Chapter 20-Benji
She feels right in my arms.
That’s the first thing that hits me.
Not the music. Not the crowd. Not the fact that we’re standing under a string of cheap twinkle lights in the middle of some cattle baron’s celebration.
It’s her.
Always her.
The way she fits against me like she was made for it. Like she remembers every step, every shift of my body, every damn thing we used to be.
I spin her slow, watching the way she moves.
She’s wearing this long brown skirt with tiny flowers on it and a pink tank top knotted at her waist. It leaves a thin strip of skin showing, making me ache every time I steal a glimpse.
God, I can’t stop staring at her.
The way her hair moves, the way her eyes find mine again like she never lost them.
And fuck me.
This right here? This is something I thought I’d lost. It’s something I’ve dreamed about.
Over and over again.
Three years of empty nights and long drives and too much whiskey and not enough sleep—and every time I let my mind wander, it came back to this.
To her in my arms.
Dancing.
Smiling at me like I’m still hers.
Only every time I woke up?
She wasn’t there.
That’s on me, though.
All of it.
I know that now.
I own it.
I’ve lived with it.
And now? Now, I’m gonna fix it.
My jaw tightens as I pull her a little closer, my hand firm at her waist.
I’ll tell her.
All of it.
Everything I know now.
Everything I got wrong.
But not tonight.
She’s not ready.
Hell, maybe I’m not either.
So I do what she asked.
I dance.
And my chest feels so goddamn tight I can barely breathe.
Like something’s building inside me—pressure, hope, fear—all twisted together into something I don’t know how to control.
“Benji.”
I barely register the voice at first.
Too focused on her.
On the way she looks at me.
But then a hand taps my shoulder.
I turn.
Chase.
“Mind if I cut in?” he asks, polite, easy, like he’s not stepping into something I don’t want to let go of.
My first instinct?
No.
Hell no.
Find your own partner.
But Esme beats me to it.
“Sure!” she says, smiling, that bright, open smile that still knocks me sideways. “You’ve been such a great host, of course.”
She pinches me lightly at the waist.
A silent behave.
I nod once, stepping back, handing her off.
But I don’t like it.
Don’t like the way his hand settles at her back.
Don’t like the way she laughs at something he says.
Don’t like the fact that I’m not the one holding her anymore.
I stand there for a second too long, arms crossed, jaw tight, watching them move across the floor.
Yeah.
I’m very aware that I’m making an ass of myself.
That this is not a good look.
Fuck it.
“Get a grip,” I mutter under my breath.
I step off the dance floor, moving to the edge, forcing myself to look away.
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
I pull it out, frowning.
Sawyer.
“What?” I answer, already on edge.
“Just checking in,” he says.
“Why?” I ask, genuinely thrown.
Sawyer doesn’t check in.
Not like that.
There’s a pause.
“Because your lawyer’s been trying to reach you,” he says. “You haven’t been answering.”
“Fuck,” I mutter, dragging a hand down my face. “Yeah. He called earlier. I was, uh, in the shower. Meant to call him back.”
“Yeah, well,” Sawyer says, voice shifting, “I got some news.”
Something in his tone makes my gut tighten.
“What kind of news?”
“Good and bad,” he says. “Depends how you look at it.”
I glance back toward the dance floor.
Esme’s laughing at something Chase said.
It hits me right in the chest.
“Just say it,” I snap.
“Alright,” Sawyer says. “First thing—divorce never went through.”
My heart slams hard against my ribs.
Like it’s trying to break free.
“What?” I breathe.
“You heard me,” he says. “Paperwork wasn’t finalized. Filed wrong or something. Legally? You’d still be married.”
For a second—I can’t even process it.
Still married.
My wife.
My fucking wife.
A grin starts to pull at my mouth before I can stop it.
Jesus.
But then—the second part of what he said hits.
“What do you mean you’d still be married?”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. There’s more,” Sawyer adds.
And just like that, the high crashes.
“What more?” I ask, already tense again.
“Hold on,” he says. “Where are you? I can’t hear a fucking thing but cowboys and music!”
He’s right. I grunt a curt, “Hang on a sec,” and I look for Alex.
