Chapter 38
38
BEN
I palm my cock as it thickens. My mind has constantly wandered back to the events of this morning all day, and it’s been a constant struggle to keep my focus on my job—something I never had a problem doing before.
Hope was so damn stunning as she fell apart in my lap. The flush to her cheeks and the way her pulse hammered. The way she took what she wanted.
So damn sexy.
It took everything in me not to fall into oblivion until she got what she needed. It took a hell of a lot of control on my part as my orgasm burned and clawed to be released. Once she came, I couldn’t hold it back—even if a gun was being held to my head. It rammed through me like a bullet. And nothing had ever felt better because she showed me a level of trust I wasn’t sure she’d ever give me.
My heart soared as we shared something so intimate, and then within moments, it shattered into a million bloody pieces when her distress and pain filled the room like a swirling storm. I just wanted to hold her … to reassure her that everything would be okay.
That we did nothing wrong.
Then it was time to get ready for work … and Evan came home … and I hated leaving Hope when she was so vulnerable and raw. I’m gutted something so natural, so beautiful, ended in such sorrow.
What I wouldn’t give to make her pain mine and give her the freedom to feel peace. If I could swap places with Wyatt, I would in a heartbeat—if it took away her pain and gave her the happiness she deserves.
I glance across at my phone sitting on the bedside table. Rex raises his head from his prone position on his dog bed and whines at me.
“I know. I should just message her to check she’s okay.” His golden eyebrows rise and fall as he watches me. “I’m trying to give her some space. I don’t want to lose her by pushing too hard.”
He adjusts his position, tilts his head to the side as though he understands what I’m saying, and barks at me as my phone lights up with a message.
Snatching the phone like a teenage girl, my eyes greedily scan the screen. A long, relieved breath peels out of my lungs at the name that’s lit up like a beacon.
Cookie
Hey
I hope it’s not too late
Are you free?
Can I call you?
I fumble with the device, cursing myself, and call her. After one ring, her chuckle reaches my ears and the air in my lungs gushes past my lips. It’s the best sound I’ve heard all day, and I soak it up like it’s essential for my wellbeing. I should feel scared at how quickly Hope and Evan have gotten under my skin and become an integral part of my life, but I’m not. It’s surprising how ready I am to make them mine.
“That was fast,” she says with a chuckle.
“Hey,” I murmur on a breath.
“Hey.” She must still be smiling because I can hear it in that simple greeting.
I lean back against my headboard and get comfortable, resting my free hand behind my head. “How was your day?” I wonder if she can hear the deeper questions—the ones I really want to ask.
Are you okay? Did I break you? Did I break us before we began?
She chuckles softly, and I can imagine her sliding her fingers through her hair and holding it back from her face the way she does. The sound of a long breath fans out across the line, then there’s a pause. “Where do I start?”
“Wherever you want, Cookie.”
Rex sighs from his bed, still watching me.
“Cookie,” she whispers. “Wyatt never gave me a nickname, but I like that you’ve given me one. The way your voice softens when you say it. It … uh … makes me feel really special.”
“Good, because you are.”
The rustling of fabric and the creak of bed springs fill the silence. “I’m a broken mess, that’s what I am.”
I shake my head. “You’re beautiful … inside and out.”
“You make me feel beautiful for the first time in a really long time,” she confesses softly.
“I’m glad.” My chest fills with warmth which radiates out through my body. If I can help her see her beauty and bring her back into the light, I’ll consider it one of my greatest achievements.
“You make me feel like maybe some of my broken pieces aren’t so broken anymore.”
“There’s beauty in being broken, Hope. You just don’t see it.”
“Ben,” she murmurs in the softest voice.
“Have you ever heard of kintsugi ?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“It’s a Japanese method for repairing broken pottery. Using a special Japanese lacquer, artisans glue the pieces back together and then paint the joins with a gold, silver, or platinum powder. Some believe the repaired pottery is even more stunning than it was before it was broken.” Her breaths fill the line. “When I look at you, all I see is the most stunning woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, and the more time I spend with you, the more stunning you become. Your broken pieces make you beautifully unique.”
Silence fills the line, and the temptation to fill it with words to lighten the mood is strong, but maybe the silence will give her time to come to terms with what I’ve said. She clears her throat. “That … that’s beautiful, Ben. I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t need to say anything. You just need to believe what I’m telling you.”
“I can’t believe you see me like that,” she whispers. The line goes quiet again, except for her breathing. “I wanted to apologize for this morning.”
