6. Separated by Miles
6
Separated by Miles
The weeks before Ben left for California flew by faster than I wanted. If I was being honest with myself, I hated that he was leaving me. He continuously asked if it was okay, if he should cancel his plans, and though I assured him it was fine, bitterness at his abandonment built in my gut.
It wasn’t fair, and I knew it. But like the secret anger I harbored toward him for forcing me to reveal Boyt’s assault, I allowed the bitterness to fester.
But everything was fine. It was!
We were finally having sex again, though always at his house in his room; never at mine. There were no windows in his room, and we felt safe there. We held hands at school and kissed each other goodbye in the theater room when he dropped me off after school.
The musical was only in the beginning stages of planning, but I needed to keep myself busy. Since quitting my job at the library, I had too much time on my hands. Ben had decided to compete at Sectionals to see if he could go on to the state level. He wasn’t personally invested, but I had a feeling he wanted to stay busy the same as me.
If we were always occupied, we could pretend that the legal proceedings didn’t exist. We could pretend we were normal teenagers, working our way to graduation. We could imagine that stalking and revenge porn only existed outside our little world.
Some days were good. Really good. Like the first time we sexted.
It went like this:
Silas: Benjamin, are you trying to sext me?
Ben: Do you want me to sext you?
Silas: Baby, you can sext me whenever you want.
Ben: I’m in the living room with Aunt June! I can’t sext now.
Silas: Psh. What she doesn’t know can’t hurt her. You started this, so don’t back out now. WE ARE SEXTING!
Ben: STOP YELLING! And I don’t think announcing it is a good way to start. That’s not very sexy.
Silas: Sorry… Nudes?
Instead of a dick pic, Ben sent me a picture of bare breasts, and I choked on the drink of water I’d been taking.
Silas: You’re an asshole! I’m forever mentally scarred now!
Ben: Oops, my bad. You didn’t specify what kind of nudes.
Silas: I will have my revenge.
Since I was still pretty horny, I sent him a dick pic which led to him calling me. Which then led to us blundering our way through awkward, but satisfactory phone sex. So yeah, we had good days.
But then there were bad days. Feeling weak and helpless, we’d poke and prod at each other until we fought. I’d say shit I didn’t mean, and Ben would shut down, refusing to talk to me.
He loved me. I loved him. And that love was all-encompassing and strong. But sometimes, I feared we were drowning under the weight of it, neither of us willing to let go of the rocks dragging us into the depths.
Or maybe I was being dramatic.
Perhaps I was only imagining the moments I fucked him just a little too rough because, deep down in the places I kept hidden, I was so fucking angry with him. And maybe I read too much into the way he always let me, like he thought he deserved to be treated that way.
What if we really were toxic? Could I survive letting him go in the hopes we could escape before the poison rotted us from the inside out?
The night before he flew out for the long weekend, Ben packed his suitcase as I sat on his bed and watched. We’d already fucked, and his hair was still a mess, his curls lying in disarray from my fingers. I was pretty sure he’d left divots from his short nails in my back when he’d urged me to fuck him harder.
“I’m gonna miss you,” I said as he closed his suitcase, and he planted his fists on the bed and brushed a light kiss to my lips.
“I’m gonna miss you too. I wish you were coming with me.” He laughed when I wrinkled my nose. “But it’s only three days. I’ll be back Sunday night.”
“I know. I suppose I’ll survive,” I drawled, and he chuckled.
“I’m gonna shower now so I don’t have to in the morning,” he said as he ran a hand through his messy hair. He wore only a pair of low-hanging sweatpants, and I admired the view as he walked to the bathroom. Glancing over his shoulder, he grinned mischievously. “You can join me, you know?”
“How about I grab some sandwiches from upstairs? I’m hungry.” I scooched to the edge of the bed as he shrugged.
“Okay.” He disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door behind him, and a few seconds later, the shower turned on.
Once I’d located my discarded clothes, I tugged up my jeans and slipped my shirt over my head. I was just about to head for the door when a phone trilled. My new phone lay beside Ben’s on his side table, but it was silent and dark. Ben’s screen lit, the ringtone shrill in the quiet room.
I checked the caller I.D., and my heart sank to my toes. Patrick’s name flashed across the screen over the contact photo of him and Ben cheesing at the camera. Irrational jealousy curled in my stomach as I picked up the phone.
The bathroom door was shut, the shower still running. I could have let the call go to voicemail. I should have let the call go to voicemail. But I was an idiot, apparently, because I slid my thumb over the screen to accept the call, bringing the phone to my ear.
“Hello?”
A deep, smooth chuckle rumbled in my ear and I felt the hairs on my arms stand on end at the pleasant sound. “Well, you’re not Ben,” Patrick observed, rich voice sliding over my body deliciously.
