Chapter 25
Remi
A heavy pressure at the base of my skull pulls me from sleep. I keep my eyes shut as I work through a wave of nausea.
Shit.
Is it nighttime still? Morning?
I need to text Benson to cover for me tomorrow. Today?
Fingers in my hair have me stilling. With considerable effort, I peek one eye open, half expecting Colton or possibly my mother. Except I know that touch.
The room is dark, but I find the faint outline of Benson sitting next to me. His back is to the wall, his face aimed in my direction but his features lost to me in the dim light.
“Time?” I ask, my throat feeling scratchy.
Benson flashes the number twelve with his fingers. It has to be midnight, which means I passed out for close to seven hours.
I wince when the pain at the back of my neck wraps around my head like a vise. Benson bends down to kiss my forehead before slipping off the bed. I don’t have a chance to ask where he’s going before he’s out the door.
I close my eyes, time passing at a crawl as a metaphorical anaconda rhythmically squeezes my head. I nearly jolt when the mattress depresses. The next second, a soft fabric is being set over my forehead, cool pressure making me moan. Benson’s fingers run through my hair again.
I mean to tell him I won’t be able to work today.
That someone needs to check on the chicks.
I should get up and do it myself, but a single shift toward the edge of the bed and I know that isn’t happening.
The stab of pain through my skull and the nausea rolling up from my gut have me curling back into my prior position.
The rumble I can feel against my cheek must be Benson, his words vibrating through the mattress. I suspect he’s chiding me, albeit gently. His fingers card through my hair again and again, the ice pack against my forehead soothing some of the pressure trying to dive inside my skull.
Sleep pulls me back under swiftly.
The next time I rouse, it’s morning. Light is seeping past the edges of the drapes, although not much. Someone must have closed them after I passed out yesterday.
Benson, most likely.
He’s still here, asleep next to me, my blurry vision making out his form and the discarded ice pack nearly falling off the mattress.
Fuck. My watch didn’t wake me. Did I forget to charge it? Or…
No, it’s sitting on the nightstand.
Did Benson take it off my wrist?
It takes herculean effort to get enough brain cells in working order to reach for my phone. Benson stirs with the movement, concern on his face as he blinks several times.
“Need to, uh…”
My words peter out, my head foggy and the sharp needles behind my eyes making it hard to think.
Benson intercepts my hand, kissing my palm before tucking me firmly in his grip. He appears to mouth, “Sleep.”
“Ben…”
He lets me go to sign, the motions somewhat stilted with him up on one elbow. ‘There’s nothing you need to do today. It’s covered.’
“The chicks. I didn’t—”
‘I checked on them last night,’ he assures me, his brown eyes soft. ‘They’re fine.’
“But…”
His mouth twitches the tiniest bit before he lifts his hands again. ‘Your mom is watching over them today. She said she’ll stop in every hour. Your dad is handling the rest of the petting farm. And Jackson’s got the stables. There’s nothing you need to do.’
“And you?” I ask, my throat tight.
‘I’ll be here.’
I pull in a breath, closing my eyes for a moment as an especially bad wave hits. When I open my eyes, Benson is frowning. “Waves,” I say, hoping it makes sense.
He nods. ‘Are you thirsty? Water? Tea?’
I pause. “Is it ginger tea?”
He nods again. ‘Ash dropped off a…thermos?’
I smile at the fingerspelled word, Benson’s expression making it clear he’s unsure if there’s a proper sign for it. “That’s the most descriptive. You could also use ‘hot bottle.’” I demonstrate the two signs for him before easing into a sitting position.
Benson reaches past me, snagging the thermos off the nightstand. He uncaps it and hands it over, and I take a small sip. The ginger helps with the nausea, although it takes a while to kick in.
“Thanks.”
Benson nods, setting the thermos aside. That’s when I notice the large cardboard box on the floor of my room.
“Ben… Did you bring Mouse over?”
He looks sheepish. ‘I figured I might be here a while. Hope that’s okay?’
Despite the ice pick in my head, the tension radiating down my spine and through my shoulders, the rolling in my stomach, and the pain behind my eyes, I find myself feeling warm and almost floaty.
I nod my fist before lying back down. “Would you talk to me? So I can feel you?”
Benson doesn’t miss a beat. Fingers rub gently against my scalp as I close my eyes, the purr of Benson’s voice like distant thunder promising rain and sunshine through lilac clouds. Promising life and growth and the most beautiful colors spilling across the earth.
