How to Align the Stars

Chapter Fifteen

Heron

Heron didn’t think she could possibly sleep, but emotional exhaustion, extra drowsiness from the meds, and the safe quiet of Bea’s guest room conspired to send her into bleary oblivion. She woke up filmed with sweat and vaguely aware of a dream in which she searched for someone in an airport, the crowd always keeping her away just as she spotted them. At least she rested until morning. She had a strange sense of deja vu from having slept in this room the night before the shower, but this was the nightmare version of the previous day: her pretty floral dress thrown carelessly across the chair instead of hung fresh on the closet door, her head pounding with tension instead of lightly fuzzy from the cocktails she’d had with Bea during their pre-shower movie night, an overwhelming sense of dread and doubt instead of joyful anticipation. The details of what had transpired came back gradually as she showered and dressed, along with her plan for what she would do.

By the time she was ready to go, resolutely descending the stairs with her backpack, Bea was in the kitchen.

“Hold it right there, missy. You’re not going anywhere until you eat a little something.”

She felt like her stomach was full of wet, rotten leaves. But she was also a little lightheaded and shaky, and the eggs and toast Bea was setting on the table looked good. The smell woke up her appetite and she felt like she could probably manage a little. She sat and took a small bite.

“Thank you, Bea. For this, and for everything yesterday. It’s just a big misunderstanding, but I’m sorry it ruined the nice party you threw for me.”

Bea ripped her own bread crust into tiny pieces before she said, “Heron, have you…thought about how you feel about what Charlie did yesterday?”

“What do you mean? Charlie is as much a victim here as I am. I’m sure Jason tricked him, just like he manipulated Bryant.”

“I think so too, but Charlie could have talked to you privately. That boy put a lot of effort into that video.”

Heron put her fork down. The ball of rotten vegetation was creeping out of her stomach, up her throat and out into her limbs, making them feel numb and heavy.

“He was hurt, Bea. Anyone would be. You have to think about how all that would have looked to Charlie.”

“So, you’re just going to smooth everything over?”

“Yes.” Heron was baffled. What else would she do? “Obviously.”

Her phone sat on Bea’s kitchen table, and she picked it up. The screen was black and she thought she’d have to ask Bea for a charger, but when she pushed the button, it lit up. When the screen came to life, a message from Charlie appeared on the home screen. It said only, “Okay.”

Confused, Heron clicked through to see the conversation. Blood rushed into her face, warming her cheeks. She held the screen towards Bea, “Why would you do this?”

Guilt washed over Bea’s face. “Well, you weren’t okay, were you? I thought he should know that.”

“What the hell, Bea?”

Bea sat. “I’m sorry, Bird. That was rash but it’s better than he deserves.” She squinted at the screen, still open to their conversation.

Heron stood up, putting the phone in her pocket. “I’m going over there now. He must be worried sick.”

“Finish your breakfast first. You need to eat something.”

Heron pushed her chair in too hard, rattling the breakfast dishes. “Why don’t you let me decide what I need, Bea, okay? I need to see my fiancé and make sure you didn’t make this mess bigger.”

“Let me at least give you a ride.”

“No thanks. I need the walk.” Anticipation thrummed through her body. She wished she could skip ahead to the part where she and Charlie had already made up, put the awkwardness behind them.

Bea sighed. “Okay. Call me if you need anything.”

At first, the walk across campus felt good. Crisp spring air filling her lungs, the exercise burning away the energy from her nerves and anger at Bea. Heron looked around, steadying her nerves by taking note of the springtime campus: ducks playing in the pond; daffodils blooming in sunny bunches near the benches and sculptures dotting the quad; some of her fellow students already outside enjoying the warm weather. But she also noticed a few long glances from a group of students standing in a cluster near the library. One of the girls walking toward her swiveled her head Heron’s direction as they passed on the path. She saw a trio of students clustered in a window of the first-year dorm, staring at her.

Heron’s brisk walking pace wasn’t enough to outrun the adrenaline running through her limbs. Maybe it was paranoia, her fight-or-flight heightened from yesterday’s shock and alert to every potential threat, but she felt certain people were paying more attention to her than they normally would. The Messiman rumor mill had likely churned away overnight, descriptions of the scene at the shower making the rounds at the Saturday night parties. Her heart pounded and she was dizzy, but she forced herself to slow, focus on her breathing. Word got around campus fast, but that could work in their favor. Wouldn’t the truth spread just as quickly?

