine. And physically, I’m fine too. It’s more of the emotional crap that’s wrecking me right now.”

  “About what?” she asks with concern, pulling away to inspect me closer.

  “Umm, you know how Ben and I have been hanging out lately?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well,…things….” I swallow. “Things kind of escalated.”

  “What do you mean? Did you sleep together or something?”

  “Yeah. It just kind of happened, but it felt good. It felt right, ya know? Then, uh, when we were, uh, you know…he called me his wife’s name.”

  Hearing it out loud is like another knife to the heart, and I struggle to keep my emotions in check. I seriously want to curl up in a ball and cry. Again. My lower lip quivers as I push out another slow, less-than-steady breath.

  Dylan doesn’t move a muscle as she digests my comment. And I don’t blame her. It’s not exactly the norm to hear that one of your best friends was called the wrong name during sex by your OB/GYN, whom she’s had a crush on for months.

  Why did things have to get so complicated?

  Tilting her head to the side, Dylan states, “Please tell me I heard you wrong, or so help me, I will call Grady and make him kill Dr. Bennett.”

  “It’s not his fault,” I defend, though I have no idea why.

  Of course, it’s his fault.

  Still, after everything he’s been through, can I blame him? I’m not Kate. I’ll never be Kate. He even warned me when we first started talking that she was the only thing that mattered. And I was the fool that thought I could be enough to change his mind.

  “Can I come in?” Dylan asks. “I can practically hear what you’re telling yourself in your head, and I’ve been there. It sucks. I think it might be good if we talk it out.”

  “Sure.”

  Dylan goes to pick up her little nugget’s car seat as I ask, “Is she sleeping?”

  “Yeah. She fell asleep on the way over here.”

  My shoulders hunch with guilt. “I’m sorry, Dyl. You didn’t have to come.”

  “You weren’t answering my texts. Of course, I had to come,” she counters with a smile. “And don’t apologize. You’re fine. Besides, we love going on field trips.”

  “I’d hardly call a visit to my house a field trip.”

  “You’d be surprised.” Setting the car seat next to the couch in the family room, Dylan plops down onto it then rests her elbows on her knees and orders, “Now, spill.”

  So I do. The non-dates every night after work. The farmer’s markets. The cooking. The moments when I’d find him staring at me with a soft expression that apparently, I completely misread. All of it.

  “Let me get this straight,” Dylan clarifies once I’ve finished spilling my guts. “He came here. He told you that he’s in awe of you.” She pauses and waits for me to confirm her understanding. After I nod, she continues, “Okay. Then he opened up about his wife a little bit. Told you about his day at work. Then he kissed you. Am I right?”

  “Yes?” I shake my head, second-guessing myself. “I don’t know anymore. I’ve replayed the moment a thousand times, and now, I’m questioning everything. He told me he was going to kiss me, and then he told me to help him not overthink it. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but maybe I couldn’t pull him out of his head enough. Maybe––”

  “I’m going to stop you right there, Marcy. What happened is in no way your fault. Do you understand that?”

  “But––”

  “No. No buts. You did nothing wrong. And the pain you’re drowning in right now is not your fault.”

  I shrug, hating all my stupid insecurities that I thought I’d had under control until I was proved very wrong. “Maybe I pushed him, Dylan. I’ve been attracted to him from the very beginning. I offered to do the whole
friends-with-benefits thing, but he turned me down at the last second, and we settled for just friends. And because I’m so damn lonely, I said yes, even though my emotions have been all over the place ever since.” I chew on my thumbnail for a second before admitting the truth, no matter how much it hurts to voice out loud. “I like him, Dyl. I like him a lot. And when I finally gave in to those feelings, it felt really good. It felt like the real deal. And that’s what hurts the most.”

  Pulling me into another hug on the couch, she rubs her hand up and down my back. “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry. What are you going to do?”

  I wiggle out of her grasp and wipe a few more tears from beneath my eyes. “I’m going to just pretend it never happened. I think that’s probably the only route I can go right now because we have the baby photo shoot later today, and I’ll have to face him.”

