18. Can’t Stay Away
18
Can’t Stay Away
The drive was a quiet one. I stared out the window, watching the scenery blur by without really seeing it. I was almost surprised when the car pulled to a stop, not in my driveway, but in Ben’s.
“I know you said home,” Ben said as he shut down the engine. “But your mom doesn’t know where I live.”
I nodded. “This is good. Thanks.”
I unbuckled my seatbelt, and Ben jumped out of the car and rounded the nose to my side before I had a chance to open the door. He took it upon himself to open it for me, then tried to pick me up.
“Cool your tots, there.” I waved him away. “I’m not some damsel in distress. I can—”
“You dropped your cane,” he reminded me, and my stomach sank. “Just let me help.”
“Fine,” I muttered before allowing Ben to help me out of the car, then hoist me into his arms once again. “You just like carrying me around.”
He smiled but didn’t comment as he carried me through the garage.
“Don’t drop me,” I squeaked, tightening my arms around his neck as he shouldered the door to the mudroom open and carried me inside.
“Don’t you trust me?” His tone was playful, but the words packed a punch.
Did I? He’d cheated on me. He’d lied to me. He’d hurt me. Yet I trusted him with my life, anyway. Maybe we would never be what we once were, but he would always be my best friend, my protector, my Ben.
“Yes, I trust you,” I whispered as he set me down on my feet.
His eyes met mine for a never-ending moment, and something weighty passed between us. He swallowed hard, and warmth crept up my neck and teased my cheeks.
“Let me get your shoes off,” he said, and the moment flitted away.
Dropping to one knee, he helped me out of my shoes before he set his own on the shoe rack. With a firm grasp on my arm, he helped me down the stairs, my leg shaking by the time we hit the landing.
“I hate stairs,” I grumbled, and Ben chuckled as he proceeded to, once again, pick me up. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
“Can you get the door?” he asked as he stopped in front of his room.
I grasped the doorknob and turned, pushing the door open so he could carry me inside. The room hadn’t changed, and I was assaulted by his familiar scent and all the memories we’d made here.
My stomach trembled.
He sat me on the edge of his bed, then tugged on the end of my tie. “You look good all dressed up. Have I told you that?”
I snorted. “Ties are stupid.” He was wearing the suit he’d worn for winter dance with a white shirt and a blue tie. I motioned to his outfit. “You look nice too.”
“Thanks.” Reaching up, he loosened his tie, then shrugged off his blazer. “You okay?”
With a sullen shrug, I yanked at the stupid tie around my own neck. “Dunno. I just saw my mother for the first time in six years. At my father’s funeral. I’m not exactly sure how I’m supposed to feel about that.”
“I don’t think there’s a cheat sheet,” he said carefully. “Feel however you feel.”
“Pissed. Confused.” I fisted my hands on my thighs. “And somehow numb.”
A shudder wracked through me as Ben placed a hand on the top of my head and caressed my hair. “I’m sorry.”
“Why is she here?”
“Paying her respects?” he offered, and I scoffed.
“Yeah, because she’s spent the last six years giving a shit.”
“I—”
“Probably here for the life insurance money,” I muttered.
Ben grimaced but didn’t reply. His hand dropped from my head as he backed up and leaned against the end of his pool table, arms crossed over his chest. I picked at the scabs on my palm.
“Can we take a nap?” I asked.
He sighed. “Yeah, Si, we can take a nap.”
Helping me to stand, Ben busied himself with removing my tie, dropping it to the carpet. We held eye contact as he unbuttoned my dress shirt, and I shivered when his fingers grazed my bare shoulders as he pushed the shirt down my arms. It fell to the floor with a soft rustle.
My fingers shook as they lifted to finish loosening his own tie. It slid from around his neck, joining mine on the floor. His breathing thickened as I unbuttoned his shirt and removed it like he’d removed mine. We were both in our undershirts now, and I eyed his belt like it had a hidden bomb attached to it.
“What are we doing?” I asked as Ben fingered the hem of my undershirt.
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I just…”
“You just?” I prompted as I stepped closer, our toes touching.
“I can’t stay away. I don’t want to stay away.” His palms spanned my waist, his touch gentle and cautious. “Please, don’t make me go away again.”
“I don’t want you to go away,” I admitted, and he squeezed his eyes shut, inhaling sharply. “Stay with me.”
“Si—” His voice broke, and I nuzzled his cheek.