The SOD house was quiet when she arrived, but the back door was unlocked. She let herself in and tiptoed up the back stairs, crossing her fingers she wouldn’t run into anyone before she got to Charlie’s room.

Her luck held, and she eased the door open, closing it behind her with a dull thump. Charlie was still in bed. She bet he was up late worrying about her. Beer cans and a tequila bottle littered the floor. The room smelled sour. A stubby tripod was still set up on Charlie’s desk in front of the window, though the camera was gone. Charlie didn’t own a tripod, Heron knew. This one must be Jason’s. How helpful.

She sat on the edge of the bed and placed a hand lightly on Charlie’s bicep. He cracked his eyes open, then shook her off and sat up.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hey. What do you want?”

“I wanted to let you know I’m okay. A little tired and shaken up, but I’m fine.”

“Yeah. I can see that.” He rolled over to face the wall.

She didn’t know what she expected, but it wasn’t this. Maybe he didn’t understand.

“I was really okay, I just needed some rest and to see you. Bea just wanted to make you worry. You were worried, weren’t you?”

Heron gently touched Charlie in the way she knew he liked, his shoulder, his hip, trying to reestablish their connection, but he moved away. He wasn’t acting like someone who’d been worried.

She’d woken him up—she should give him some space to stretch, rise, maybe brush his teeth. She stood and was about to sit in his desk chair, but the tripod stopped her short. Maybe it wasn’t rational, but she didn’t want to be anywhere near that thing. She sat at one of the chairs at the table instead, pulling her feet up to hug her knees. Once she was away from the bed, Charlie sat up and swung his feet to the floor, bracing his elbows on his knees, but he didn’t move any closer to her.

“Don’t you think we should talk?” she said.

Charlie dipped his head, running a hand over the back of his skull. “I guess. There’s a lot to sort out.”

“I was thinking about it on the way here, and I think this will all blow over if we get the word out quickly that it was a misunderstanding.”

“Blow over?” Charlie’s eyes bored into her, and his tone was sharp.

Heron stammered, “Well, yeah, didn’t Maggie and Bryant talk to you?”

“They did. Maggie’s a good friend to you, Heron, better than you deserve.”

“What?” Maggie was a good friend, but why was Charlie saying so now? “Wait. Do you not believe her?”

“You know what I realized,” he said, “is that it doesn’t really matter.”

“What?”

“It doesn’t matter, Heron. Whether what I saw Friday night is Maggie and Bork or you and some other guy, whether the video Jason showed me is from four years ago. It doesn’t matter.”

“How can that possibly not matter?” Heron’s panic swelled. “Charlie, I haven’t even looked at anyone else since our first date. I’ve never been anything but faithful to you. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I love you.”

She unwound her arms from around her knees, wanting to go to him, but his demeanor, cold, unyielding, had her frozen in the chair. There wasn’t a trace of her Charlie in the angry man across the room from her.

“I think I fundamentally misunderstood who you really were, Heron. I thought you were sweet. It was so easy to picture you mothering our children. But now, I’ve seen this different side of you and so has half of campus.”

What? She’d told him all about Dave years ago. Had he just brushed that detail aside until seeing the video made it impossible to ignore?

“You’re the one who showed half of campus.”

“That’s what this did to me, Heron. I won’t be blamed for it.”

Who else was to blame? Jason, but…Jason had only shown Charlie this path. He didn’t have to go down it.

She didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to ask. But she reached a point where the uncertainty and the silence in that sour-smelling room was worse than the answer she knew was coming.

“So, that’s it for us, then? We’re over?”

Charlie’s eyes met hers, glittering and impervious. “What do you think?” But he didn’t give her a chance to answer, continuing, “I can’t be this, Heron. I can’t be some…cuck.”

Her mouth fell open. Who wasthis person?

He continued his rant. “Like I said, it doesn’t matter if it’s true or not. It only matters that it was believable, to me and others. I’m so glad my eyes are open now, and I’m glad, honestly, this all happened before we got married. Christ, can you imagine?”