  Her face falls. “It’s today?”

  “Yup.”

  “Do you want me to come?”

  Shaking my head, I steel my resolve. “No. It’s okay. Thank you, though. I appreciate your support.”

  “And you have it,” she replies. “I’ll be here for the next few months to write a few more songs before heading back to LA to record them, so don’t hesitate to reach out next time, okay?”

  “I won’t. I just felt bad. You have your new baby and your sweet husband. I didn’t want to be a burden.”

  “You’re not a burden––”

  “I’m always a burden,” I correct her.

  “You’re not,” she insists before mumbling under her breath, “I seriously am going to kill Ben.”

  “Don’t. It’s fine. I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

  “You’re not fine, but you will be. And…if you decide to cut him a little slack, I think that’s okay too. Not because he isn’t an ass, but because he’s kind of a broken ass who’s only living with half his heart, and I think that would be really hard.”

  “I know,” I whisper. “Now, let me hold your little nugget. I need someone to put a smile on my face, and she’s the perfect candidate for the job.”

  Grinning, Dylan pulls out the most perfect little baby I’ve ever seen and places her in my arms. “Deal.”

  18

  Marcy

  “Hello?” I answer my phone while juggling my keys and locking the door. My car is already packed to the gills with backdrops, lightboxes, a few props, and my camera, but if I don’t hurry, I’ll still wind up late to the photo shoot which will make me even more embarrassed around a certain someone, and I really don’t need the added humiliation.

  “Hello?” the voice returns. “Is this Marcy? Marcy Holden?”

  I hesitate. “Yes? That’s me. Are you calling about photography services?”

  “No.” There’s a long pause, and I check to see if the call is still connected. It is.

  “Okay…how can I help you?” I ask.

  Another pause. “Okay, I’m going to be completely honest with you right now. This is Krista, Ben’s sister-in-law. We met at Ben’s house a few months ago?”

  My steps screech to a halt. “Excuse me?”

  “I found your number through your photography website, and I know that I’m totally overstepping my bounds, but I was wondering if we could chat for a minute?”

  “Umm….” Clearing my throat, I open the driver’s side door, then start my car and pull onto the main road. Once my phone connects with the Bluetooth speaker, I mutter, “Sure? I guess?”

  “Okay, thanks.” She sighs, preparing herself for what I have no doubt will be a very awkward conversation. Still, I’m curious enough not to hang up the phone and wait to see what she has to say. “I didn’t really know how else to reach out, but I’m kind of a mama bear and don’t always know how to keep my nose out of my family’s life, and even though Ben might kill me, I knew that if I didn’t call you, I’d regret it for the rest of my life.”

  My grip tightens around the steering wheel, but I stay silent and wait for her to continue.

  “You need to know something about Ben. He’s…well he’s a pretty private guy. And when my sister died, he basically buried himself in work and closed off all of his emotions. He never talked to anybody and never really acknowledged the fact that his wife––my sister––is gone. The other day, though…he showed up on my doorstep and lost his shit in a way that I’ve never witnessed before. He looked more helpless than I’d ever seen him, and I have you to thank you for that.”

  “Thank?” I laugh while my throat closes with unshed tears.

  “I know, right? Probably seems like a poor word choice, but I don’t really know how else to describe it. He’d been going about his day-to-day life like a numb zombie, but something woke him up, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on it until he finally told me what happened. You woke him up, Marcy.”

  “No offense, Krista, but I think you’re mistaken. I’m just another girl to him.”

  “No offense, Marcy, but I think you’re the one who’s mistaken,” she replies gently. “He’s slept with a lot of women since Kate died. Like…a lot. We didn’t ever really talk about it, but I knew. He’d always shut me out for a few weeks afterward like he felt guilty or something. I don’t think he’s ever felt anything during any of those encounters, though. If anything, they fed the numbness, blanketing him with that blissful novocaine that could keep him living in a world where he didn’t have to face the truth. That the love of his life was buried in the ground.”