We make eye contact, and I nod my head towards Esme. He dips his chin.
He gets it. Understands I want his eyes watching her. Protecting her.
“Okay, I’m outside now,” I mutter, already moving off the edge of the crowd. “it was too loud. Now, say it again.”
I step farther out into the dark, away from the noise, hitting speaker.
He gets cut off.
“Wait. What was that?”
Sawyer exhales.
“Your lawyer dug deeper,” he says. “Marriage license was never properly filed. Clerical screw-up. Means—technically—you’re not divorced…”
A beat.
“…but it also means you were never legally married in the first place.”
Everything stops.
Dead.
My brain short-circuits.
“What?” I say, the word flat, empty.
“Yeah,” Sawyer continues. “You had the ceremony, sure. But legally? It never registered. So on paper? You’re not husband and wife. You never were.”
My grip tightens on the phone.
“That doesn’t make any fucking sense,” I snap.
“It does,” he says. “It’s just messy. You guys thought you were married. Lived like it. But legally? It never happened.”
My chest feels like it’s caving in.
Like something just got ripped out.
Behind me—a sound.
Sharp.
Broken.
“Oh my God!”
I spin.
It’s Esme.
She’s standing there, eyes wide, tears already spilling over, her face crumpling like I just hit her.
Shit.
She heard. Every fucking word.
“Esme—”
“Oh my God,” she gasps again, shaking her head like she can’t process it. “No—no, that’s not—”
She backs up a step.
Then turns.
And runs.
“Fuck!” I shout, the phone slipping from my hand and hitting the ground as I take off after her.
“Benji?” I hear Sawyer’s voice faintly behind me, but I don’t stop.
Don’t answer.
Nothing matters except her.
“Stop!” I yell, sprinting across the yard. “Esme, stop!”
She doesn’t.
She just keeps going, fast, like she’s trying to outrun something that’s been chasing her for years.
And maybe she is.
My boots pound the dirt, closing the distance.
“Esme!” I shout again. “Goddamn it, stop running from me!”
She stumbles slightly, then keeps going.
And something in me snaps.
I push harder.
Faster.
Because I’ve already lost her once.
I’m not doing it again.
Not like this.
Not over another fucking misunderstanding.
Not when I finally know the truth.
I catch her just before she reaches the edge of the property, grabbing her arm and spinning her toward me.
“Let go!” she cries, struggling, tears streaking her face. “Let me go, Benji!”
“No,” I growl, holding on. “Not this time. Never again!”
Her chest heaves, eyes wild, hurt bleeding out of her in waves.
“We weren’t even real,” she chokes out. “Do you get that? None of it was real!”
“How can you say that? I was there! So were you! And it was real,” I fire back immediately. “Every second of it was real.”
“No! Not legally!” she snaps.
“I don’t give a fuck about legal!” I shout. “You think that changes what we had?”
She freezes.
Just for a second.
And I see it.
That crack.
That doubt.
That hope she’s trying to kill before it can hurt her again.
“We thought we were married,” I say, voice lower now, rougher. “We lived like it. Loved like it. That doesn’t just disappear because some paperwork got screwed up.”
Her lips tremble.
“Benji, don’t you see? We were doomed from the start,” she whimpers, tears spilling now.
“No. You don’t really believe that. And I’m not letting you walk away again,” I tell her, stepping closer. “Not over this. Not when I finally know the truth.”
She shakes her head, tears falling faster now.
“You didn’t believe me then,” she whispers.
And that?
Shit.
That hits me right in the stomach and just rips my guts right out.
I swallow hard, fighting the urge to fucking puke because of how badly I fucked up.
“I know,” I say, my voice hoarse. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life making that right if I have to.”
Silence stretches between us.
Heavy.
Fragile.
Everything is just hanging by a fucking thread.
Her eyes search mine.
Like she’s trying to figure out if I mean it.
If I’m real.
If this is.
“You shouldn’t have to work so hard to do that, Benji. None of this should be so hard,” she says and walks away.
And I know—I fucking know—I’m going to prove myself to her.
If it takes all I’ve got—I’ll give it.
Because she deserves that.
She deserves everything.