27. Far From Ruined
My bedroom was empty, the carpet bare save for permanent discoloration and imprints in the fabric from my furniture. Light streamed into the room through the open blinds, the curtain rods stripped and naked. The utter barrenness left me numb.
I’d lived and slept in this room for as long as I could remember. Now, it was completely devoid of life, an empty space where I used to breathe.
“You ready?” Ben asked, sliding an arm around my waist and hooking his chin on my shoulder.
“Yeah,” I said as I angled my head to rest against Ben’s. “Yeah, I’m ready.”
He kissed my neck, the spot below my tragus surface piercing, and then the scar above my ear. “It’s okay if you’re not. We’re not in a rush.”
“No, I’m good,” I answered honestly, turning to give him a sad smile.
His beautiful blue eyes twinkled as he grinned back, his dimple carving into his cheek. It had been months since the first time I’d seen that damn dimple, yet it still made my heart swell.
“Let’s go,” I said.
Hand-in-hand, we left my empty bedroom and descended the stairs. I didn’t need his help on the steps, but his hand tightened reflexively around mine, as if silently promising to catch me should I slip.
The living room was just as bare as my bedroom. We’d sold everything that wasn’t nailed down in a weekend-long garage sale last week, and everything left over was carted off to Goodwill. I still had Dad’s SUV, though I’d sell it too before I left for New York, but everything else that didn’t fit in a suitcase was gone.
Ben didn’t rush me as I meandered through my childhood home for the last time. He left me to my thoughts as I studied the stove where he’d cooked me cheesy eggs, as I pictured my Dad setting a blue moon ice cream cake on the countertop next to a wrapped jewelry box holding a watch—the watch that was on my wrist, the face still cracked.
When I was ready, I turned away and wordlessly walked toward the front door. We left the house, and I locked the door for the last time, making sure I had all the keys to hand over when I signed off on the sale Monday morning.
With one last glance at the house that I’d grown up in, I climbed into the passenger seat of Ben’s Impala and buckled my seatbelt. I clung to his hand as I watched my childhood home disappear behind me in the rearview mirror.
Tomorrow was our graduation ceremony. Will and Cora would be attending virtually since my niece was only a week and a half old. My brother had video-called in the middle of the night, interrupting a rather passionate moment between me and Ben.
But the moment he’d held the squirming infant up to the camera and I looked into her brown eyes—dark like Dad’s—I’d burst into happy tears. Madison Mackenzie Brigs. Born May twenty-fifth, six pounds, eight ounces. She was the tiniest little thing, her little fingers and toes cute enough to eat. She was the most beautiful baby I’d ever seen.
My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out of my pocket and read the text from Aunt June. “Aunt June’s asking what kind of ice cream cake you want for the graduation party.”
“You don’t want blue moon?” Ben asked.
“Oh, we’re getting blue moon,” I said. “She wants to know the flavor of the second one. Unless you want blue moon too?”
He grimaced. “No.”
“No?” I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why not? Blue moon’s the best flavor.”
Biting his bottom lip, he kept his gaze pointedly on the road. “Hate to break it to you, but I’m not a big fan of blue moon.”
“I’m sorry, what?” I demanded.
“It’s okay,” he said as the car rolled to a stop at a Stop sign. “But that’s it. Just okay.”
“Just okay?” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Just okay!”
“Silas—”
I pointed an accusing finger at him. “You lied! Our entire relationship is based on a lie.”
His brows flew up into his blond curls. “Our entire relationship? Don’t you think you’re overreacting a little bit?”
My scowl deepened as I glared at him. “You said it was the best damn flavor on the planet.”
“Yeah, sarcastically,” he said, and I gasped, scandalized. He dropped even the premise of caring. “Blue moon is an okay flavor of ice cream. It’s not the best. Get over it.”
“I can’t believe this.” I slumped back against my seat. “I’m gonna lose you over an ice cream flavor.”