If my life were a canvas, I would want it to look just like that.
My body aches when I open my eyes. I’ve been in and out of it all day. I remember my waking moments in flashes.
An ice pack against my forehead or behind my neck. Pain meds and water. Tea. A broad hand running over my back or through my hair. Benson.
Always Benson.
He’s beside me still, a familiar lump moving inside his shirt pocket. When he sees I’m awake, he lifts his hand to sign, ‘OK?’
I teeter my own hand. Truth be told, I feel like shit. Just not quite as bad as the past several hours.
‘Hungry?’ Benson asks.
I shake my head. ‘Not yet.’
It takes me a second to realize Benson is wearing his pajama bottoms. Is it really that late already?
‘Report?’ I ask.
Benson’s lips curve into a smile. ‘Chicks are fine. Your mom sent a few pictures if you’d like to see. August decided to name his chick Jezebel.’
I snort, the laugh causing a brief flare of pressure in my head.
Benson rubs my arm until I stop wincing. ‘Animals are all fed and cared for. Ash stopped by a few times to bring me food, even though I’m perfectly capable of getting it myself. And your family hopes you feel better soon. Colton looked…sad when he came by.’
I nod, settling my head on a pillow. ‘I think he’s realizing things are changing. Which isn’t bad. Just…different.’
‘Because of me?’
‘Not just. He wants to live with Noah. I know he does. Now…he doesn’t have many excuses left to stay. It’s hard for him, being away from his family.’
Benson considers that. ‘I understand having a hard time with change. But… I’ve never equated closeness with physical distance. I realize not everyone is that way.’ He pauses, working through something in his head. ‘But I can’t imagine a distance that would change what I feel for the people I love.’
I let out a breath. ‘You’re very loyal. Aren’t you?’
He glances down as Mouse pokes her head out of his pocket, the rodent’s whiskers twitching. ‘I don’t have many friends or loved ones, Remi. The ones who stick are there for a reason.’
Benson runs a finger over Mouse’s head, so large compared to the tiny field mouse. He doesn’t meet my eye, and I wonder if it’s because of what he revealed, whether by accident or choice.
There are few people in Benson’s life he’s close to. Few people, perhaps, he’s ever felt comfortable letting past his walls.
Yet I have no doubt I’m among that group.
‘You’re smiling,’ Benson notes, still not meeting my eye. ‘Feeling better?’
‘Not quite,’ I tell him honestly. ‘But that doesn’t mean I don’t have reasons to smile. A big one is sitting right next to me.’
Benson’s lips twitch, his eyes still downcast as he signs, ‘Mouse is tiny.’
I shove his arm gently. ‘You know exactly what I’m talking about.’ Huffing, I add, ‘Thank you. For this. You didn’t have to go to so much trouble, but I appreciate you being here.’
He frowns, warm eyes meeting mine at last. ‘It’s no hardship, Remi. I want to be here. I…’ He trails off, hands suspended midair.
‘What?’
‘Just thinking about something Steph said to me recently.’
I squeeze Benson’s leg. ‘Care to share? Or is it personal?’
He shakes his head a little, hands lifting.
‘You said the other day I…accommodate you. That I sign, among other things. But I’ve never thought of it that way.
I’ve enjoyed relearning and expanding on my knowledge of ASL.
Signing to you isn’t inconvenient, and sometimes I prefer it to speaking.
And this? Being here while you’re dealing with a migraine?
Helping in what little ways I can? It’s no trouble, Remi.
None of it is. And I think I’m realizing I shouldn’t assume I am, either. ’
It takes me a second to parse through his meaning. ‘You feel like you’re too much trouble?’
His answer is immediate. ‘Often, yes. But you don’t make me feel that way.’
My chest aches. Remembering Benson’s words from the other day, I move my hands softly through the air. ‘I wouldn’t be dating you if I didn’t respect the person you are, Ben.’
He nods his fist once. ‘Yeah.’
I capture Benson’s hand, not to stop his tapping fingers but just to place a kiss on his palm the way he did to me. His eyes hold on a spot near my cheek, his thumb ghosting over the skin there before he tucks some of my hair away behind my ear.
‘You’re so much quicker now when you sign,’ I tell him, my own movements sluggish with my drowsiness. ‘Have you noticed?’
‘Am I?’