This whole thing was unimaginable, actually. Heron didn’t trust her voice to respond. Maybe she was still dreaming. Maybe if she didn’t say anything and waited to wake up, it would all go away. A nightmare was the only possible explanation for any of this. But she also couldn’t be in this room anymore, couldn’t stand one more second under the steel of his furious gaze.

She stood to leave.

“Heron?” Charlie said, his voice strained, when her hand was on the knob.

Hope welled in her chest, and she turned, prepared to rush him with kisses and forgiveness, if he would only be her Charlie again.

“My ring?”

“Oh.” She twisted it off her finger and was so tempted to hurl it at his face, the face she still loved in spite of herself.

Instead, she set it on the table with a soft click.

Bea

After Heron left, Bea surveyed her living room. She’d shoved most of the food into the fridge yesterday to keep it away from Herschel, but the cupcake tower still stood on top of her corner credenza, every surface was littered with crumpled pink napkins and half-empty cups of punch, the bags of party favors still waited by the door. She willfully ignored it all—she’d deal with it later—and climbed the stairs to shower and dress. She took her time there, letting the hot water and steam ease some of the tension from her neck and shoulders.

When she was toweling off, she heard a key in the front door, and Ben calling, “Bea? You here?” up the stairs.

She tamped down a bristle of irritation (unfair, but whatever), and yelled, “Hang on, be right down. There’s coffee.” She threw on jeans and a sweatshirt and went down to find Ben in the kitchen, rinsing the breakfast dishes and loading them into the dishwasher. “You don’t have to do that,” she said.

Ben’s mouth was tight when he answered. “Just trying to help.” When she didn’t say anything further, he turned and leaned against the sink. “Did you get my texts?”

“I’ve been busy, Ben.”

“I realize that. And I wanted to help take some of the burden off.”

She looked at her phone. The messages from Ben read:

“Call me if you need anything.”

“Is Heron ok?”

“Can I do anything?”

“Want me to swing by with dinner for you?”

“Please just let me know if Heron is ok.”

“Are YOU ok?”

“Please answer something, Bea. I’m worried.”

“???!”

Then one from this morning:

“I’m coming over.”

She met his eyes. She could tell Ben was upset and also that he was trying not to show it. His lips were pressed together in a tight line, but his brow was raised, eyes searching hers, asking for an explanation.

She didn’t have one, at least not for ignoring his calls and texts. If he didn’t understand why she needed space right now, he wasn’t ever going to get it.

She looked away and said, “Heron’s as okay as can be expected. She came around pretty fast but we tried to keep it a quiet evening for her. And we figured out what happened, mostly.” She explained what Maggie and Bryant had told them while she finished clearing the counter.

Ben pulled out a chair and dropped into it. “That does makes sense,” he said. “I didn’t see Charlie getting there on his own.”

“It didn’t seem like it was too hard to get him to go along for the ride.” Bea put the sugar back in the cabinet and closed the door with a satisfying slam.

“I’m not sure what I would have thought in his shoes.”

“You’re not?” Was he fucking joking? “Ben, are you telling me if someone made you think I’d been with somebody else, you would show a fucking video of it to my friends and family?”

“No. I’m sure I would talk to you about it first. But I’d be pretty upset.”

Out of things to tidy, Bea joined Ben at the kitchen table. “Yeah well, Heron’s pretty upset, too.”

“As she should be. Poor kid.”

“She’s over there now, trying to work things out with Charlie.”

Ben grimaced.

“You could give him a talking to about how unacceptable his behavior was.”

“Sure,” he said, but he didn’t sound firm.

“Don’t you agree that what he did was wrong?”

He set his mug down with a clank. “Of course I do, but this is between the kids. I’m not sure lecturing Charlie on how to treat his girlfriend is my place.”

“Oh really?” She waved her phone at him. “What is all this, then? All this, ‘let me know if there’s anythingI can do to help?’ Are you on our side in this or Charlie’s?”

“I wasn’t aware there were sides.”

“You saw how devastated she was.”

“Beatrice, I saw two devastated people.”

“Oh. How egalitarian.”

Ben stared out the kitchen window for a long time, before saying, “I’m only trying to be fair.”

“And if ‘fair’ means repercussions for the SOD house, are you going to get behind that? Or are you going to have Charlie read an apology letter and call it bygones?”

