Chapter 22-Benji
Vegas is loud.
Not just the noise—the engines, the music, the shouting—but the everything of it.
The way the lights scream at you from every direction like they’ve got something to prove.
Neon bleeding into neon, flashing reds and electric blues, gold chasing white in patterns that don’t make a damn bit of sense.
It’s flashy.
Vulgar.
Over the top in a way that feels almost aggressive.
Like the whole damn city is trying to seduce you.
Or swallow you whole.
Crowds move in waves along the sidewalks—tourists in cheap glitter dresses and wrinkled button-downs, drunk men laughing too loud, women in heels that look like they’re about to break an ankle, performers in costumes that don’t leave much to the imagination.
Everything is too bright.
Too fast.
Too noisy.
And I don’t give a single fuck about any of it.
Because all I see—all I feel—is her.
My hand tightens around Esme’s as we move through the crowd, my body angling just enough to shield her from the worst of it without making a show of it.
Old habits.
Protective instincts.
They don’t switch off.
Not ever.
Not when it comes to her.
Outside?
I’m calm.
Cool.
Collected.
The same mask I wore in the field. The one that kept me alive when everything around me went to hell.
Don’t react.
Don’t show it.
Don’t let them see what’s under the surface.
And right now?
I need that.
Because inside?
Inside, I’m not calm.
Not even close.
My heart is pounding like a goddamn stampede—wild, relentless, crashing through everything in its path.
Like a herd breaking through a fence, running for open ground.
Freedom.
Or destruction.
Same difference.
She thought this was it.
And that thought burns.
She thought that this—us—was just some kind of temporary thing.
A road trip.
A fling.
A way to close the chapter clean and walk away.
Like what we had didn’t matter.
Like those months of marriage—all those nights together?
Like that life didn’t count for shit.
My jaw tightens as I guide her across the street, the light changing just as we hit the curb.
Truth is, I’m kinda pissed at her.
She thought we were already over.
That there was nothing left to fight for.
That there was nothing left to hold on to.
But I let out a long breath, and with it—my anger dissipates.
Because whatever Esme thought, she thought wrong.
So fucking wrong.
Because whether or not it was legal?
She was mine.
She’s still mine.
Always has been.
And I’m done pretending otherwise.
Done letting paperwork—or lack of it—decide something that was written into my bones the second I laid eyes on her.
This? This was always how it was going to end.
With my ring on her finger.
My name tied to hers.
Our hearts bound together.
Mine.
In every way that matters.
We stop in front of it—the chapel.
And I watch the moment she takes it in.
It’s small.
Almost laughable compared to the chaos surrounding it.
A little slice of quiet tucked between neon monstrosities and flashing signs advertising things I don’t even bother reading.
“Benji,” Esme breathes beside me.
I don’t look at her.
If I do?
I might see doubt.
Fear.
And I can’t afford that right now.
Because if she hesitates—if she pulls away—fuck.
I don’t know if I’ll be able to let her go again.
Scratch that. I definitely won’t let her go.
So, I can’t give her the option.
Not this time.
Not ever again.
I open the door.
And I lead her inside.
“Welcome to the Little Rock Chapel!”
The woman behind the counter is impossible to miss—bright orange hair piled high, lipstick to match, eyes sharp and knowing like she’s seen every version of love walk through these doors.
“Benji,” Esme hisses softly, her fingers tightening in mine.
I ignore her.
Because if I stop now—if I think—I might second-guess.
And I don’t want to think.
I want to do.
“We’ll take the Get Wed Quick package,” I tell the woman.
Her grin widens.
“Oh, honey,” she says, clapping her hands once, “you are in for a treat! Come on then, let’s see those IDs and sign some papers—as long as you’re quick with the words and longer in the sheets, am I right, honey?”
Esme lets out a weak laugh beside me.
I don’t.
I reach into my pocket, pulling out my ID without hesitation.
My other hand moves automatically—finding her purse, opening it, retrieving hers like I’ve done it a hundred times before.
Because I have.
Because that’s what we were.
A unit.
A team.
A married couple.
Whether the law recognized it or not.
Am I being bullheaded?
Yeah.
Probably.
But I’m done with not being married to this woman.
Done letting technicalities and past mistakes keep us in limbo.
Done giving her any space to slip away again.
“Are you sure?” she asks quietly, her voice shaking just enough to cut through everything.
I finally look at her.
Really look.
Her eyes are wide.
Bright.
Vulnerable.
And something in my chest twists hard.
Because I know what she’s asking.
Not just about this.
About us.
About whether I’m going to hurt her again.
Whether this is real.
Whether I mean it.
I step closer.
Close enough that the rest of the world falls away.
“I’ve never been surer of anything in my whole fucking life,” I tell her, my voice low, rough, unfiltered. “I’m yours. And you’re mine, Esme. You are so mine.”
My thumb brushes over her knuckles.
“I want you every fucking way I can get you.”
Her breath catches.
“Yeah?” she whispers.
I don’t hesitate.
“Yeah. Yes. I love you,” I say.
The words hit harder than anything else we’ve done.
More dangerous.
More binding.
“Don’t you know that?”
Her face crumples just a little.
Tears spill over before she can stop them. She sniffs.
And then—holy fuck—she smiles.
“I love you, too,” she says.
Soft.
Honest.
Breaking me open right down the middle.
“Yeah?” I ask, needing to hear it again.
“Yeah.”
That’s it.
That’s all I need.
“Good,” I murmur.
I take her hand.
Tight.
Possessive.
Certain.
“Now let’s get married.”
The music starts—tinny, overplayed, completely ridiculous—and I don’t care.
Not about the chapel.
Not about the city.
Not about anything except the woman standing in front of me.
Because Vegas can keep its lights.
Its noise. It can keep its glitter-covered chaos.
All I want—all I’ve ever wanted—is her.
And this time?
I’m not letting anything come between us.
Not ever again.