CHAPTER 18
HOLLY
“I can’t believe we’re cooking over a real fire. It’s like The Oregon Trail!” I bounce on the springy couch cushions. “We’d better not die of dysentery.”
Ben laughs while stirring the soup, his face flushed from being so close to the flames.
When we got back from our hike, I was surprised to find the return trip had taken longer than our way out. Then, my skin tightened with guilt, realizing Ben had to be exhausted. He’d probably pushed himself just to give me an adventure this weekend.
Of course, he doesn’t know that every minute I spend with him is an emotional, wild ride.
But, before I could suggest a nap, Ben grabbed an armful of wood and told me we needed to get the fire going for dinner. Apparently, cooking over an open flame isn’t as efficient as a stovetop.
Much cooler though.
“If you want the real Oregon Trail experience, we’d get this fire going outside. Sleep in makeshift shelters built out of whatever we found in the woods.”
As background noise to his description, the wind blows through the trees just outside the cabin, knocking branches against the roof. The thought of sleeping on the icy ground and dealing with those chilly gusts all night sends a visible shiver quaking down my spine.
Ben chuckles at my reaction.
“No, thanks. Not now at least. Maybe when summer comes around.”
Sleeping under the stars on a warm night sounds much more appealing.
When I glance Ben’s way, I find him staring at me with a curious expression. I don’t have time to interpret it before he turns back to the fire.
There’s a metal arm with a hook that stretches out over the flames, and from it hangs a pot he dumped a load of ingredients into earlier.
“What’s on the menu?” My stomach finished digesting our simple lunch a while ago and is starting to complain.
“Chicken and vegetable soup. Shouldn’t be too much longer now.”
As I sit on the couch and watch him stir the mixture, a sense of contentment flows over me. Every Sunday, I prep my meals for the week just to take some of the pressure off my busy schedule. Even with all my planning, it’s still a lot of work and time-consuming. But, tonight, Ben is cooking for me. And in a ruggedly attractive way.
“You’re a certified mountain man.”
“You impressed?”
He grins back at me, and I realize he hasn’t shaved in a couple of days. Suddenly, I get the urge to run my knuckles over his cheeks just to feel the coarseness against my skin.
I have to clear my throat before I can answer, “Maybe. What other secret talents are you hiding?”
Ben runs his eyes over me, slow and searching.
Now, I’m the one with flushed skin, but I don’t have the fire as an excuse.
What’s he looking for? Do I want to know?
In the spring. We’ll talk about his hot gazes in the spring.
“Maybe I should show you some of them.” One of his eyebrows rises, just cresting over the rim of his glasses.
Holy goodness gracious.
I think my panties just caught on fire. I don’t know if he meant that to sound so dirty, but I’m on the verge of jumping off this couch to straddle him and beg for a detailed demonstration.
Instead, I struggle to find a witty response, ending up with a weird, strangled, “Mmhmm?”
His grin is back, making him appear wicked. But, when he talks, it’s so casual that I question my entire interpretation of the situation.
“Dinner’s ready.” The spoon in his hand hovers above the open soup pot, and I can see the steam rising off the top. “Could you bring the bowls over?”
Trying not to look like I’m running away, I hop up and retreat to the kitchen.
When I grab the waiting bowls on the table, I notice one has measurements on the inside. Even when eating, he has to be precise.
As I hold them out, Ben spoons in our fire-cooked dinner, and excitement sets off little sparks in my chest again. This experience is so novel.
Wearing an oven mitt, Ben pushes the metal arm away from the fire and covers the pot with a lid before taking his bowl out of my grasp.
I settle in at the table, spoon in hand, ready to take my first bite, when Ben stops me with a chiding cluck.
“Careful. That’s crazy hot. Also, you’ll probably want this.” After rummaging in one of the cabinets, he hands me a tiny saltshaker. “Sorry. Had to make the soup low sodium. ’Cause … you know.” He waves at his abdomen.
I wish I could just rip out my kidney, stuff it in him, and yell, You’re free! Eat whatever and drink however much you want!
At least he doesn’t have to wait much longer.
“No problem. I’d rather it be too bland than too salty. I can always add more salt but can’t take it away once it goes in.” I grin at him, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. Time to change subjects. “So, you never answered my question.”
“Which one?”