His head snapped in her direction. Bea knew she was playing dirty and all her anger at Charlie and worry about Heron was pouring out onto Ben, but she couldn’t seem to tamp it down. The dam had burst, and she couldn’t stop it.

Ben said, “I think you know I’ll do what’s necessary to ensure they make things right. It’s pretty clear that Jason orchestrated this whole thing and if anyone should face consequences, it’s him.”

“Yes,” she replied, “I looked into how to file a code of conduct complaint last night after Heron went to sleep. Both Jason and Charlie can be named, and the penalties range up to expulsion. Unfortunately, faculty can’t register a complaint unless they themselves are the wronged party. Heron would have to do it. Maybe Maggie or Bryant.”

“Isn’t that as it should be? I know she’s family, Bea, but you can’t fight this battle for Heron.”

“If I don’t, I’m afraid no one will.” Everything was catching up with her, and these words caught in her throat. She knew Heron well enough to know she only wanted her stability back, wouldn’t want to hurt Charlie, even if it meant letting what he and Jason had done to her slide.

“I know,” Ben said. He patted her hand, got up to refresh their coffee. He waited until he sat back down to speak again, and his voice, when he did, was gentle. “But that’s Heron’s decision to make, isn’t it?”

“Not if she won’t make it.”

“Bea.” His voice had a stern edge. Was he actually scolding her?

“Well.” She flailed her hands. She needed Ben to see how extreme this situation was, understand the sensible approach he was advocating for wasn’t necessarily going to work.

“I think Heron’s stronger than you give her credit for,” he said. “You have to let her figure this stuff out on her own. You can’t expect her to get her future husband expelled from undergrad, can you?”

She snorted. “You can’t still expect her to marry him, can you?”

“It’s not up to me,” he said, and she wanted to throw her coffee spoon right at his smug face. “But if it’s what Heron wants, trying to talk her out of it isn’t going to work, Bea.”

“What kind of relationship can they possibly have, if every time she looks at him, she remembers how humiliated she was? She’d always wonder if he were going to do it again.”

“Maybe it’s easier for Heron to forgive than—”

“Than who? Me?”

He raised his palms in a surrendering gesture. “I didn’t say it.”

“Yeah, well, you were about to. This is completely different, Ben, this isn’t some dumb frat guy joke. This is Charlie showing…revenge porn in front of Heron’s parents, for fuck’s sake.”

“I know. I didn’t say it was about us.”

“But you were thinking it, weren’t you?”

Ben bowed his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay. So, now that the can of worms is open then, do you?” He looked up at her, catching her eyes.

“Do I what?”

“Do you trust me not to hurt you again?”

How did this conversation become about them? And, did she?

“I’m not sure.”

“Wow.”

“I mean, for god’s sake, Ben, not exactly the best day to ask me a question like that.”

“I think it’s the perfect day for it, actually. I’ve been trying to help you during a time when most women would be grateful to have a supportive partner to lean on and you’re totally shutting me out.”

“Well,” she huffed, “I’m so sorry I’m not most women.” And who said dating for three months made them partners?

“I love you for that, but I need a little help here.” Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can’t keep waiting for you to give me the benefit of the doubt.”

The warmth of her kitchen, formerly cozy, suddenly felt oppressive, stifling. She stood to open the window and said, “But you can’t expect me to be a completely different person.”

“Evidently.”

She glared at him; he looked back. It was a look she was familiar with by now, calm but not willing to let her off the hook. She hated being familiar with that look, hated being known and held accountable by someone, hated the way Ben was pushing harder and harder for them to be more of a thing than she was ready for. It hadn’t escaped her notice that he’d just said he loved her. She was pretty sure she loved him too, but that wasn’t an idea she could confront right now.

Bea was trying to decide what to say when her phone buzzed, Heron’s name flashing across the screen. She took a deep breath, pulling herself together before she answered. “Hi, Birdie,” she said as cheerfully as possible.

Bea could hardly make out the words on the other end. It was mostly sobbing, but she heard, “Come get me,” and that was all she needed to be out of her seat.

“I can’t have this conversation right now. I have to go.”

“Okay.” Ben stood up. “Can we talk more later?”

“I don’t know, Ben.” She was exasperated. “I need to handle what’s going on with Heron before I can deal with your feelings, okay? Just…let yourself out, I guess.”

