MERRITT
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Bennett does not, in fact, relax until we’re halfway through dinner.
I tried to reassure him that my dad wasn’t going to kill him and that he’s worried for nothing.
That we’re just hanging out, having Thanksgiving dinner, very casual, very laid-back.
But he’s spent the last twenty minutes completely rigid, his spine so straight I’m worried it might snap in the chair beside me, answering Dad’s questions with polite, respectful answers and pushing his food around his plate with a fork.
It’s unlike him to be so nervous, and it’s honestly kind of adorable that this is what he’s nervous about. I’ve never seen him be anything other than calm, collected, and confident in all the times we’ve been together.
Who knew that it would take meeting my dad to make the man lose his cocky, self-assured attitude?
Once Elliott brought up hockey and the conversation turned, I felt Bennett begin to loosen, slowly becoming less tense over the last few minutes.
Thank God. I was starting to worry that he was going to regret accepting my invitation to spend Thanksgiving with us and wish that he’d spent it home, alone.
I have to give credit where it’s due though.
My dad did catch us making out on the porch like horny teenagers, and I prepared for him to at least grill Bennett, but honestly, his inquisition wasn’t that bad.
I’m pretty sure my dad understands that I’ve been an adult far too long to give my boyfriend the third degree.
Fake boyfriend.
“I know your work schedule is pretty insane, but I’d love for you and Elliott to come to a game with Merritt. Whenever you’re free. I can always get you tickets and leave them at will call,” Bennett tells Dad as he picks up his drink and takes a sip.
“Sweet!” Elliott chimes in, and Dad chuckles, reaching out and rustling his hair.
Elliott grumbles, swatting his hand away, and I grin, watching the exchange.
He’s way too cool for that now.
Being a “preteen” and all.
Dad nods, tossing Bennett an easy smile. “That sounds great. I’d love to see you play. Hell, I haven’t been to a hockey game in probably ten years. Maybe even longer.”
“Oh man,” Bennett responds, shaking his head in disbelief. “No better time, then. These seats are great too. My parents don’t use the tickets, so they’re wide open. You just let me know when, and I’ll make sure they’re there for you.”
Every time he brings up his parents, it leaves me with a flurry of questions bouncing around in my head that I want to ask about. But it doesn’t feel like my place.
I don’t want to overstep.
“Tell you what. How about you shoot me a text with your schedule, and I’ll see if I can move a shift or two around and make it happen,” Dad says with a grin before rattling his cell number off to Bennett.
Okay, maybe I slightly underestimated this situation.
What’s going to happen once this… arrangement between us is done if he’s friends with Dad and Elliott?
My gaze slides to my little brother, who’s staring at Bennett with actual stars in his eyes.
Honestly, I’m not even sure I can blame him at this point.
I’m learning that Bennet is so much more than he appears on the surface. His charm isn’t just an act; it’s truly just a part of who he is.
And that confuses me.
I thought I had him all figured out. This womanizing playboy who doesn’t care about anything other than hockey and having women at his disposal.
Now, I’m learning that maybe that’s who he once was, but he doesn’t want to be that person anymore.
“Baby?” The low, gruff word is whispered close to my ear, and I startle, blinking as I turn to find Bennett staring at me, his brow slightly furrowed. I was lost in my head.
“Good?”
I nod, pasting on a smile. “Just thinking.”
Baby? Not Mer Bear, but baby? I have no control over the sudden flood of heat that trickles through me.
It’s for show, for my dad and Elliott, of course. They think we’re dating, but it’s still the first time he’s ever said that to me.
And now, suddenly, I want to hear it again. And again. And again.
Once we’re done with dinner, I start clearing the table with Bennett and Elliott’s help. We carry it all into the kitchen, and I turn to look at them both. “You guys can go play video games if you want. I can handle it.”
Bennett scoffs, glancing at my brother, then back at me. “Nah. Elliott and I’ve got this. You cooked all day, baby. Go take a bath or something, and we’ll do it.”
He’s… offering to clean the kitchen?
My mouth falls open. “Wow. Just when I thought you couldn’t get any more perfect.”
Bennett grins, waggling his eyebrows, and it’s so silly and ridiculous that I giggle. But also surprisingly thoughtful and sweet.
Elliott starts to gag beside him, folding over at the waist and clutching his stomach as he fake retches.
Boys.
Jesus.
Rolling my eyes, I shrug. “Okay, if you’re sure?”
“We’re sure. Right, my man?” Bennett asks Elliott, who begrudgingly stops the dramatics and nods, flashing me a smile.