From his trusty bag of food supplies, Ben pulls out a loaf of crusty-looking bread. And, yeah, maybe the sight has drool pooling in my mouth. Looks like I found a new sexy image to add to my spank bank: Ben handing me bread.
What girl doesn’t want a hot guy offering her carbs?
Pushing away the inappropriate thoughts, I try to keep the conversation light. “What other outdoorsy things can you do?”
Ben smirks before blowing on a spoonful of soup. Unfortunately, that brings my focus to his lips. I study their shape, how the upper lip is just a bit fuller than the bottom.
Would he like it if I sucked on it? Maybe gave it a gentle bite?
I pinch the back of my arm—hard.
Get it together, Holly! You’re not in some low-budget porno where you can go around, biting people! He’s not a piece of meat, so just try to act like a normal human being rather than a sex-crazed animal!
My inner tirade is broken off by him answering, “I can start a fire without matches or steel and flint. It takes forever, but I’ve done it a few times.”
Takes forever? My panties are proof that he only needs one look.
Ben continues talking, unaware that I have absolutely no control over my hormones, “I can fish with just a line and a hook. We joked about the shelter, but I could actually make something that would keep us relatively warm through the night.”
“I believe you. Still don’t want to try it.” Somehow, I keep my tone light.
He steals my move and sticks his tongue out at me. Not helping with my fixation. “Got it. I also know a bunch of different knots. That came in handy during rock climbing.”
“You went rock climbing with your grandpa?” Doesn’t seem like a common retirement activity.
“Nah. He was getting older and not really interested in that. I used to go with Fred all the time when he lived in Philly. Even road-tripped to Kentucky to climb in Red River Gorge. Grandpa Ben and I would stick to hiking and camping.”
“So, he’s the one who taught you all that stuff?”
“Yeah. He was in the military and learned a lot about survival from it before he became a lawyer, and the rest was self-taught. Mainly after he retired. He didn’t have to live out here. Grandpa Ben was pretty well off. Could’ve set himself up nicely in the city. But, when he left the firm, one of the first things he did was buy this place and move into it.”
“Do you know why?” Finally, I’ve stopped obsessing over my attraction. When Ben talks about his grandfather, I simply get the urge to settle in and listen.
“Said he’d spent enough of his life in an office. Wanted to breathe in the fresh air every day. He even quit smoking when he moved out here.” Ben’s smile melts away, leaving a dark, troubled look in its place. His soup forgotten, he leans back in his chair and stares out the window even though everything on the other side of the glass is solid black.
Curiosity scrapes at my nerves, but I don’t want to pry into something that’ll hurt Ben.
“So, you visited him out here a lot?”
He nods, still not looking at me. “Every summer. For a few weeks at a time. Sometimes, I’d come out on weekends. Spent a couple of Christmases here. We’d just hike and paint and watch movies. Wasn’t anything spectacular, but those were some of the best days of my life.”
When Ben turns to me, his expression makes me want to cry. His smile is laced with a deep pain. It’s in the shine of his eyes and the twitch of his cheek muscle. The way his jaw clenches down after he’s done speaking.
When did I get to the point where I could read his face so well?
“Sounds perfect to me.”
Ben traces his eyes over me, but I don’t get heat this time. Instead, it feels like an embrace. Comfort.
“He would’ve liked you. He was a no-nonsense kind of guy. Gruff and stubborn but caring. You remind me of him sometimes.”
“You think I’m gruff?” I pretend to scowl.
Softness replaces some of the tension in his face, and the curve of his lips loses its forced nature.
“Maybe. After all those years of legal jargon and double talk and working with loopholes, I think he got tired of it. When he retired, he was all about being straightforward. No lying. Not putting up with liars and idiots. And you … you’re just like that. So, yeah, I think the two of you would have gotten along.”
“I wish I could’ve met him.”
In my mind, Grandpa Gerhard looks like Ben’s father but with a few extra wrinkles in his face and a shock of white hair. I imagine him sitting in the bedroom I slept in, expression serious as he works on creating a beautiful painting of a mother deer and her baby. Then, I see him sitting on the couch with a little boy whose light-red hair curls around his ears and the edges of his glasses. In a deep voice, the man reads classic adventure stories to his adorable grandson before taking an old movie off the shelf and sliding it into the outdated VCR.