I nod, letting my eyes slip shut for a moment as he combs through my hair. ‘Fluid, like it’s becoming muscle memory, not something you have to stop and interpret in your head first. And Christ, Ben, if you keep petting me, I’m going to fall back asleep.’
‘You should. You need rest.’
I’ve been sleeping all day, but he’s not wrong. My body is exhausted, my mind still foggy.
Benson starts talking, likely in an attempt to lull me into dozing. I watch his mouth for a while, catching a few words. There’s “Buttercup” and “bigger already,” “peaceful” and “flowers.” I want to stay awake. To see more of Benson’s thoughts about the ranch.
But I’m floating away all too soon.
For the first time in a day and a half, Benson isn’t in my room when I wake. It’s morning again, light peeking around the drapes.
My mom lifts her hands from beside me, a plate of food on her lap. ‘Pah! You’re awake.’
It takes me a second to push myself upright and clear the cobwebs from my mind. ‘Were you planning on shoving that down my throat if I didn’t wake up soon?’
From the shake of her shoulders, she chuckles. ‘Hungry?’
I nod, a dull ache still permeating my head but my stomach rumbling for the first time since the migraine took me out. My mom passes the plate over, sitting still while I inhale my first few bites of sausages and biscuits. Fuck, Ash makes the best biscuits.
Once I’ve slowed down enough to breathe, my mom lifts her hands again. ‘Sometimes I wonder if I made the wrong choice so many years ago.’
‘What choice?’
‘Your CI.’ Her smile is wan. She gathers her silver-brown hair into a ponytail behind her head before letting the strands fall, something I’ve seen her do a thousand times or more over the years.
‘When you were young, the doctors were so adamant that it was the right choice. The only choice to improve your quality of life. But we both know now that’s bull.
And I see you get washed away by these migraines, all your beautiful color gone, and I wonder if we’re at fault for that. Your dad and I.’
I let out a breath, setting my fork down. ‘Anyone can get migraines.’
‘I know, but you’ve never needed that CI, Remi. You’re perfect as you are, and I’m sorry for taking that choice away from you when you were young.’
‘Hey…’ I reach for my mom’s hand, holding tight for a moment.
It’s not the first time she’s expressed conflicting emotions over the cochlear implant I got when I was two.
But I’ve told her before, and I’ll tell her again—there’s nothing to apologize for.
‘You did what you felt was best at a critical time for my language development. I don’t regret it.
I’m proud of being Deaf, and you’re right; I don’t need sound to be happy or whole.
I’d be fine without my CI. But you know what you gave me? ’
‘What?’ my mom asks, wiping a tear away before it can fall down her cheek.
I smile at her, every bit of it genuine.
‘You gave me the tools to hear chicks peep for the first time. To hear what your laughter sounds like and the soft patter of rain. You gave me unconditional support when I wanted to embrace being Deaf. Y’all learned sign with me.
You never pressured me, never told me to wear my CI.
It’s my choice now. I don’t have to put it on.
But I can. If these migraines are the trade-off to enjoying sound every once in a while, that’s a choice I’m making, not you. ’
She nods, her lips pressed tightly together. ‘It’s so hard to see you hurt.’
‘I know. But you all make sure I’m taken care of. Which reminds me…’
My mom’s lips quirk. ‘Benson is checking on the chicks. He’ll be back soon.’
I’m not surprised she knew what I was going to ask. I give her a nod, and she takes my empty plate. Ruffling my hair, she leans over to kiss the side of my head before standing. Her one-handed, ‘I love you,’ is so familiar I can’t stop my smile.
I let out a breath as she leaves the room. Mouse’s box is still on the floor beside the bed, but I don’t see the rodent. Benson must have her. There’s a thermos on the nightstand, and I find more ginger tea inside, warm still. Beside that is a bottle of water, pain meds…
And a cluster of wildflowers.
The stems are freshly picked, the spring beauty blooms white with pink-tipped stamens. I lift the bundle to my nose, breathing in the faint floral scent still clinging to the petals. Standing gingerly, I make my way to the window and push aside the drapes.
The sun is shining, the ranch an expanse of green that looks especially bright after the dimness of my room this past day and a half. Somewhere out there is Benson, a thought that’s more comforting than I ever knew it could be.
He’s here. Because of me. Because it’s where he wants to be.
And, ohh, I’m in so much trouble when it comes to that man. I have no defense against him.
I don’t even want one.