“Sure.” His answer was clipped, but she was halfway to the car before he even gave it.

Heron

Heron walked into her dad’s house to find her mother sitting on the couch. The last time she’d seen her mom in this spot, where she had usually settled each evening to watch TV, was two nights before Felicia left them. It was jarring, but after everything that had happened over the past day, she was emotionally numb and all she felt was a mild jolt of dissonance.

“Oh. Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, sweetie.”

“Hello, Felicia,” Bea said, entering behind Heron.

Her dad came through from the kitchen, saying, “Why don’t you come stay here for a while? Toni or I can drive you in for your classes, and you’ll get a little break from campus life.”

“And from having to see that boy,” Felicia added.

She turned toward Bea, looking to see what her cousin thought of all this.

Bea added, “Or you can stay with me. Whatever you want.”

Felicia cleared her throat. “It’s probably not your first choice, but you could spend spring break with me in Seattle. I’ll be at work during the day, but you can study or see movies or just hang out.”

Heron was stunned. They’d made all of these plans for her, coddling her as they had when she was in high school. Everyone seemed to know what was best for her, which was funny because Heron didn’t have any idea herself. “I don’t know,” she said, looking at each one of their concerned faces. “Can I think about it?”

“Of course, Birdie.”

She drifted to her room with the intention of crawling into her childhood bed—she’d slept so much over the past day but still felt exhausted. When she reached the doorway, her wedding gown loomed like a ghost in the corner of the room. It was almost finished; she only had the hem and some detailing left.

Heron opened her closet and shoved the whole thing inside, dress form and all, the gown toppling down over a box of old school papers. Then, she slipped under the covers and sobbed. The past two days had been an onslaught her body had, until now, protected her from: Charlie’s loving gesture turning into a humiliating spectacle; the coldness in his voice as he told her he was finished; the realization that all of this had been because Jason set out deliberately to hurt her. Heron cried until she was completely spent, vaguely aware of the murmurs in the living room, footsteps passing her door.

She must have fallen asleep because when she opened her eyes again, the light in the room had shifted. Late afternoon sun was coming in through the window now. At some point, someone had come in and put a glass of water on her nightstand. She sipped it, and when the liquid hit her stomach, she realized she was hungry.

Heron went into the bathroom, splashed water on her face and looked into her own eyes, red-rimmed and bright. She thought about tomorrow, about going back to class and she realized…she certainly could. She was stronger than everyone realized. And yes, it would be humiliating, she’d hear the whispers and notice the stares as she had on her trip across campus this morning, but she could handle it.

She didn’t want to handle it, though. It would be exactly what Jason had wanted, and it must on some level be what Charlie wanted, too, to hurt her in retribution for not being the perfect sweet girl he thought he was getting. To see her broken. She didn’t want to stay with her dad or Bea, either. They’d coddle her and Heron couldn’t stand the thought of that.

Then she thought about her mother’s offer. Her mother had never invited her to Seattle before. She’d always been curious about what Felicia’s life was like there. She certainly wouldn’t be coddled. Maybe some time away from Millet would help her gain perspective, to figure out why Charlie found it so easy to leave her.

Heron showered and put on fresh clothes before she returned to the living room. This was a step that would have seemed insurmountable under any other circumstances, but her world had already been turned upside down. Maybe something drastic was just what she needed. “Mom, I’d like to stay with you for a few weeks, starting now.”

Her dad set his drink down. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, Birdie?”

“Why not, Dad? She’s my mother. And I could use a change of scenery. Just through spring break. Then I’ll decide if I want to stay here or at Bea’s or go back to the apartment.” There was still a tiny flame of hope that she’d be back with Charlie by then, but it was getting weaker every second. After what he’d said to her in his room, she couldn’t see a future for them.

“Don’t you have a week of classes left before spring break?”

“Yes, but I don’t have any tests. I have one paper due on Tuesday but it’s nearly done, and I can submit it by email. After four years of perfect attendance and good grades, I think it’s probably okay to miss a couple of classes. Right, Bea?”

“Honestly?” Bea said. “Probably. Half the seniors on campus will skip their classes next week.”

“See?” Heron said. “Look, I’ve thought this through. I’m caught up in my current courses. The main thing I need to work on is finishing my thesis, and I can do that anywhere. What do you say, Mom?”