That’s a man I would’ve loved to know.
So, why didn’t I get the chance? What made him take his own life?
No matter how curious I am, I won’t make Ben confront the pain of his past if he doesn’t want to.
Still, it’s like he reads the questions on my face because he goes ahead and answers them. “Grandpa was never the type to do what he was told. Always went his own way.” His mouth quirks in a half-smile, half-grimace. “Even though he quit, the smoking still got to him. Lung cancer. Past the stage where much could be done. Doctors told him to move closer to a hospital. Start chemo treatments.”
Ben glares at the table. Without thinking about it, I reach out for his hand, twining our fingers together. He returns my grip but still keeps his eyes down.
“What happened?” Silly question, as I already know the answer.
He’s quiet for a bit before continuing, “My parents were planning on him moving in with them. Arranged everything, so he’d be as comfortable as possible. A few days before they were set to get him, we got a call from the police in the area that he’d been found about a mile from here. Sitting in the forest.” A deep sigh echoes his pain. “When you have a lot of money like Grandpa did, you can get pretty much anything you want. Including a bottle of pills. They said it wasn’t painful. Just like he went to sleep.”
I notice a single tear trace its way down Ben’s cheek. He doesn’t seem to feel it, and I don’t want to interrupt him. So, we just let it fall.
Holly places her free hand over top of our joined ones, and that gentle touch draws me back from the toxic darkness of my memories. I realize my face is wet, and I do my best to wipe away the tears. This wasn’t my plan for the weekend. Yeah, I thought I’d tell Holly about Grandpa Ben because he was important to me. But I didn’t think it’d hit me so hard. Not after all these years.
Now, she’s got this look on her face, like I’m a wounded animal she has come across and has no idea how to help.
I try to smile, but I don’t think it comes out right. “It’s been a while. But I still miss him.”
“Of course you do. God, Ben, getting that news, it must’ve been horrible.” She rubs her hand over my forearm, soothing me with each stroke.
“Yeah. I mean, I didn’t want him to suffer. So, if that’s how he wanted to go, then okay. He could’ve told me. I don’t think I would’ve tried to stop him.” Who really knows though? The man was everything to me. Maybe I would’ve begged him to stay as long as possible. “It’s just … I never got to say good-bye.”
That’s what hurts the most. Him leaving without a word. And me never getting to tell him how much he meant to me.
I always thought I’d have more time.
“That really is the worst, isn’t it? One minute, they’re there. The next, they’re gone, and you’re left, trying to figure out how to keep living.”
Something in Holly’s voice draws my focus to her. She’s got her eyes on our hands, a frown shadowing her mouth. Her shoulders bow forward like there’s a heavy weight on them.
Sometimes, clarity comes without words.
“You lost someone, too. Didn’t you?”
Her head flies up, and her expression gets guarded. For a minute, I don’t think she’s going to answer, but slowly, her defensiveness cracks until I glimpse pain and vulnerability behind her mask. She dips her chin.
“My grandma. I always called her Grams.” Holly’s normally cheerful, joking voice sounds watery.
Suddenly, sitting at the kitchen table seems too formal for this kind of intimate talk. I stand up, using my grasp on her hand to tug Holly after me. She follows without protest, hesitating for only a moment when I settle on the couch. The cushions next to me sink down, and I relax as her warm body presses against mine. With one hand, I hold hers, and I move the other to rub soothing circles on her back.
“What happened with your grams?” I whisper the question, but she still hears me.
Before responding, Holly leans her head on my shoulder, making my chest swell.
There hasn’t been a time when I’ve felt more like a man than when Holly seeks me out for comfort and support. When she relies on me, when she trusts me, it’s the greatest feeling in the world.
“You’ve probably noticed my family isn’t exactly the normal setup.” She fiddles with my fingers.
I give a small confirming noise from the back of my throat.
“My mom was never very responsible. She had problems with addiction. Apparently, she broke a bone or something while playing softball in high school, and the doctors gave her painkillers. Things kinda spiraled after that.” Holly keeps her voice matter-of-fact.
I try not to react to the sad story, wanting to know everything about the girl at my side. Even the hard stuff.
