Chapter 59
Paloma
It’s quiet, almost somber in the cabin of Bennett’s car as we drive back to Waterfell.
I’d barely spoken more than three full sentences through dinner, answering all Helen’s well-meaning questions with simple, one-word responses. I’d almost thrown up when Ethan squeezed Bennett’s shoulder as he served our desserts.
Bennett reached for my hand at one point and I flinched, pulling it back and away from him, which only served to make us both more upset.
He sits quietly, carefully driving one-handed while his other palm rests firmly on my thigh. It’s only when we’re closing in on the downtown streets that he finally asks, “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” I snap out. He looks at me, pulling to a stop at the red light. His hand reaches forward to wipe an embarrassing stray tear from the corner of my eye and I flinch back.
“All better.”
I grab the handlebar above me, suddenly feeling like the entire car is spinning.
“Actually, do you think you could drop me at the dorms?” I don’t ask until we’re pulling up to Bennett’s townhouse, feeling even more ridiculous since we’re already here and I’m asking him to cart me around like a car service.
“Oh.” Bennett shakes his head a little as he parks on the curb. “I—yeah, of course. If that’s what you want?”
He wants to ask more, but he’s scared to—enough that his hand on my thigh retracts and squeezes the steering wheel over and over, treating the leather like a stress ball.
“I’m just tired,” I lie.
Bennett nods again, like it makes complete sense. His fingers release their white-knuckle grip as he angles his body toward mine. “Sorry, I think . . . I’ve just gotten used to our routine now. I sleep better when you’re in bed with me.”
From anyone else, it might sound like a line. But Bennett’s words are dripping with a sobering mix of anxiety and honesty, a deep blush staining his cheeks at the admission.
Bennett likes his routines. When I first started staying over at his place, he’d had to adapt to me being there, in his space. Now, to take that away from him feels wrong. And I desperately want to be nearer to him, even if it’s wrong for me to want that.
My throat tightens, tears that I’ve held back all evening threatening to spill again. A war rages in my heart—is it better to give him this or to break it cleanly?
And the inevitable questions of what if?
What if I did tell him? What if he believed me, if he understood why I did what I did? What if it was all okay and he wanted me anyway?
“Okay.” I nod. “Yeah, I’ll stay with you. I like our routine, too.”
The beautiful, rare smile is enough to make the pain of it all worth it.
Once again, no one is home when we get there. It’s only when we’re inside his spacious room—nearly triple the size of my dorm room on campus—that I finally feel myself starting to lose any grip I had on the idea of this new life. This dream of something different than what I came from.
“Can I shower?”
“Of course,” he says, not pausing in his movements as he heads to the shower and starts it for me, making the water just the right temperature and laying out a towel and clothes for me.
Taking such gentle care of me it aches.
“Do you want me to join you?” he asks, an edge of vulnerability slipping into the words.
I shake my head, turning away from him before I can see the hurt of my rejection. Before he can see the tears in my eyes.
Playing the victim since day one, are we? Tell him if you want, but don’t go around telling him a lie. Ethan’s words play on a loop, only cementing my decision.
You are not who you’re pretending to be.
My stomach swirls, tears joining the water as it cascades over my face and arms. No matter how hot I turn it, I can’t erase the feeling of being dirty. I feel unclean again, the same way I felt at fifteen, sixteen, seventeen—my body turning from something I cherished into this thing I hate.
I hate myself.
And for a moment, I thought I could have it all be different. That I’d found my way with a full scholarship to a school I’d never afford otherwise. That I would be smart and start a future that wasn’t like my mother’s—so that no matter how much I looked like her, I would never be like her again.
I’d gotten out, and even if that was all the good I got to have, it was enough. I didn’t need anything else.
Only . . . I met Bennett.
And I saw the promise of something greater in his eyes. The kind of gentle care that makes me feel sleepy around him, like I can finally rest and know with certainty no one can hurt me.
Trust him. Tell him everything.
I’ve told him bits and pieces. I know he’s brilliant and has put some of them together.
But this is his family.
I can’t hurt him like that.
And selfishly, I won’t risk seeing betrayal or disgust in his eyes when he looks at me.
There’s only one real choice.