Ben’s voice was silk and honey, and I loved it more than anything. But this voice, Patrick’s voice, was fucking indulgent. If I hadn’t already hated this guy with a burning passion, I might have melted from the sound.
Refusing to let it show, I kept my voice flat as I said, “Uh, no. He’s in the shower.”
“Ah, then you must be the boyfriend.”
“I am. And you are?” I feigned ignorance, and he snorted.
“I know Ben’s told you who I am,” he said smugly, and I ground my teeth. “Listen, kid,”— kid? Seriously? He was, like, one year older than me. I knew he’d be a pretentious asshole—“let’s not do this. I’m not here to measure dicks or whatever. Ben’s my friend, and he really likes you. I’m not trying to get in the way of that.”
“What a relief,” I said, voice dripping in sarcasm.
He sighed, like he was an adult in the presence of an immature child. “For what it’s worth, I think it’s big of you to let him come out here for the weekend. We’re all looking forward to seeing him. So, thanks.”
“I’m not letting him do anything. He’s his own person. I’m not going to police what he does or who he talks to.”
“Exactly. Not a lot of guys feel that way. Ben means a lot to me, so I’m glad you’re cool that we’re still friends.”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that, so I said nothing.
“I promise to look after him while he’s out here,” Patrick added after an uncomfortable pause.
The words were innocent enough, but his tone was… smarmy. My hackles rose. “Ben doesn’t need anyone to look after him. He can take care of himself.”
“A good thing too, given what’s happened,” Patrick muttered.
“Excuse me?”
There was a long exhale, then, “It’s not your fault, man. What that Eric guy’s doing is fucked up. So, I don’t mean it like that. It’s just… Ben’s been through a lot, and—”
“I know what he’s been through,” I bit out, and he paused.
“He told you about his mom?” he asked, sounding annoyed.
I tried not to be smug when I said, “Yeah, he told me months ago.”
“Shit,” he breathed. “It took him almost a year to tell me about the suicide.”
That stopped me cold. Suicide? Ben’s mom killed herself?
Unaware of my shock at the revelation, Patrick continued. “I just hate that he’s hurting, you know? He’s been through enough. Not that it’s your fault. It’s never the victim’s fault, no matter what psycho rapists say.”
An odd buzzing filled my ears as he droned on. My lungs constricted as embarrassment and horror filled my chest. Ben had told him about what Boyt had done to me?
“Ben’s gonna have to call you back,” I said as the bathroom door opened.
I didn’t hear Patrick’s reply. I didn’t give him a chance before I hung up the phone.
“Si, are you okay?” Ben approached warily, his towel hitched around his hips. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“You told Patrick?” I accused, and his blue eyes widened.
“Told Patrick what?” he asked, and fury bubbled to life in my veins.
I held up his phone. “Did you tell Patrick about Boyt?”
“Were you going through my phone?” he demanded, his expression hardening. “What the fuck, Silas?”
“Did you tell Patrick about Boyt?” I shouted, and he jumped, taking half a step back.
“Yes,” he said. “Of course, I did. Both he and Cait know.”
His confession landed like a punch to the stomach. “Why?”
Hands on his hips, he gaped at me like I was crazy. “Why wouldn’t I? They’re my friends, and friends tell each other when stalkers share naked pictures of them at school.”
“Not that,” I snarled. “You told him about Boyt and me!”
And oh, Ben paled then. His cheeks went white, and his Adam’s apple jumped. “What do you—”
“You fucking asshole. You had no right.” I chucked his phone at him, and he scrambled to catch it.
“Silas, calm down.” He reached for me, and I staggered back. “Listen to me, okay? I didn’t mean to tell him everything. I needed someone to talk to, and he asked how we knew it was Boyt, and I didn’t know what to say. What else was I supposed to say?”
“Anything! You could have literally told him anything but what you actually did.”
He flinched at my volume, but he didn’t back down. “I didn’t want to lie.”
“You didn’t want to lie?” I repeated stupidly.
He raked his hand through wet hair. “He’s my friend, and—”
“And I’m your boyfriend.”
Irritation colored his face as he clenched his fists. “I needed someone to talk to.”
“You could have talked to me!”
“When?” he shouted back. “I was too busy trying to hold you together. I was trying to be strong for you, and I needed someone to be strong for me.”
Every word sliced through me like a knife until I was riddled with holes to accompany the dagger currently embedded in my back. I’d tried to be there for him, done my best to be strong for him, but the whole time he was seeking comfort with someone else. I was so fucking stupid.
Waving his phone in my direction, his face flushed with anger. “Why the fuck were you going through my phone?”
“Don’t you make this about me,” I hissed.
His mocking laugh was scathing. “Why not? Isn’t everything?”
And like every time we cut and sliced at each other, one of us snapped. This time, it was me.
I charged him, shoving hard enough to have him staggering back. “You self-righteous prick.”