“She met Pops, Marcus’s dad, at a party. They dated for a bit. Then, she got pregnant. Pops stopped messing around. She didn’t. When Marcus was born, he came out sick. Mom left him with her mother, Grams, to take care of. Pops helped, but he was barely older than a kid. Worked a bunch of jobs to cover the medical bills. Grams was a schoolteacher, so she didn’t make much money. They figured things out though, the two of them. Then, six years later, Mom showed up, pregnant again, no father to be seen.” Holly lets out a chuckle with no humor behind it.
I slide my arm around her shoulders, hugging her close.
She stares into the fire for a bit before continuing, “After what happened with Marcus, they did everything they could to get her clean, so I would be born a healthy baby. Mom even kept to the program after that, but we all still lived at Grams’s. Well, the four of us. Pops had his own place by then. Marcus would stay with him on the weekends and with us during the week.
“So, when I was growing up, life was pretty good actually. I basically had two moms, and Pops was around enough that I didn’t wonder too much about who my dad was.” She tries to smile up at me, but I notice a tremble in her lip.
Then, she looks away, her shoulders going stiff. “When I was ten, Grams died. It was sudden. Sent Mom off the wagon. I’d never seen her like that before. One minute, I had two moms; the next, I had none.” The deep breath she drags in stutters.
“I’m sorry, Holly.”
She nods. We sit still together under a blanket of silence.
Now, I know how Holly felt when I told her my story. Helpless. There’s a heaviness in the air, the weight from our pasts crowding the once-cozy cabin.
It seems wrong for us to stop here. The woman beside me deserves a happy ending.
“What happened next?”
Holly starts, as if she forgot where she was for a moment. After clearing her throat, she gives me the rest. “Marcus went to live with his dad full-time, but I stayed with my mom. The situation … wasn’t good. When he found out, Marcus convinced Pops to adopt me. So, the three of us made a new family.” When she smiles up at me, this time, there’s no quiver.
“Your pops sounds like a great guy.”
“He’s the best. You should meet him.”
Now, I’m the one smiling. Holly wants me to meet her dad. That’s the type of thing boyfriends do.
If I were her boyfriend, I’d also lean down to kiss her right now. With our faces only inches away, her big brown eyes locked on mine, it’s tempting.
The silence grows thick between us as our breaths mingle in the close space. Hints of her honeysuckle scent tease and entice me, the warmth of her body turning my muscles into liquid lava.
Her lips part, and she gasps in a small breath. “Ben, I …”
“Yeah?” My hand starts to rise to cup her face.
But then she turns her head and leans away from me. “I think our soup is cold.”
That’s not the only thing rapidly cooling down in this cabin. Still, I let her go.
“Don’t worry about it. That’s what we have a fire for.” I walk over to the table, grab our soup bowls, and then crouch in front of the fire to return the contents to the original pot. Repositioning the pot over the flames, I realize we’re low on fuel. “You give this a few stirs while I grab some more wood.”
Her smile is toothy and excited as she eagerly reaches for the spoon handle.
I pull my jacket off the coat rack and slip my feet into my boots, not bothering to tie the laces when I’m only going as far as the porch.
The cool air hits my chest and creeps into the exposed seams of my shirt. Quickly, I gather an armload of split wood, balancing it on one arm as I pull the cabin door back open and shut it behind me, doing my best to keep the heat from escaping.
Holly is still by the fire, standing now, with her hands held out for warmth. The sight of her there, in her bulky sweater that hangs low over her leggings, cheeks flushed from the heat, short chestnut hair tucked behind her ears, I can’t do anything but stare. This situation feels so right, like fitting that last little piece into the puzzle you’ve been working on for weeks. Spending time with her settles me but also sets my heart racing.
We’ve both cut ourselves open tonight. Been vulnerable with each other.
Greedy bastard that I am, I crave more.
I want to claim her as mine. I want to hold her at night when we fall asleep, kiss her in the morning, talk to her every day, worship her body, and have her explore mine.
Question is, does she trust me enough to give me a chance?
“You don’t have to do that. I can get this.” Ben comes up beside me at the sink, trying to take the sponge out of my hand.
I dodge him and flick some suds his way. “Nuh-uh. You cooked. I clean. Go pick out another movie.” Besides, I need something to keep my jittery hands busy.
We almost kissed. At least, that was what it felt like to me. I barely pulled myself away from him.
