37. Chapter 37
Chapter thirty-seven
Benjamin
B enjamin followed Johnny up the rickety steps to The Rooftop Tavern on the edge of town. The old establishment was just as his friend had described while recounting numerous stories from youth to adulthood: walls loaded with photos of surrounding landmarks and adventurers who’d summited, rafted, or climbed them. Various antique snowshoes, backpacks, trekking poles, and lanterns adorned the shelves above and around the bar, which housed an impressive array of liquors. Twinkly, festive lights and bits of greenery framed each window and doorway. An updated version of “Jingle Bell Rock” played gently over the speakers.
The smell of warm, dry wood sent flashes of a cozy little cabin tumbling through his mind.
Last night was a mistake, Francesca .
A quick ‘you’d better enjoy this fuck, sweetheart, cuz it’s the only one you’re gonna get’ would have been nice.
He couldn’t keep going there, bringing himself to the brink of madness by replaying the hurt he caused over and over. She’d encircled herself in armor so quickly that the shift had given Benjamin whiplash. So easily she’d pretended that what happened between them had been meaningless.
But it wasn’t.
And it was killing him to play along with the fa?ade.
He hadn’t seen Francesca since she wrapped herself around Sheriff Beefcake two days ago. What he couldn’t determine was if she’d meant for the display to induce jealousy—which it had—or if it was for her own comfort. Neither was preferred, and it took everything in him not to bang on her neighboring hotel room door and ensure the living action figure wasn’t warming her bed. Touching her. Kissing what Benjamin had so recently kissed.
The rehearsal dinner would be starting in a few minutes. An affair considerably smaller and more casual than the fancy welcome dinner Jonathan’s mother, Patty, had insisted upon in order to “set the tone” for the week. While a more intimate gathering was typically preferred, Benjamin had reservations about there being fewer people to run interference between him and Francesca.
“Beer or scotch?”
His friend’s glittering amber eyes—so similar to hers —skimmed over Benjamin’s face, likely noticing the distressed clench of his jaw. Willing his expression to soften, he said, “I’ll have what you’re having.”
Jonathan held up two fingers to the bartender, who nodded, returning with a couple bottles of Dogfish Head 90 Minute IPA. They clinked and drank. The strong, hoppy flavor was comforting in a familiar way. While it had been a regular in the rotation of libations he and Johnny enjoyed back in their college years, he hadn’t had one since his friend had moved back to Leavenworth. It felt so long ago.
It had been so long ago.
“It’s great to have you here, Benji.” His friend settled a heavy hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Not to sound too sappy, but I’ve really missed you.”
Shame nipped at Benjamin’s chest.
“I’m sorry I haven’t made it out here sooner.”
“Hey, you don’t owe me an explanation,” Johnny soothed, brows pulling together.
“I feel like I do, though. I haven’t been there for you in so long. Why,” Benjamin’s voice caught a little in his throat. He threw back a swig of beer to steady his emotions. “Why did you even ask me to be your best man? I’m glad you did, but surely there's someone who deserves it more.”
Benjamin had played it over and over again in his mind. But no matter how he reconfigured it, it just didn’t make sense that Johnny would have chosen an absent friend to stand beside him at the altar.
Johnny’s face morphed into a knowing smile—a very fatherly gesture. Golden eyes scanned the darkness that shrouded Benjamin’s face. He’d always been able to do that, see into others, deduce what they were worried about or dwelling on without having to be told. Johnny had some serious people-reading talents. An impressive party trick in the past. Currently, Benjamin found it unsettling. What if his friend figured out how he’d behaved with Francesca? Would he be as reassuring if he knew how his sister had been used and discarded with little concern?
“I’ll be honest,” Johnny said as he shrugged, “I almost didn’t ask you.”
The admission burned but wasn’t surprising. “What changed your mind?”
“Not what. Who. Lucy convinced me to reach out.”
“Really? Your bride doesn’t even know me.”