“Don’t push me,” he said so coldly that a sliver of apprehension trickled down my spine.
“I didn’t go through your phone, you lying dick. I just answered when Patrick called, and he filled me in on everything.” I spat the words through clenched teeth, and Ben’s shoulders slumped. “You told your ex my business without asking and purposefully hid it from me.”
“Your business is kind of my business now, don’t you think?”
I blinked. Was he serious? Did he honestly believe that?
“You had no right.” I jabbed him in the chest with my index finger, my hand trembling violently. “That was my life, and you had no fucking right!”
“Your life is my life!” He slapped my hand away as he loomed over me. “I was in those pictures too. That was my life put on display, my body, my privacy! This is not just about you anymore, and you’re selfish to keep assuming that it is.”
“Were you the one in that bathroom? Were you the one behind that stage?” My voice broke, bitter tears flooding my eyes as Ben grimaced. “Because I was sure that it was me, not you.”
Expression stricken, Ben slowly touched his fingertip to the corner of my eye, where a salty teardrop threatened to fall, and a weak part of me wanted to lean into the touch. I wished so much that I could fall against his chest and accept the comfort he so readily offered me. But something between us had broken, and the shards were too dangerous to walk across just yet.
Backing away from his touch, I repeated, “You had no right.”
A suffocating silence blanketed the room as we stood inches apart but separated by miles, and I wanted to scream. I was so angry, so hurt, and yet I had no idea how I was supposed to proceed. This wasn’t like the other times we’d fought; this felt different, much more personal.
“Did you tell anyone else?” I finally broke the stillness, voicing the fear I didn’t really want answered.
“No,” he said firmly. “No, I wouldn’t do that to you. Pat asked during a vulnerable moment, and I was—” His voice cracked, and his chest rose and fell choppily. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. Yeah, me too.” I scrubbed a hand over my face, then exhaled harshly. “Have fun in California, Ben.”
Shoving past him, I stalked toward the door, and he tripped after me. “Silas, wait!” He grabbed my arm, jerking me to a stop. “Don’t leave like this.”
I shook him off, throwing every word at him like a weapon, hoping they tore him up until his insides were as shredded as mine. “I don’t want to hear another word from your lying, backstabbing mouth. I’m fucking done!”
His face went ghostly white, his anger and guilt receding to be replaced with a horror I didn’t understand. “What?”
Turning my back on the blond boy that I loved, I stalked out of the room without answering and sprinted up the stairs. I forgot my coat in his room, but I didn’t go back for it. I shoved my feet into my shoes as Ben yelled at me to wait.
I didn’t wait.
I ran out of the house to my truck, the winter air chilling me to my bones. But I barely felt it. I was numb, even as my heart ripped down the middle.
“Silas!” Ben stumbled out of the house in nothing but a pair of sweatpants. His bare feet slapped against the slush on the pavement as I reached the driver’s door. “Silas, stop!”
He grabbed at me again, and I spun, shoving him away so forcefully he lost his footing and fell back onto the snowy concrete with a pained yelp.
On instinct, I reached for him, as if to help him back to his feet. But I stopped myself, rooting my feet to the ground as I watched him gingerly stand up. Shivering, he wiped his hands on his now-wet sweats.
“Let me go,” I choked out, needing to get away from him before I did or said something I couldn’t take back. “Please, Ben, you need to let me leave.”
His eyes watered, but he didn’t let the tears fall as he studied me with a fearful longing. “Are you leaving me ?”
I knew what he was asking, and my tongue froze, unsure how to answer. I didn’t want to break up—at least I didn’t think I did. I just needed to get away from him. This wasn’t something to push under the rug like it didn’t matter because it did matter. All of it mattered.
His betrayals. My numerous lies. They all mattered.
But not tonight. If I stayed, we’d break for sure.
“I’m leaving your house,” I finally said, the cold seeping past my skin to burrow into my bones, turning my body to ice.
Ben sniffled, wiping his nose as he nodded shortly. “Don’t give up on us,” he whispered, and my heart broke.
“I’ll see you when you get back.” I opened the driver’s door and climbed into my truck. Before I shut the door, I looked over my shoulder and said, “Be safe.”
“I will,” he said.
I shut the door, started my truck, and backed out of the driveway. As I drove away, I refused to check the rear-view mirror. I didn’t want to see Ben’s demolished expression as his house faded into the distance.
With every mile that stretched between us, the pain grew until I had to pull over on the side of the road for fear of crashing; I could no longer see through the tears blurring my vision. I pulled the emergency brake and surrendered to the wave of anger-laced hurt that crashed through me, dismembering my control with every crest as I sobbed.
I’d trusted Ben with everything, with all I was and all I had. Now, I was a life raft cast adrift in an unforgiving sea. I had no anchor, no direction, left to the mercy of the relentless ocean, and I was already taking on water.
I didn’t want to drown.