Felicia straightened her cardigan, “My apartment is small, but I think we girls can make do for a little while. It’ll be fun, like a slumber party.”

“See?” Heron said, “It’s a great plan.”

“Well, all right. I can always come pick you up if you decide you’re ready to come home.”

“I can drive her back at the end of spring break, Len.”

Before Heron had a chance to say she couldn’t bear to go back to the apartment, Bea called Maggie, who agreed to pack for her, so Heron and Felicia could get it on their way out of town. Bea handed her phone over so Heron could tell Maggie what she needed.

“Hey,” Heron said into the phone.

“Hi. Are you okay?”

“I mean…kind of. I think I will be. Are you? I’m so sorry you got dragged into this.”

“It’s fine. Honestly, I’m not that bothered about it, except about being manipulated into doing something that hurt you. None of us has anything to be ashamed of. Bryant is furious too, by the way. We are both so, so sorry.”

“Tell him it’s not his fault. If you guys had asked me to use my room, I would have said yes.”

“About that…If you’re not going to be here next week, do you mind if Bryant stays at our place? He’s not getting along so great with the other guys in his house right now.”

Yikes. She could only imagine what it would be like for him there now. “Oh my gosh, yes, of course he can.”

“You’re the best, Heron. Now tell me what you need.”

Bea

The exhaustion of the weekend finally sunk in for Bea as she drove home. She’d been on alert for a day and a half; setting up and hosting the party, taking care of her cousin, half-sleeping in case Heron needed something in the night, the strained conversation with Ben, navigating the tension between Len, Felicia, and Toni in the context of their joint concern for Heron. All she wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep until her Monday morning class. Thank heavens she was finally home and could be alone.

Her tires crunched on the gravel of the driveway. A figure rose from her porch swing and stepped into the light, giving a tentative wave. Ben. Shit. She needed to talk to him, but right now she couldn’t bear the thought of another heavy discussion. Or any further human interaction at all.

“Sorry to miss Sunday dinner,” he said. “I wasn’t sure what the plan was, so I came by at five.”

It was after nine. “Sorry,” she said. But she was annoyed, too. Could he not have inferred when she rushed off to get Heron that this evening wouldn’t be business as usual? They hadn’t finished their conversation, but she’d been pretty clear about the space she needed. “I took Heron straight out to her dad’s after I left here.” As she opened the door, she shot him a sidelong glance. “Have you just been lurking on my porch this whole time then?”

“No.” Ben sounded annoyed, and as she swung her door open, she could see why. All the party debris was gone. No more tissue paper flowers, party favors, gifts, cupcakes. The living room had been cleaned.

“I took the leftover food to the library. There are a lot of students getting ready for midterms today. The gifts are in a box in your hall closet. I put the party favors in the closet, too, in case you want to give them to Sarah. Everything else is gone.”

“Thanks,” she said. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to help. I told you. There’s also this.” He handed her a flash drive.

“This is the—”

“The video.” His voice was tight. “Yeah.”

She had a ridiculous urge to throw it into the street. How could something so tiny cause so much trouble? Instead, she put it carefully in the glass dish on her coffee table. It might be needed later if there were going to be consequences for Charlie and Jason.

“Thanks.” Bea sank onto the couch, leaning back and closing her eyes. Ben still stood in the doorway. She could tell he was waiting for a cue from her. An invitation to come sit down, to hold her, to do whatever other supportive boyfriend bullshit he thought would help. All she wanted was to be left alone. “What an exhausting day.”

She opened her eyes and tipped her head back up to look at him. “Do you…need something else from me?” she asked. She knew she was being unfair, but this was unbearable. For the first time since the rush of her feelings for Ben, Bea deeply missed her solitary life. She would have gladly cleaned up the party debris herself if it meant not having to have one more goddamn conversation.

“I guess not.”

“Good.” She pulled the afghan down and curled her legs onto the couch. To lie down for a little while before changing her clothes and brushing her teeth. That was all she needed. Ten minutes of quiet.

She felt the sofa cushions sink next to her feet, a hand light on her calf. Bea swung her legs back down and sat up to glare at Ben. “Seriously?”