“Ah, but she’s heard enough of my stories that she kind of does. She knows everything we’ve shared.” Johnny barked out a laugh at Benjamin’s cringe. “Before you ask, yes. She knows about all of it.”
“And she still pushed you to call, huh?”
“She did. It was something about how I ‘lit up’ when I talked about our shenanigans and how we’ve been there for each other—the way brothers should. Said if I didn’t do it, she’d snatch my phone and meddle.” Johnny’s eyes crinkled so hard that Benjamin suspected he did so to push back a few tears. “God, I love that woman.”
“I owe her a thank you.”
“You do. Zac too,” Johnny scoffed and took a pull of his beer.
Benjamin recoiled. “Why Zac?”
“If he hadn’t been such a flake over the last few years, you would have been runner-up to his Miss Leavenworth.”
Benjamin chuckled and shook his head. He glanced at his beer bottle and traced a drip of condensation rolling down the logo. “I am sorry. I mean it. I’ve been a piss-poor friend. I promise to start visiting you more often. But, uh, in the summer.”
A mirthful bark of laughter ricocheted off the weathered tavern walls. “Not everyone’s built for the snow. Take my lovely almost-wife for example . . .”
He followed Johnny’s gaze to the back entrance, where the woman in question practically skipped through the door. Todd followed close behind, moving with breezy, self-assured strides, and two bridesmaids whom Lucy had introduced, though their names momentarily escaped him. Benjamin held his breath, heart thundering in his ears as he waited anxiously for the maid of honor, bringing up the rear of the cavalcade.
When Francesca entered the dimly lit dining room, the glow of the disappearing sun set fire to the golden waves swept casually behind one ear. Dressed in tight jeans and a cozy green sweater, she looked positively adorable. In an instant, the room brightened and warmed.
But the moment her amber eyes snagged on Benjamin, they dulled, and the glow faded. She looked away and replaced the genuine grin with an expertly manufactured version.
I did that .
I’m the reason she has to pretend to be comfortable in a room where she shouldn’t have a single care.
“—despite the Costco-size jar of hot fudge and my impersonation of the Swedish Chef singing ‘Thong Song,’” Johnny finished, shoulders heaving with laughter.
“What?” Benjamin hadn’t heard a word his friend had been saying.
“Exactly.” He chuckled, wiping away a tear. He took a swig and then jabbed out his elbow. “Hold my beer, will ya?”
Before he could ask for clarifiers, Benjamin’s hands were full, and the happy couple embraced for a quick yet slightly inappropriate kiss. He set both bottles down and strode to where the wedding party had begun to congregate. Without meaning to, his feet led him to stand beside the maid of honor. He rationalized that it was because of their roles and nothing to do with what happened in the cabin.
“You look rested.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels.
“Let’s not. With the small talk.” She pivoted slightly toward him, arms crossed.
He nearly grinned at her effort to remain aloof. Despite her rigid shoulders and flat expression, he could practically feel her buzzing. “All I was saying was that you look nice.”
“Thanks,” she scoffed quietly.
Her fresh herbal scent accosted his senses as she ran a hand through her honey waves. Brain fogged with decadent memories, he reached forward and slid a lock aside to inspect her forehead. Surprisingly, she allowed the contact. His fingers grazed her skin while taking care not to touch too closely to the small, puckered cut she’d received the other day. Flashes of her tumbling, careening down the embankment stuck thickly in his throat, and he swallowed to banish the intrusive image .
“This will be a fun memory in the wedding pictures,” she lamented, gently brushing his hand away.
“A souvenir to remember our little adventure.”
Her lips pulled down in a scowl. “Sadly, I didn’t keep the receipt.”
“Francesca, I—”
“Food’s ready.” Miguel’s booming voice halted the hushed conversation and directed attention to the steaming taco bar along one of the walls. It was just as well, because Benjamin had no idea where his sentence was going, but he’d wager it wouldn’t have led anywhere productive.
“Has anyone tried his cell?” Miguel asked the rest of the group once dinner was done and the table and chairs had been pushed aside.