“If that’s really your basis for our relationship, then I’m probably better off.” He grinned at me, laughing when I punched him in the shoulder.
Refocusing on my phone, I typed a response to Aunt June. “Well, I’m telling Aunt June that the only food we want at our graduation are blue moon-flavored snacks and desserts. Get over it.”
“Sure,” he said.
At first, I hadn’t even wanted a graduation party, but Ben had convinced me to celebrate my accomplishments by combining with his party. He had a pool in his backyard, and June in Indiana was already hot as balls, so I figured, why not? I’d laze in the pool with Esther and Kim, while Ben made polite small talk with the rest of our guests.
Attending our graduation ceremony had been a harder debate for Ben to win. After everything that had happened this past year, and the three years prior, the last thing I wanted to do was go back to that school for any reason. But graduating was apparently a huge deal, and according to Ben, we deserved to walk across that stage.
I would most likely be gimping across that stage, but I supposed he was right. Might as well leave that horrible school with a bang! And it helped to know that Eric Boyt would not be one of those walking with us to collect his diploma.
He’d officially been charged with several counts of sexual assault, and thanks to the DNA evidence he’d left on my shirt, he didn’t really stand a chance if it went to trial. If he pleaded not-guilty, we’d have to testify, but our lawyers were both confident he’d take a plea deal in exchange for a lighter sentence.
All those involved hoped for the latter, but we were prepared for the former, should the situation arise. But for now, all we could do was wait for Boyt to accept the plea deal currently on the table.
He’d get seven to ten years, though realistically he’d only serve half— if we were lucky. If we weren’t, he’d be out on good behavior in as little as two years. Sure, take Black teenagers with an ounce too much of marijuana in their pockets, and they get sent to prison for ten years without parole. But rich, White sexual predators served less than half their sentences because why let something as trivial as rape ruin a young man’s life?
It made me sick.
Always the optimist, Ben focused on the positive. Boyt would get prison time no matter what, and he’d be on the sex offender’s list for the rest of his life. It didn’t seem like enough, but it was something. It was a sort of justice. If anything, it would make Boyt—and the rest of his wrestling buddies and admirers—think twice about date-raping their next conquest.
I shook my head to clear my thoughts as Ben directed the car to a stop at the curb. Confused, I scrutinized the park where Ben and I had kissed for the first time. I quirked a questioning eyebrow, and Ben grinned.
As he exited the car, he threw a playful, “I bet I can swing higher!” over his shoulder before sprinting toward the swing set.
I gave chase at a limping jog, but Ben veered away from the swings currently occupied by actual children and ran around the castle. We reenacted our first time at the park, though our roles were reversed. This time, he was the prey and I the hunter. I took my time catching him.
Granted, he was faster than me, with or without my weak hip, so I only caught him because he let me. Entering the tower, he turned to face me with cheeks pink and chest heaving.
A naughty smile played at my mouth as I sauntered through the doorway. “Now that I’ve caught you, what’s my prize?”
He chuckled at my words, the same ones he’d said to me all those months ago.
“Me,” he answered breathlessly.
“Oh?” I crowded him against the wall where the playing children couldn’t see us. “And what am I going to do with you?”
In answer, he pulled me close and kissed me. His mouth was soft and warm, and I tasted spearmint on his tongue. I loved kissing him, would never tire of kissing him. He was everything I never knew I wanted, and I would never let him go.
Disconnecting us, Ben smiled down at me as he ran his hands up and down my spine. “You okay?”
“If you ask me that one more time, I might hit you.”
“I’m not trying to hover, but it’s a lot.” His blue eyes studied me seriously, and I rested my forehead against his chin to escape his scrutiny.
“I know.” I cuddled into his body and tightened my grip around his neck. “It’s overwhelming and terrifying, but I really am okay.”
He kissed my forehead, and I smiled, relaxing into our loose embrace. “Well, Aunt June is going to make it her mission to fatten you up as much as she can this summer. Just a warning.”