Ben’s hand drew back as if her leg were a hot iron. “I’m not trying to start anything, Bea. It’s been a rough couple of days, and I wanted us to spend some time together. This is a thing people do.”

“Oh no,” she knew her voice dripped with sarcasm now, but she didn’t care. “Has it been rough for you? Hard to see your protégé wronged by his girl?”

“That’s not fair, Bea.”

“That’s not fair.”

“You seem to think this is a thing that happened to you. It’s not. This is Heron’s issue to deal with.”

“I know that.”

“Do you? Because it seems like you’re more invested in her love life than your own.”

She sat up straight. So, they’d be arguing after all, then. Fine. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it? Because all weekend I’ve been trying to be a good partner to you and all weekend you’ve been slamming doors in my face.”

“You asked me what I need. I need space. I don’t understand why you won’t give that to me.”

“And I don’t understand why you think you have to do everything difficult alone.”

Her voice broke as she blurted, “Because that’s the only way I know how to do it.” She was so tired. “Can’t teach an old dog new tricks, y’know.”

It wasn’t only that. The way Charlie had hurt Heron reminded Bea she’d given Ben the power to hurt her, too. She had to claw some of it back.

“It doesn’t seem to me like you’re even willing to try.” Ben straightened his posture on the couch, too, so now they were staring each other down from their positions against the opposite arms.

“You don’t think I’m trying? If you can’t see how I’ve twisted my life around to bring you into it, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“I don’t know, either.” Ben slumped into the cushions. “Because from where I’ve sitting, you’ve made precisely one drawer’s worth of room in your life for me. Is that twisting your life around? Because it shouldn’t be so difficult.”

“No. It shouldn’t.” Bea stood, moving toward the entry. “So, I guess that’s it, then. You should go.”

“Okay. Yeah. We can talk about this more tomorrow.” Ben rose, too.

“No. You should go. If we’re done, we’re done. In fact, let’s go empty your drawer now, it’ll save us some awkwardness later.”

She was energized. Maybe this was all just too much for her, she wasn’t built for it. She wasn’t a person who could handle interpersonal situations this intense, nurturing another person’s feelings when she was so upset herself. Bea simply didn’t know what to do with all the emotion roiling inside her, so she turned it into action.

She strode up the stairs, stopping halfway to the second floor when she sensed him still standing in the middle of the living room. “Let’s go.”

“Bea.” Standing at the bottom of the steps, he looked up at her, shaking his head.

“What? I guess I can pack it up for you.” She turned to continue up.

He took a few steps up to join her, putting a hand on her shoulder, which stiffened. “Bea. Come on. This is a fight. People fight.”

She turned around. Ahead of him on the staircase, she was taller and looked down into his face. “I don’t. This is either working or it isn’t, Ben. I’m tired. I don’t want to do this with you if it means being at odds like this all the time. Maybe we were just fun until something tested us, and now we know we can’t withstand something like this. It’s better that it happened sooner rather than later.”

“Bea.” She couldn’t bear the way he kept saying her name. It was like a plea, a prayer, an appeal to reason. Ben was a weak spot in her rationality. She turned her back on him and marched up to her bedroom. Don’t look at him, she told herself. You can get through this if you don’t look at him.

She pulled a conference-freebie tote bag out of the pile in her closet. She could feel Ben’s eyes on her from the bedroom doorway, trying silently to catch her gaze. She wasn’t going to take the bait. Carefully, she packed his socks, his underwear, his flannel pajama bottoms, his shaving kit into the tote, giving herself points for each item she didn’t fling at his face.

When she was done, she marched down to the front door, and stood with it open until he came down the stairs.

Gently, he took the bag from her hand and said, “I love you, Bea.”

She couldn’t speak for a long moment. None of this felt right. It felt like taking the wrong exit on the freeway because the sign has your destination on it, even though none of the scenery looks like a place you want to go. But asking Ben to stay wouldn’t feel right, either. She needed everything to stop, so she could get her bearings.

Bea swallowed hard and said, “Maybe I loved you, too. But I can’t do this. I just can’t. I am sorry.”

She went back inside before Ben reached the sidewalk. Her empty house was as she wanted it. Everything in its place, no one there to demand her attention but Herschel. This was better. This was easy. She would have to get used to it; the same way she had gotten used to being with him. It might be rough for a while, but she’d eventually be back to her old self.