“I’ve texted and called a number of times.” Jonathan crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged. “Haven’t seen him since last night, though.”
“Should we take bets on whether he’s in jail?” Francesca’s melodic yet husky chuckle heated Benjamin from the inside out as he allowed his attention to be drawn to the petite blonde. She stood with hands braced on her hips, wearing an exasperated expression that also proclaimed her lack of surprise. Her cropped sweater shifted up as she combed her hair back with delicate fingers, flashing a patch of smooth, pale skin above her jeans.
He licked his lips, recalling how sweet she’d tasted, how soft she felt, writhing beneath his touch.
A rumbly throat clearing to his left snapped Benjamin out of the memory. Todd stood shoulder to shoulder beside him, displaying mild boredom at the fact that no one could locate the missing groomsman. “Eye fucking the groom’s little sister is not a good look.”
Benjamin turned abruptly, bumping into the Christmas tree he’d been hovering near since dinner had finished. A few baubles fell to the ground, and he crouched to retrieve them. “Eye . . . what? No, I’m just—”
“Salivating over our girl like a cartoon wolf does a chick wearing a red hood?” Todd turned to face Benjamin head-on. “Look, everyone else here is so focused on finding Zac that it’s given me plenty of time to size you up.”
Burying his momentary shock, Benjamin arched a brow and affixed his most smug smirk. “And what have you deduced?”
“That you’ve got it bad.” Ignoring the protesting scoff, Todd turned and watched Francesca. “Pretty sure she does too, and before you ask, no, she hasn’t said anything. I can just tell.”
Great. He needed to reign it in because if some stranger could spot his lust, then it would be a matter of time before Johnny did too. And the last thing he wanted was to cause an issue at his friend’s wedding.
“Care for a little advice?”
“No.”
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Todd hummed with a smile. “If she’s having as big of an impact on you as it appears to the casual observer, then fight for her. She’s worth it. There’s no one like Frankie.”
“It’s not that easy.” He absently hung the plastic balls back on the tree.
Clearly unimpressed by their placement among the branches, Todd shifted the ornaments around and then nodded in satisfaction. He turned his gaze back to Benjamin, boring his eyes deep then letting his lips curl into a mischievous grin. “Benji. It’s always that easy.”
“Ah, hell.” A deep, raspy voice drifted in on the frigid night air as the back entrance opened. Zac clomped in, kicking snow off his boots, and pulled off his down jacket. “Did I miss dinner? I’m starved.”
“Finally,” Johnny groaned, walking over to the tardy groomsman. “Where were you, man?”
“I lost track of time.” Zac shrugged, removing his scarf to hang it on the rack along with his coat.
“Nice hickey,” Johnny chastised.
Nostrils flaring, Francesca marched over and stepped in front of her brother then flicked the angry cluster of purple welts on Zac’s neck.
“Ow!”
“You selfish, unreliable sonofabitch.”
“Jesus, Frankie. Calm down,” he huffed, massaging the multicolored splotch on his neck.
“How hard is it to show up on time, especially for something important?” she demanded.
“Maybe I was doing something equally important,” he said with a smirk, waggling his eyebrows. “Jealous?”
In response, Francesca flicked Zac again.
“Shit, ok, ok. Uncle .”
“I swear to god, if you’re late tomorrow, you will have me to answer to. And while you may have enjoyed how you got those marks on your neck, you won’t love how I administer my damage.” Pride puffed up in Benjamin’s chest, though he knew he had no right to the feeling. She continued in a tone denoting violence. “This wedding isn’t about you. This is about your friend. You need to quit being a vengeful baby and get over the fact that you aren’t the best man. Show up for him like a fucking adult or you will spend every day hereafter wishing you had. Am I clear?”
Sporting a fresh wash of red across his cheeks, Zac nodded sheepishly.
“Great!” Francesca slapped her hands together and turned to the group. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
She barked directions until everyone was lined up where they needed to be. The processional walked through the routine twice before calling it a night. Each time, Francesca stood with a gap between her and Benjamin, and it took everything in his power not to touch her.