“Kiss me,” I whispered against the corner of his mouth.
My heart broke when he shook his head. “You’re injured. You’re on pain meds. You just buried your dad.”
Cupping his cheek, I forced him to look at me. “Do you love me?”
He almost looked offended. “You know I do.”
“Then kiss me.”
“And after?” he asked as our noses brushed. “I can’t lose you again. I’m not strong enough for that.”
“You won’t,” I promised. “Everything’s fucked up. But not this, not you. You’re the only thing that makes sense.”
He framed my face with his hands, his eyes glossing with emotion. “I’m not going anywhere. Even if all we are is this. Just… this. You don’t need to give me more to make me stay.”
“I love you,” I said, and his bottom lip quivered. “I miss you. And I love you. And I just—can we be boyfriends again? Could we just be—”
His lips cut me off, slotting against mine like they were made for me. I fisted my hands in his undershirt as he kissed me. He tasted like spearmint and home, and I moaned into his mouth as he kissed me deeper.
When I snaked my hands beneath his shirt, he grunted, his tongue probing at the seam of my mouth. I let him in, and he groaned. His skin was hot and soft, and I spanned his back under his tank top.
My leg started to shake, and my hip ached, but I didn’t want this to end. Ever. So, I swallowed the pain as Ben kissed me like a dying man. Of course, when he grabbed my hip to haul me closer, I broke our kiss with a yelp.
“Fuck,” he cursed, guiding me to the bed. “Sorry, I forgot. I—are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I dismissed the discomfort as I tried to drag him down to kiss me again. “Just keep kissing me.”
Unfortunately, Ben was a gentleman, and he disentangled us, stepping away. “You’re hurt.”
“I’m not hurt,” I said, barely curbing the frustration in my voice. “I can—”
“We shouldn’t do this.” He raked a hand through his curls. “We need to talk first, and you’re still healing.”
“Stop being responsible. Be a horny teenager for once and take off your pants!” I ordered, and he laughed. He laughed . “Stop laughing. More stripping.”
“We’re not having sex,” he said around his chuckles.
“Why?” I whined like a child, not even remotely embarrassed. “Sex is always the answer.”
Ben shook his head. “Sex is never the answer.”
“Ben!”
With another laugh, he bent and pressed a sweet kiss to my lips. “I love you, and I’m not going anywhere. We have time.”
“Do we?” I touched the laceration above my ear, and his smile pinched.
“Yes. And we have things to talk—”
“I don’t want to talk.” I pouted.
He kissed my brow lightly. “Once you’re better, when you’re not on heavy pain meds, we’ll talk about this, okay? And if you still want to have sex, then you won’t hear a single complaint from me.”
Our foreheads met, and we shared the next several breaths.
“Is it ’cause of”—I waved at my head and the bruises under my shirt—“this?”
I was bruised and cut up. I could barely walk. I couldn’t blame him for not wanting to fuck me when I looked like this.
“Not the way you mean,” he said. “I refuse to hurt you or compromise your recovery just to get off. I want you, more than you know, but I’m going to take care of you first.”
“Because you love me,” I said, and he nodded, even though it wasn’t a question.
“Because I love you.”
“I love you too.” My eyes welled, and I sniffled. “Fuck, maybe you’re right about my meds. Stupid things make me cry all the time.”
“Let’s lay down. Take a nap. You’ll feel better.” He planted kisses down the length of my neck.
I hummed. “Only if you nap with me.”
“I’m sure I can manage that,” he teased, and I chuckled as I scooted back on the bed.
I unbuttoned my jeans, and Ben helped me tug them off before he let his own slacks drop to the floor.
Stepping out of them, he followed me onto the mattress, pulling back the covers so we could both burrow beneath them. Lying on my side wasn’t the most comfortable, so I lay on my back as Ben cuddled against my good side. His head was a pleasant weight on my shoulder, and I twined my fingers with his, our hands on my stomach.
“I’m sorry,” I said into the shadowed room, and Ben’s fingers in my grasp spasmed.
“For what?”
“Lots of things.” I nosed at his hair, inhaling his Irish Spring soap. “The things I said to you. How I treated you. I was the world’s biggest asshole.”
“We don’t have to talk about it right now,” he said, voice and body tense.
“Well, we’re not fucking so might as well talk.”
At that, Ben snorted unattractively. “We’re supposed to be sleeping.”
