29. Twenty-Nine
Twenty-Nine
BEN
L ena directs us into the first empty room—the back entry to a dimly lit conference area. Anger and embarrassment overtake me, forcing me to pull away from her grip.
This was not the fucking plan.
When I saw the Wilmington Comic-Con on the family calendar, I arranged to work the event. I wanted to interact with Lena and Ruthie in a neutral setting, something fun and engaging, to counter the tension that I’ve inadvertently created at home. This week has been rough, especially for Lena.
I know she has a million questions and things she wants to say. She’s glimpsed parts of me I don’t show anyone, not even her, and as Dr. Reese said when we met privately, “There’s a lot to unpack here.” But including Lena is difficult until I learn how to handle my emotions better.
She fell in love with a stable, understanding, patient man who had his shit together. That’s not who I am right now. And I don’t want to put us more at risk.
Today was meant to remind us of us. I intended to take an extended break to enjoy the convention as a family. With my uniform and responsibilities as a shield, I’d hoped she’d be reminded of the capable, steady, and dutiful man I am. Or try to be.
She sees the worst of me instead.
“Fuck!” I yell. I can’t help it. I sink into the nearest chair, hiding my face in my hands.
I’m flushed with anger on top of adrenaline and reeling with shame.
I can’t even make a simple collar without falling apart.
Tears blur my vision. A migraine threatens.
I hear a voice, but not what she says. A gentle hand falls on my shoulder, but I jerk it away.
“Go!” I tell her.
She doesn’t move.
“I’m fine! Just go!”
She remains.
I make eye contact, no longer giving a fuck if she sees the mess I’ve become—it’s too late. “I don’t want you here!”
But she doesn’t leave.
Pain and frustration overtake me. I lean over, elbows to knees, face in my hands, hiding the rage that’s seeping from me in tears. I’m fucking sobbing. She’s never seen me like this. I’ve rarely been like this, and I hate it.
Hate myself. Hate that day. Hate so many days since. And my chronic hatred culminates into this—my wife rubbernecking my damn breakdown. I can’t take it.
“Please, Lena,” I beg, weaker now. “Please, go.”
I don’t look up, don’t want to see how I’ve hurt her again. Moments ago, she couldn’t have been prouder of me. I ruined it. Now, she sees the truth about me—weak, angry, deficient—and I can’t handle more of her disappointment.
The pressure compounds. I can’t keep on like this. Can’t do the fucking job I love. Can’t stay calm and controlled. Can’t be the man she needs.
I am defeated. Broken.
Alone.
Not alone. Her stomach grazes my head as she moves in front of me. Her delicate fingers slide over my shoulders, curling in an invitation. Testing me, inching me closer.
I latch onto her, and the dark thoughts recede. Tightly, so tightly. My face crushes to her soft stomach. Her fingers rake through my hair, nudging me even closer.
“Shit, Lena. I’m sorry.”
“Everything’s okay, Ben.”
Her words, her softness, and her acceptance unlock the aching tightness in my chest. I bury myself against her, hiding my tears but letting them come. It’s freeing and frightening at once.
I’m reminded of the night I came home after finding Adam, and she held me like this, accepting me completely in silence. Letting me hurt. Letting me feel. Why must I always be at my worst before opening up to her?
Time is lost on me—I don’t know how long we stay like that. But when her fingers softly massage my temple, I confess, “I don’t want this for you.”
“ This is you right now. I want this for me. Always.” Her deep breath lulls me.
“It’s getting worse. Every day,” I whine. “It’s not fair to you.”
“You never need to worry about me. We’ve prepared for this, remember?”
I shake my head, dragging away from her. “No, we didn’t. Not enough. There’s no contingency plan for me falling apart.”
“ You are going to be fine. I promise.” She sighs, her breath a warm blanket drifting over me. “You had a dizzy spell. It happens. You still kept everyone safe. You’re a hero—”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, honey. You are. You saved Jaye from being attacked, and Ruthie just got to see her dad take down a bad guy. You help people every day. And what you did for Adam—”
“Lena, I almost missed Adam.” The words fall from me like loose bricks tumbling down a wall and shattering between us. She holds my gaze, confused, but stays close, edged between my legs like she’s locking me in place. “I almost didn’t save him.”
“What do you mean?”
“He was inside that trailer, trapped in that damn crate, crying for help, and I didn’t hear him. I just walked away.”
