Chapter Nine #3
I warn myself to ignore not just the fragrant scent that envelopes me but the twisting of my heart at her words. Words I wish she meant for a lot longer than this one crisis.
“Ben!”
My father’s call interrupts my wayward thoughts.
“Coming, Dad!”
She steps back and gives him a reassuring smile. “I’ll get his breakfast going. Want anything?” she asks.
I shake my head. “No, thanks. I’m not hungry.” Not for food, anyway.
I am hungry for Summer. All of her, and not just sex. Her support today makes me realize how much I long for more than she is able to give. We could be a good team … if the world stage wasn’t waiting.
* * *
Summer
I finish cooking breakfast for Ben’s father, which he devours in less than two minutes flat.
Scrambled eggs and toast. That is about all I can manage for him, but he doesn’t seem to care what is on the plate.
I don’t know if Nate is hungover or just starving after his night in jail, but he grunts about how good the food is as he eats.
I covertly study him, my gaze going from Nate to Ben and back again.
Although Nate’s skin is sallow and his face drawn, I see traces of his son in his features.
He probably was a handsome man years ago, before he let life beat him down.
I swallow over the lump in my throat, trying not to let my emotions overwhelm me.
Ben has enough to deal with without me getting upset on his behalf.
He waits for his father to finish eating before turning a kitchen chair around and straddling the back, facing the older man.
“Dad, we need to talk.”
I take that as my cue. “I’ll go into the other room,” I say. I can finish the dishes later.
“No.” Ben meets my gaze, imploring me with his eyes. “Stay. Please.”
I nod and pick up his father’s plate, carrying it over to the sink before leaning against the counter and waiting. I don’t know where this conversation will go, and my heart beats hard inside my chest.
“Dad, here’s the situation,” Ben begins. “This was a one-shot deal. I won’t be bailing you out again. If you get arrested, you’re on your own.”
His father’s shoulders hunch over, his posture defeated. “It’s never happened before.”
Ben sets his jaw, his shoulders tense and straight.
“And it can’t happen again. Either you get yourself help—real help—or I won’t be answering the phone when you need a bar tab paid or God forbid you kill someone driving drunk.
” Ben’s face flushes red as he speaks, and I know, without a doubt, how difficult this is for him.
I didn’t want to embarrass Nate Hollander by staying and listening to whatever Ben intended to say, but I now realize that is part of his plan. Shock, embarrass, and hopefully get his father to hear him and finally get help for his problem.
Ben is a good, decent man, and he wouldn’t want to abandon his father in his time of need, but it is obvious, both from the run-down condition of the house and Nate’s lack of caring about much of anything, that Ben has no choice.
“I don’t know if I can stop.” Nate stares at his hands clutched tightly together.
Ben’s gaze narrows. “You mean you don’t know if you want to. It’s not going to be easy, Dad, but I’ll support you as long as you’re trying.”
The silence in the wake of Ben’s statement is deafening, I think.
“I have a friend who goes to AA.” Nate finally speaks up. “Maybe I could call him.” He glances up at his son, as if asking whether that is enough of a concession.
“That’s a start. But you have to want to sober up. You need to face your problems and your life. You want to do that? I’ll be there.” He tips his head toward me. “You ready?” he asks, obviously not expecting a definitive answer from his father right now … or miracles after dropping his ultimatum.
“I, umm, I wanted to wash the dirty dishes.” I gesture to the pan and plate I left in the sink.
Ben shakes his head. “You already cleaned up his mess. He can handle this one,” he says in a firm voice that tells me he wouldn’t accept any argument.
“Okay.” I walk toward where Ben stands in the kitchen entrance, pausing by his father at the table. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Hollander. I hope you feel better soon.”
He lifts his head. “Thank you, Summer. I appreciate your help.”
It is the first acknowledgment he’s given me, and I smile before letting Ben lead me out of the house and back to his car.
I wait until we are settled and on the way back to Manhattan before I speak. “That was strong, the way you handled him.”
“I feel like shit,” he says, his words honest and raw.
“Of course you do.” I reach over and grab his hand, holding on tight. He can drive with his free hand. “But you had no choice. You can’t enable him and you’re right. The next time, he could kill or hurt someone … or himself.”
“I hope he realizes that himself.”
I lift his hand and press a kiss to his skin. “You did the best you could.”
“I wish to God you didn’t have to see him like that,” he says.
“I don’t judge you based on your father,” I say. “I’m just glad I could be there for you.”
“I wish you always could be.”
I know the words slipped out, the emotions of the day at the surface for Ben.
And my eyes fill with tears because he’ll never know how much I wish the same thing.