My stomach drops and twists on itself. I know she regrets what happened, but I can’t bear to hear her say the words. As much as I know she does, I can’t find it in myself to regret it. The only part of what happened this morning I regret is when she broke down. “You don’t?—”
“Yes, I do. You don’t deserve to be dealing with my emotional breakdowns. This morning was all my fault. The other night when I kissed you … that was my fault, too. You’ve been so patient, allowing me the space to do things when I’m ready and then when I do … I fall apart. I’m embarrassed by my behavior.”
I can’t sit here and listen to her anymore, so I climb from the bed and pace across the cool hardwood floor. “Hope,” I rumble. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“Well, thank you, but I think I do. You didn’t ask for any of this, but you’ve continued to be there for me through my tears. You’re such a good man.” She goes quiet, and I absorb her words, soaking up her compliment. I’ve always worked hard to be a good person. To be the opposite of everything I grew up with. “I’ve had an emotional day, and to be honest, I’m beyond exhausted.”
“Do you wanna talk about it, or would you rather get some sleep?” I don’t want her to hang up, but if she needs sleep …
She sighs. “I’d like to talk with you about it. I mean, if you have time.”
“I have nothing but time for you … and for Evan.” I drop back onto my bed and get comfortable again, shoving my pillows behind my back.
She blows out a long breath, and I hear the rustle of fabric. “I’ve had an emotional day all around. First, this morning with you, then Mom insisted on having lunch together. She was adamant I haven’t screwed up Evan and that all parents question their ability to parent. And while I’d love to believe that’s true, I feel as though she’s only saying that to relieve some of the burden from my heart.”
I nod even though she can’t see me, and when she pauses, I jump in. “I’m not a parent, so I don’t know how it works from personal experience, but in my line of work, I see a lot of kids who have definitely been emotionally abandoned or physically forgotten by their parents. The signs of their neglect are as obvious as a neon sign to me, and I want to tell you that Evan doesn’t bear any. Sure, he made an error in judgment with his new friends, but he was genuinely remorseful. He’s a great kid, Hope. He has a strong moral compass, and he’s well cared for and loved. The minute I laid eyes on him in the gas station, I knew he was a good kid who’d made a mistake.”
“As much as I wish he’d never gotten caught up with those boys, I’m thankful you’re the one who brought him home. I’m not sure if the positive change in Evan would have happened if it weren’t for you.” I draw in a silent breath, caught off guard by her declaration. Something deep inside me warms with her acknowledgment. “I’m so appreciative of the time and compassion you’ve given Evan. The change in him has been … remarkable … and so good for my soul.”
I rub my hand over the top of my head, sending flashes of Hope cutting my hair through my mind. “As I said, he’s a good kid.”
“He is.” She pauses for a long time, and I wonder if that’s the end of the conversation. “Then, this afternoon, Clara called while Evan was playing soccer.” The tone of her voice has changed, grown heavier, more weighed down. “She wanted the lowdown about you.” She chuckles mischievously. I wonder what she had to say about me? “I told her I cheated on Wyatt,” she murmurs so softly, and I’m unsure if I heard her correctly.
Cheated?
But how?
Then, as if lightning strikes, realization hits me. She still considers herself a married woman. She still wears her wedding ring and still holds herself to the same promises she made when she made her vows to Wyatt. Guilt crawls its way up my throat and tears out of my mouth. “I’m so sorry, Hope. I should have stopped things before they went that far.” I can’t believe I put her in that position. I’m such a selfish ass.
“You don’t need to apologize for anything. That was all on me, and I realized this afternoon that if … if I had the chance … if you were even remotely interested … after my breakdown and all … I … uh … I’d like to do it again some time,” she whispers the last part, as if she’s worried I’ll deny her. Does she not realize I’d never deny her anything?
My heart takes off at a gallop. I thought this conversation was her way of telling me nothing could happen between us again. Instead, she’s surprised the hell out of me. “Hope.” Her name escapes my lips on a breath, mixed with compassion and need. “Don’t ever doubt my interest in you,” I almost growl—disappointed. Frustrated she hasn’t been paying attention.
Her breaths echo across the line. “Oh-kay.” Her nervous chuckle follows after a few seconds. “So … uhm … maybe we could go on a da?—”
“Yes!” I almost shout and she chuckles more freely. “I’d love to take you on a date,” I rush to add. Feeling like an asshole that she had to ask. “When can we make this happen?”
“Hmm. I’m not sure. When are you free?” Her tone has grown playful.
“I’m on days this Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, so we can do something one of those evenings.” I can’t believe a date with Hope is within my grasp. Now, to make it memorable for her.
“Leave it to me, and I’ll see when I can organize a babysitter for Evan. I’m sure it won’t be a problem,” she tells me, and I can practically hear the smile in her voice. “I’ll let you know tomorrow.”