“Right. Sleeping. Sorry.”
With a long sigh, he tilted his head and kissed my jaw. “First sleep. Then we’ll talk. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Sleep was easy to find, especially with Ben’s warmth curled around me. I was unconscious within minutes. I dreamed of thick sleet beating against the windshield. I dreamed of the familiar weight of my father’s hand on my shoulder. I dreamed of him screaming my name as metal screeched.
The world tipped and spun, and everything hurt. God, everything hurt , and—
“Silas.”
I woke with a jolt, skin clammy, a cold sweat slicking the back of my neck. Ben hovered over me, hand on my chest. He was holding me down as I struggled to sit up, and pain crackled from my hip down my leg. The walls were closing in, and my dad was screaming my name.
“Silas, breathe. You need to calm down. It was just a dream.”
Half lying on top of me, he embraced me, guiding my face against his neck, and I clung to him as I gasped through the panic seizing my chest. His voice was soothing and calm, anchoring me, and my breathing eased into a more controlled rhythm. When the ache in my bones was stronger than my irrational fear, I relaxed into the bed and delved my fingers through Ben’s hair.
“You good?” he asked hoarsely against my cheek.
I nodded. “Just a bad dream.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’ll be fine.” I traced the prickly five o’clock shadow sprinkling Ben’s jaw. “Sorry for waking you.”
With an eye roll, he shook his head. “I’ve been awake. Your brother called and—”
“What did he want?”
“Making sure you were here with me and not MIA,” he said. “He wanted to talk to you, but I told him you were finally asleep and that you’d call him back later.”
“Did he say anything about my mom?” I didn’t really want to know, but I couldn’t ignore it forever.
Ben cringed. “He said it’s probably best if you stay with me for a bit. Your mom is staying at the house, I guess.”
“What? Where?” Rage washed over me as the answer came to me. “In Dad’s room? She’s in Dad’s room?”
“I, uh, don’t know.”
“What the fuck is Will thinking?” I sat up, ignoring the twinge in my hip. “How could he—”
“He lost your dad too,” Ben said warily, watching me like I was a rabid animal prone to biting. “He’s grieving. He’s scared. In a matter of hours, he was handed full responsibility for your father’s estate and you. Maybe he needs a parent to lean on.”
My heart raced in my chest as my anger found a new target. “She’s not here to be a parent.”
“You don’t know that,” he said.
“You don’t know her,” I snapped.
He held up his hands in surrender, the sheets pooling in his lap as he sat up. “Neither do you. She’s been gone—”
“Yeah! She’s been gone. For six fucking years. And now, she comes back?” I scrubbed my face with my palm. “How convenient that she shows up the moment we’re vulnerable.”
“Or,” Ben tried again, “she’s here to make amends. To help now that you need—”
“I don’t need her!” I said furiously, and his mouth shut with a clack.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m not saying you have to be happy or welcome her back, but you don’t even know why she’s here. You can’t exactly judge her intentions without even talking to her.”
Grinding my teeth, I glared at him. “She left. Without a goodbye. Without—she just left. You don’t know what that feels like.”
He scoffed, his laughter tipped with venom.
My mouth moved, even as my brain shouted for me to stop. “Your mom died; it’s not the same.”
“My mom killed herself, Silas,” Ben said, voice empty. “I know you know. Pat told me.”
And… fuck. Shame replaced the anger. “Ben—”
“My mom chose to leave me too,” he said softly, brokenly. “The only difference between your mom and mine is that your mom can choose to come back.”
Then he turned, stood, and walked determinedly to the bathroom. The door shut quietly behind him, but the soft click rang through the room as if he’d slammed it. And my heart broke all over again.
He didn’t return for a long time. I wanted to go after him, but I wasn’t sure what to say or how to repair the tenuous bonds we’d just started to reinvent. The shower ran, and I found my phone sitting on the side table. I texted Will, letting him know I wasn’t coming home tonight, then turned it off.
Aunt June came down while Ben was in the shower. She propped my cane against the wall next to the door with a sad smile on her face. “Are you boys hungry?”
“I’m not, but I don’t know about Ben.”
She stood in the doorway, wringing her hands. “There are leftovers from the…” she drifted off when I flinched. “I can reheat anything you want if you get hungry.”
“Thanks, Aunt June.”