  It’s as if she just twisted the knife in my chest, making it hard for me to breathe.

  “I don’t know why you’re telling me this,” I choke out.

  She sighs. “Look, I know he doesn’t deserve it, but I’m asking you to give him another chance. I’m begging you to,” she clarifies. “He feels something for you. I know it. Something real. And something scary for a guy like him because he was sure he’d never feel that kind of connection ever again. But he does feel it. With you.”

  “And what if you’re wrong?” I whisper.

  “Maybe I am. All I know is that he’s hurting. He’s hurting bad. And the only thing that I can think of to fix it is for you to forgive him for one of the biggest mistakes a guy could ever make.”

  Ya think? I want to shout, but I bite my tongue before finally admitting my greatest fear while vowing not to let it come to fruition.

  “Krista, I’m not going to live in your sister’s shadow.”

  “I wouldn’t expect you to. But I would like to think you’d give the guy a little grace while he figures out how to let one girl go in order to hold onto another one.”

  Shiiit.

  When she puts it like that…I don’t even know what to think. Is she right? Does he deserve my forgiveness? Could he actually feel something for me?

  Blinking back tears, I check the time on the clock and notice I’m going to be late if I don’t get out of this freaking car and face the guy who’s occupied all of my thoughts since my first doctor’s appointment.

  “I have to go,” I mutter while turning off the ignition.

  “I understand. If you ever want to talk, or if you ever want me to try to explain where he’s coming from when he can’t…you know who to call.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Okay. Thanks for letting me take a few minutes of your time. I’ll talk to you later, Marcy.”

  “Yup. Bye, Krista.”

  “See ya.”

  Then I hang up and stare at the looming warehouse in front of me.

  How the hell am I going to face him again?

  My hands are shaking as I snap another picture to test the lighting before I scroll through the handful of images and tweak the white balance a little more. Vision blurry, I keep staring at the screen on my camera even though I don’t register a damn thing. My heart is racing. I can feel him watching me, but he’s kept his distance since I showed up thirty minutes ago to set up the backdrop.

  The soft scuff of his loafers against the concrete of the warehouse makes me hold my
breath as he strides toward me.

  “Hey, Marce?” he murmurs, trying to keep his tone light. But there’s an underlying edge that hints he’s just as anxious as I am.

  Good.

  For some reason, it seems to settle my nerves long enough for me to glance in his direction.

  “Yeah?”

  “Almost everyone is here.”

  “Okay.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  I blink slowly and try to wrangle in my emotions. “Nope.” My voice cracks, but I cover it with a fake cough. “I got it.”

  Stepping a little closer, he whispers, “You sure?”

  “Yup. You can even leave if you want to. I mean, I know that you’re busy and stuff. I can take care of everything here and just, you know, email you the final pictures.”

  Freezing at my suggestion, he rocks back on his heels then hooks his thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll go grab the first model. Then I’ll be out of your hair.”

  I nod, ignoring the surprise and hint of pain in his expression as I give him my back and snap another picture of the blank bubblegum pink backdrop.

  A sweet coo from behind distracts me from my mess of emotions a few minutes later, and I grab onto the opportunity with both hands. The sweetest little baby girl with a giant gummy grin stares back at me as I greet the first family that Ben sent my way.

  “Hi! I’m Marcy.”

  “Hey. I’m Connie,” replies a woman around my age with soft brown hair and a kind smile. “This is Grace.”

  “Aww, nice to meet you, Grace.” I raise my hand to the baby, and she grabs onto it with her tiny fist before trying to pull it toward her mouth.

  For the first time since my disastrous night with Ben, a genuine smile tugs at the corner of my mouth.

  “She’s the sweetest thing ever!” I gush. “Come on over, and we’ll get started.”

  It doesn’t take long for me to get into the zone and forget all the pain from the week before. This is where I belong––behind a camera, capturing moments and memories and smiles and cries and every emotion in between. Snapping picture after picture, the weight on my soul begins to lessen until I shake Emerson’s and Grant’s hands a couple of hours later.