“But you must’ve come back.” Her brow crinkles into the letter L again as she assesses me. “What happened?”
“I got lucky.” Her fingers delicately wipe my tears away.
“The forecast called for storms, and I noticed a kid’s backpack on a picnic table.
I went to move it inside the screen door so it wouldn’t get ruined.
It wasn’t until I went to the door a second time that I heard…
” My voice trails off as I bury my tears in her stomach. She rubs my head, pressing me closer.
“If I hadn’t gone back… if I hadn’t seen the backpack…
if it hadn’t been about to rain… I would’ve left him there, tortured and alone, all because I couldn’t fucking hear him.
” I peer up at her, desperate for her to understand.
“He was there the whole time, and I couldn’t hear him.
I couldn’t hear him, Lena. I came so close to failing him, and every time I think about the horrible shit he went through, I feel sick and disgusted with myself.
I can’t do this job anymore. I just can’t.
Not if I can’t respond to a call confident that I’ll fucking hear someone crying for help. ”
Her hand grips my chin, bringing my eyes to hers. “But you did hear him, Ben. A million ifs don’t change the truth—Adam is safe because of you.”
“I can’t risk it.”
“Everything’s a risk,” she says after a thoughtful pause, “and no one’s infallible.
For every cop that could’ve saved Adam, another could’ve missed him for one reason or another.
Hell, most cops wouldn’t go back for a kid’s backpack.
It does no good to deal with what-ifs. You can’t put that kind of pressure—”
“All I feel is pressure,” I say, gently moving her away to stand up. “I’ve always been the strong one, steady and calm, the one that people rely on, count on for support. I need to be that for you, but I’m afraid I can’t be anymore—”
“You are that for me. And Ruthie. Always , Ben. We don’t need you to be a cop or a hero or anything. You are enough. You are all we need.” Her hand loops around my arm, holding me in place. Then, she presses it to the middle of her chest. “Breathe. Just breathe.”
I do as she says, closing my eyes and taking deep breaths to match hers. Lost in the time warp of her comfort again, I don’t know how long I stay there. But the pressure relents with each exhale.
“I love you,” I say like I can’t help it. “Thanks for staying.”
“You’ll never get rid of me, Ben Wright. I’m yours, always. No matter what.” She tiptoes up to me for a kiss, soft and sweet, like she wants to seal her promise.
If only I could believe it. God, I want to believe it. “Um, I should get back.”
“Okay, but can we talk more tonight? We’d be in a much better place if we were there together. Please.”
My hesitation disappoints her. I envision her freed to launch into her million questions, breaking me down further, and her gushing with encouragement and platitudes to rebuild me again.
But some things are beyond her control. She can’t give me my hearing back or stop the changes ahead. She can’t control her inevitable disappointment or reaction when I become the burden I fear. I dread that day more than death.
The pressure returns tenfold just thinking about the conversation. Still, I can’t refuse her.
“Tonight. Yes.”
Logically, it’s a good plan. Identify the problem through calm communication with her and Dr. Reese. Solve the problem with support, assistance, and workable strategies. Simple.
Well, bordering simple.
It’s the best course of action. For the moment, anyway.
She and Ruthie rejoin the comic-con. I call my captain, admit my difficulty with today’s event, and request to be taken off patrol after this shift. He says he’ll have a new assignment for me starting Monday. At a desk, probably.
Rejoining my fellow officers in the arena to finish dealing with the situation, I notice Lena and Ruthie meeting up with the Mackey-Grahams. Jack Graham slips his arm around Rowan’s waist while she mindlessly rubs her basketball belly.
I almost don’t recognize Adam in his full Spiderman costume.
He crouches around Ruthie, shooting her with imaginary webs from one hand and clicking his flashlight at her with the other. My flashlight.
Guilt and shame hit me again like a blisteringly cold wind through the arena.
Stop thinking and do your fucking duty.
But Adam bolts through the crowd when he sees me, and my bad feelings mount into an avalanche.
He grabs onto me, gushing about his costume and the event.
Holding him reminds me of the first time and how emaciated and scared he was.
He’s much healthier now, though still slight.
His family and mine follow, and light conversation ensues.
Under it all, the pressure grows. A glance at Lena’s soft, loving, but concerned eyes tells me she sees it.
So, when Jack invites me over for a drink later, I agree, and Lena’s smile disappears in her disappointment.