He was probably just being kind. A good friend. Comforting me as I told him about my grams. That’s all it was.
It would’ve been horrible if I’d leaned in for a kiss and he’d backed away, looking at me like I was a crazy person. Or even worse, what if he’d let me kiss him out of pity or because he’d felt obligated to keep me happy? Humiliating.
Good thing I have some self-restraint.
Instead of following my directions, Ben leans against the counter and grabs a towel. As he picks up dishes from the drying rack and starts wiping them down, he watches me.
I try not to fidget.
“What do you find attractive in a guy?”
The bowl I’m holding slips out of my hands, clanking around in the sink and splashing water onto my sweater.
Real smooth.
“What?” I try to recover my composure, concentrating on the dirty dishes.
“You know … what makes someone attractive? To you specifically,” Ben asks casually, like he’s inquiring about what movies I like or how I take my coffee.
“That’s a complicated question.” I scrub vigorously at a specific spot that doesn’t really need as much attention as I’m giving it.
“Really? I don’t think so. Here, I’ll go first.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see him scoop up some utensils to dry. “Obviously, there’s got to be something physical, but I like women in all different shapes and sizes.”
I snort and can hear the grin in his voice as he keeps talking, “Then, there’s the really important stuff. Like, do we laugh when we’re together? Can we talk for long stretches without running out of things to say? Does my family like her? Is she passionate about life? Does she have a kind heart? Do I smile every time I think about her?”
I’m hanging on every word, applying his questions to the two of us.
Is that what he wants me to do, or is Ben just making casual conversation?
“Here, I think that one’s clean.”
Gently, he pries the bowl I was repeatedly rinsing throughout his description out of my hand. His skin brushes against mine in the exchange, and I give an embarrassing jump. Ben chuckles and leans in until I’m forced to meet his eyes.
“Your turn.”
I can’t help biting my lip. It’s that or shout out, You! All I want is you!
Instead, I pick up the last plate, focusing on it while I work out an answer.
“You covered a lot of the bases. I guess I’d also want someone reliable. Honest. Someone I felt safe around. Like I could be me without being judged.” The air gets heavy again, so I fall back on a joke. “And, of course, a pretty face to round out the package.” When I grin over at Ben, I find him watching me. The eyes behind his glasses are emerald knives, cutting through my flimsy walls.
He steps in close, pressing me back against the sink but still leaving enough room for me to slip away if I want.
“Honesty. I can do that. Here’s honest: I think about you all the time, Holly. Like an unhealthy amount. But I don’t care if it’s unhealthy because everything about you makes me feel good. You’re my favorite person. Is that crazy?” His smile is sheepish but determined, and he shrugs. “Doesn’t matter ’cause it’s true. All I want is more of you.”
Every bit of me freezes. Face, hands, body are all locked in place. For a moment, even my lungs take a pause from their normal duties. My brain needs to hit the restart button. He’s scrutinizing me, probably looking for a reaction, but I’m sure my face is blank because I’m trying to figure out what to think.
“All I want is more of you.”
“Like sex?”
Oh sheesh. That’s the first thing out of my mouth?
Ben’s cheeks get a ruddy glow, and his eyes heat up, but he shakes his head. “No. Not sex. At least, not just sex.”
I’m usually great with thinking on my feet, but right now, my thoughts bounce around so much that I have trouble grasping them.
“More of me. What does that mean? What’s more?” I sound breathy, probably from the lack of breathing.
“More is spending time together outside of my treatments. Like going on dates. More means holding your hand.” He slips his fingers into mine and raises our joined hands. Then, keeping his stare locked on mine, he draws them to his mouth to brush a kiss over my knuckles. “More means more touching. I can hold you like I did last night all the time. That, once you give me the go-ahead, I can kiss you whenever I want. I feel like we’re on our way to more. Like we’ve brushed against it.” He rubs his thumb over the back of my hand, the rough pad of his finger sending tingles down my wrist. Then, with a sigh, he releases me and steps back. “If this is one-sided, tell me.”
“One-sided?” I’m still floundering in all this new information.
“Yeah. If you just want to be friends, nothing has to change.”
But that’s not true. Ben just told me that I’m his favorite person. Everything has changed.
And my stupid mouth can’t handle it.
“You’re throwing off my entire schedule!”