“Yeah, we got this.”
Half an hour and the world’s fastest everything shower later, I steal Bennett away from my brother after they finish cleaning up from dinner and drag him up to my bedroom.
“Not gonna lie, feels kinda weird using the front door instead of sneaking through your window,” Bennett says as I close my bedroom door behind us.
Thankfully, Elliott all but sprinted to his room to play video games for the night, and my dad was passed out on the couch before they even finished cleaning the kitchen.
Which leaves… just us. Alone.
In my bedroom.
Which I’ve never really given much of a second thought about until recently. Partially because it’s been happening more frequently, and because every time we are, it seems like we end up skating on a very thin line.
It’s late, and realistically, he probably could’ve gone home after dinner, but I didn’t bring up his leaving, and he didn’t either, so here we are.
Alone.
“You can always leave out the window if you prefer?” I smart back, watching as the playful tilt of his lips widens.
I expect him to walk over to my bed and sit down, but he passes it, heading for my desk instead. His large hand curves around the back of the desk chair, and he sinks down into it.
That’s probably for the best since the last time we were in my bed together, things got heated… fast.
Walking over to the desk, I slide onto the top of it, my feet dangling idly off the side by where he’s sitting.
Bennett looks up at me, and his face softens. “Thank you for tonight. For inviting me to spend Thanksgiving with your family. I know you didn’t have to do that, and… I appreciate it, Merritt. Seriously.”
His words hit me directly in the chest, and it makes something strange form beneath my ribs.
A tug of emotion, like a cord being wound tight.
I push down that surge of emotion that bubbles in my throat and tip my chin, offering him a smile. “It’s nothing. I… liked having you here.”
“Wow.” He whistles, and his blue eyes glint with amusement. “I should’ve recorded that so I can replay it later when I get sad. Merritt St. Pierre likes me. Who would’ve thought?”
I reach out and shove his shoulder.
He’s infuriating. Still.
“You’re not so bad.” I hum with an eye roll. “I guess.”
I think maybe the truth is that Bennett and I are friends now. We’re obviously in this fake dating arrangement, and I’m ridiculously attracted to him, but if you take that away…
He’s become someone I talk to daily, that I’ve given pieces of me that I don’t give away easily…
Meeting my dad and Elliott. Talking about my struggles with my ADHD. Leaning on him when I need a little strength. That’s what friends do.
I spin the ring on my index finger and look up, catching his gaze. “Can I ask you something?”
“Yes, Merritt, you have fantastic tits, okay?” he responds immediately, and I laugh, shaking my head at his constant flirting.
“I’m serious.”
He nods. “Okay. Yeah, anything.”
“I know you said that your parents… they work a lot and aren’t nearby, but do they ever come to watch you play?”
The grin on his face slips, and his expression sobers as his Adam’s apple bobs with a swallow.
It feels like the wrong question to ask, and immediately, I wish that I hadn’t.
I open my mouth to apologize, but he says, “Sometimes. It’s… a lot less frequent than they used to.”
He lifts his hand and rakes it through his hair, averting his gaze down to the junk journal sitting on the top of my desk. He drags a finger over the smooth red leather of the front cover.
He stays quiet, not meeting my gaze.
“Why?” My voice is gentle when I ask because I know that I’m treading in uncharted water. “Why don’t they support your dream?”
His piercing blue eyes slam into mine, and emotion, raw and fresh, shines back.
“It is your dream, isn’t it? Playing professionally after graduation?”
Bennett nods but doesn’t respond, not for a few torturously slow seconds that tick by.
“My dad’s schedule… The fact that they live in New Hampshire now, and I’m still in NOLA.
But I think it’s just an excuse a lot of the time.
Tried and true. They don’t come to watch me play because they think that hockey is an extracurricular, a hobby for me.
They don’t believe that it’ll ever become a career,” he finally murmurs.
“In their heads, why feed into something that’s never going to happen? ”
I don’t know, because they’re his parents? And even if he never made it professionally, it’s still something that he’s incredibly talented at. Something that brings him happiness. Why wouldn’t they want to support that?
“Don’t… Don’t look at me like that,” he says roughly.
“Like what?”
“Like you pity me or something. I don’t need them there, Merritt. I play just fine without having anyone in the stands. I’ve been doing it for years—this is nothing new. It’s not a big deal.”
Except I can tell that’s a lie. It is a big deal to him, and I know that just by the way he’s throwing up defenses the moment it’s questioned.
It’s almost like I’m intimately familiar with that very same mechanism or something.