With a hand on the doorknob, she started to close it, but hesitated on the threshold. “I know this may not be my place, but it’s best if you refrain from strenuous activity until your hip is fully healed.”
I sputtered denials, and she gave me a knowing look. My stammers died on my lips, and I croaked out, “Yes, Aunt June.”
She did her best to hide her amused grin.
As the door shut between us, I fell back onto the bed with a groan. Why were all my parental figures so invested in my sex life? First Dad—oh, ouch. I touched my chest over my heart.
It came and went, this otherworldly pain. The moment my mind drifted to safe territory, something would remind me, and the ache would throb.
When the bathroom door opened, I sat up gingerly and folded my hands in my lap. Amidst a cloud of Irish Spring-scented steam, Ben stepped into the room wearing nothing but a towel hitched around his hips. His eyes were a little bloodshot, his cheeks blotchy. Maybe it was from the heat of the shower, but I had a feeling it wasn’t.
“I’m the biggest asshole,” I said as he met my gaze. “And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I said. It was callous and cruel.”
“Yeah, it was,” he agreed.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t ask him. Patrick. I didn’t ask about her. He just said it, and I didn’t know how to bring it up with you after.” I stared at my lap. “I didn’t want to ask you about her if you weren’t ready to tell me. And then things got shitty, and… I’m so fucking sorry.”
There was a long silence, and I thought he’d finally reached his limit with me. Had his cup of forgiveness run dry at last?
Then he said, “She was sick for a long time. Not physically, at least not always. But she was really sick, and my dad made it worse.”
He didn’t look at me. He didn’t really look anywhere. His stare was clouded with memories and pain, and I wanted to cover my ears with my hands because this story did not have a happy ending.
But I didn’t. I sat and listened because that was what he asked of me. I would give him anything; I would give him everything .
“She saw psychiatrists sometimes, but it was never consistent. Maybe things would have been different if she—it doesn’t matter. She took pills, a lot of them. And sometimes she’d take too many.” He sighed, and it raked through my chest like razor blades. “She took too many most of the time because it numbed her out. Because shit didn’t hurt as bad when she was fucked out of her mind.
“She was an addict, Silas. Just like my dad. Just a different drug, you know? Dad hurt her all the time, and she didn’t… she couldn’t…” His hands were on his hips, his gaze focused on some far-off place as a tear trickled down his cheek. “I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t save her when my dad pushed her around and left bruises on her skin. I couldn’t save her when she was drowning in a darkness with no end. And I couldn’t save her when she bled out in the bathtub.”
I pressed my fist to my mouth to muffle my sob, and Ben closed his eyes, tears falling freely now. “She left me behind. She left me with him . And you know what he told me? He told me the coroner said there were no hesitation marks.
“That doesn’t happen a lot in suicides. They usually hesitate; they have to work up the courage. Because there’s always that base survival instinct fighting. But she didn’t hesitate.” His hands fisted then. “That’s how badly she wanted to die, how strongly she hated her life. That she didn’t fucking hesitate.
“So don’t you dare tell me I don’t know what it’s like. Because I do! And she can’t come back. She can’t change her mind. She’s fucking gone. And I hate her for it. I hate her, Silas, but I miss her too.” He looked at me, and the fury in his eyes undid me. “Don’t. Don’t you cry!”
“Ben—”
He collapsed to his knees before me with a shuddering breath. “Don’t cry for me. I’m not worth it.”
“Don’t say that,” I begged.
“I’m just as bad as him.”
The ugly words I’d spoken to him that night in my living room sprouted between us like thorny vines, and I shook my head. “No, Ben. No, you’re not. You never have been. You’re you, and you’re wonderful.”
“They’d look right through me,” he said. “Like I wasn’t even there.”
“They were wrong,” I said, cupping his face.
“I thought I was invisible.” He gazed up at me, and I’d never seen him look so young and so lost. “Am I invisible, Silas?”
“No, Ben, you’ve never been invisible. Not to me.” I pressed my forehead to his. “You’re the sun. I don’t think it’s possible for me not to see you.”
As he splintered apart before me, I drew him in until his face pressed to my stomach. His arms coiled around me, and his shoulders heaved with every heart-wrenching sob. I draped myself over him, holding him together as best I could.
He’d done it for me more times than I could count. I would do it for him now.
His pieces were safe with me, and when he was ready, I would put him back together again, and we’d both be stronger for it. Because we might have been broken and scarred, but we were not ruined.