“Will you still love me when you have to roll me around like a beach ball?”
Rolling his eyes, Ben snorted, then cupped my face in his hands. “I don’t think there’s anything that would make me not love you.”
The sentiment made me ache exquisitely, and I kissed him again.
When we parted, I turned in his hold to gaze out of the window where two young kids were playing on the swings.
“It’s weird,” Ben said as he rested his chin on my shoulder. “Being back here where it all began.”
I furrowed my brow. “It didn’t begin here.”
“Then where did it begin?”
I pondered that for a moment, flipping through the memories that had brought us to this point. Something new had started here, but we’d already been on the path long before that. Before the party, before the late-night phone calls.
“It started with blue moon shakes,” I said with a smirk, and Ben buried a laugh in my neck.
“Yeah,” he breathed. “I suppose it did.”
“Was it worth it?” I asked, fingers tightening around his wrists.
Slowly, gently, he turned me around to face him, his arms boxing me in against the windowsill. His ocean eyes rolled with turbulent waves, and his pulse fluttered under the skin of his throat. I brushed a fingertip over the rapid beat.
“You’ll always be worth it,” he said seriously, and my heart skipped.
“We’re young. Things change.”
He cradled my face in his hands. “Things might change, but I won’t ever regret you.”
“Because you love me?”
“I’ve loved you ever since you kissed me in this tower,” he said. “And I’m going to love you the rest of your life if you let me.”
“Ben.” I leaned in to kiss him, but he pulled away.
“You saved me,” he whispered, and my God, I ached .
“I didn’t save you. You saved me. And I don’t mean just with Eric.” I held his gaze so he wouldn’t doubt a word I said. “I was drowning, Ben. I had nothing to hold on to and no reason to try to swim. And then, there you were, and for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t taking on water. Suddenly, I wasn’t drowning anymore.”
He watched me, stricken by my too honest words. “I wasn’t the only person throwing you a lifeline, Silas. I was just the only one you took a chance on.”
“Maybe,” I conceded, “but you didn’t let me drown.”
“I’ll never let you drown.” He kissed my brow, both my cheeks, my nose, then my lips. He took my hand and placed it over his heart. “This is yours, for however long you want it. It’s always been yours, Silas.”
I stomped my foot like a child. “There you go, saying shit so eloquently. I can’t talk like that.”
“I don’t want you to. I like the way you talk.”
Pressing my palm harder against his chest where his heart beat steady and strong, I said, “I’ll take care of this because I plan on wanting it forever. I plan on loving you forever.”
He looked down at me with the most unfathomable expression before pressing his lips to mine. I wondered—not for the first time—what I ever did to deserve someone like him. But I would love him with everything I was for as long as I could.
Sure, we were young. Maybe we weren’t forever, but I would take every single moment he gave me. We would have our own forever. And it would be fucking everything .
Love was a funny thing, terrifying and overwhelming, something I never thought I’d find. I thought love didn’t happen to people like me, but I was wrong.
Sometimes, you got lucky, and sometimes you had to fight tooth and nail for the smallest piece of happiness. My life was a little of both.
My happiness came in the form of a blond California diver. My heaven smelled like Irish Spring soap and chlorine. My love tasted like spearmint chewing gum.
I could never deserve him, but maybe the fact that he loved me could be redemption enough. We’d been through so much and bore the scars to prove it, but I wasn’t ashamed of them. They told the story of battles survived and victories won. They were signs of strength, not weakness.
Everyone was broken to some extent or another, and we were no exception. We’d just been lucky enough to find someone whose jagged edges fit. We weren’t perfect; we were scarred and bent, barely resembling the people we might’ve become. But we weren’t damaged beyond repair.
We were cracked, like pottery, but we’d been resealed with gold. We’d been beaten down but never destroyed. We were broken, but we were far from ruined. And it made us fucking beautiful.
After all, there’s a certain beauty to brokenness, don’t you think?