Chapter 7 #2
He didn’t talk as he started the truck and pulled out of the parking lot.
He didn’t say anything as he headed home to Hunt Ranch.
Sierra didn’t need empty words and hollow comfort.
She needed to grieve. She needed to break and let all that ugly, black sorrow out.
And Benji had no idea how to tell her that without her shutting down again – so he didn’t say anything.
Next to him, Sierra burrowed into his jacket and rested her head against the cold passenger window. She was so quiet, so still, for so long. The only sign that she was alive at all were the little bursts of fog her breaths left on the window.
The drive took them over thirty minutes, but it was only when he entered through Hunt Ranch’s arched gates that Sierra spoke. ‘Not the ranch house,’ she said quietly. ‘I don’t want to put a dampener on Nina and Mav’s news.’
So, Benji kept driving. He didn’t stop at the resort either, knowing that he wouldn’t get her through to her office without running into guests and staff.
He drove her to the barn – quiet in the night – parked outside, and turned off the engine.
But he didn’t push her to get out, didn’t ask her if seeing Ty would help. He just sat next to her in the quiet, waiting. Always waiting.
He was so quiet, so calm. Being in the truck with Benji was like climbing in a hot bath after stripping your clothes in the winter.
The warmth seeped into Sierra’s very bones.
She burrowed deeper into his jacket, letting his familiar scent wrap around her like an embrace, and even though she knew it wasn’t fair to lean on him when she’d so routinely pushed him away, she couldn’t bring herself to walk away.
She needed him. She needed his calmness, his kindness.
She needed to feel his love just then, if only for a few hours, because it had always steadied her and made her feel safe.
She would have been embarrassed by her outburst had it been anyone else.
But Benji had been there through far worse: When she’d thrown up at Mav’s thirtieth birthday party, when she’d been so sick with morning sickness that she hadn’t left the toilet for hours, and when she’d given birth …
So, a drunk meltdown hardly embarrassed her. What it did do, was shame her.
‘I’m a terrible person,’ she said eventually, biting back the self-pitying sob that clawed up her throat with merciless intent.
‘No.’
‘I am,’ she argued. ‘What type of person is devastated by such happy news? What type of person feels angry when the people she loves most in the world are so happy?’ She swiped at her nose, furious with herself for falling apart.
‘You can be sad for yourself and still be happy for Mav and Nina,’ he said gently. ‘Jesus, Sierra, they understand that.’
The rational part of her knew that there was truth in what he was saying. But knowing it didn’t help. She had tried so hard to outrun her despair, but now she was simply too tired to keep moving forward. ‘I just don’t know when I became this person,’ she whispered. ‘This angry, empty person.’
‘October twenty-second, 2024,’ he said even as she shook her head, begging him not to go there. ‘And you’re not empty. You’re too full – of anger and grief. And loneliness. Christ, Si, anyone can see that you’ve pushed everyone away.’
‘Benji—’
‘No.’ When his voice came out harsh, he cursed.
Sierra glanced sideways and watched as he took a deep breath.
He leaned forward, rested both arms on the steering wheel, and said, gently now, ‘You’ve been so strong for so long, Si. But you haven’t let yourself process what happened. Sometimes I look at you, and I …’
‘You what?’
‘I wonder how you survive it.’ His eyes, burning with grief, met hers. ‘I wonder how much longer you can hold on before breaking.’
‘You’re one to talk.’ She bit back her anger, shifted to glare out of the windshield.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ When she only rolled her eyes, he pushed. ‘No, tell me.’
‘You bounced back just fine,’ she accused. And she hated herself for it, for taking it out on him.
He paled. Even with nothing but moonlight, she saw the way his skin went ashen. ‘Is that really what you think?’ he asked, his voice hoarse.
‘You didn’t even wait twenty-four hours before …’ She couldn’t even say it. Couldn’t bring herself to acknowledge that the life she had carried for all those long months had been reduced to ashes alongside her dreams. In twenty-four hours. One day.
‘I thought it would help,’ he rasped. ‘You wouldn’t hold Her or look at Her and I couldn’t stand the thought of Her lying alone and cold in the hospital morgue. I—’
‘Stop,’ Sierra rasped.
He bit off his words with a sharp twist of his head.
‘If I didn’t show you how broken I was it was only because I was trying to be strong – for you, Sierra.
I thought if I could just keep it together for a little while, I could hold you while you broke.
’ He laughed bitterly. ‘Joke’s on me.’ He let his head fall back against the headrest. ‘Jesus, it always is when it comes to you.’
‘I’ve given you every opportunity to leave, Benji.’ Sierra clenched both hands into tight fists. ‘God, I’ve pushed and pushed and pushed.’ Exhausted from the events of the day – the year – she laughed loudly, wildly. ‘Why do you stay? Why are you here?’
She had forgotten how quickly he could move, how quickly that cool, calm demeanour could turn to whiplash temper when provoked.
Before she could register what was happening, he had leaned across the centre console separating them. Before she could raise her hands to push him off, he had ripped his jacket off her and gripped the lapels of her blazer with both hands. Before she could curse him, he crushed his mouth to hers.
The kiss was bruising. Consuming.
He’d done it to answer her question, to remind her why he stayed, but the moment he touched her, Sierra exploded.
All those volatile, suppressed emotions that simmered perpetually beneath the surface, making her skin crawl, were smothered by the intensity of her need.
It was so good, so peaceful. The kiss eclipsed everything, giving her rest from her constant vigilance.
So, instead of pulling back or slapping him as she knew he’d expected, she grabbed a fistful of his hair and when he would have pulled back, she took them deeper.
Her body was alive. Her heart, always so quietly empty, thrashed with excitement. Her core was already slick – because she knew what he could do to her. She knew that he could make it go away, even for a little while.
Breath heaving, hands fumbling for purchase, she began to climb across the centre console – only to be rudely yanked back. It took her a full three seconds to realize that she was still wearing her seatbelt, and that in her frenzy to get to him, it had locked in place, stopping her.
Sierra nearly took it as a sign. She hesitated.
But Benji just said, ‘Nope,’ and leaning across the seat, unbuckled her seatbelt, freeing her again. He gripped her arm, and although he didn’t yank her over the centre console, the way he guided her, his grip unrelenting, left no doubt in her mind that she was being handled.
When her long, tight skirt got in the way, she yanked it up her thighs so that she could swing one leg inelegantly over. She was tall, and it was no easy feat to navigate the confined space, but Sierra had done this particular manoeuvre many times. Before.
Still, her knee hit his seatbelt buckle as she straddled him. Sierra cursed.
Benji chuckled – and then abruptly fell silent as she lowered her weight down onto his lap.
His big hands came to her hips, holding her gently as his thumbs stroked. His lips whispered over her neck, leaving little sparks in their wake. ‘How drunk are you?’
‘A seven,’ she said honestly. There was no point in lying. He knew her too well.
Benji pulled back immediately.
‘Please, Benji. I’m here.’ She ground over him, forcing her skirt up higher to reveal a flash of her plain white thong, the front of which was visibly wet.
Benji groaned.
‘I know what I’m doing. I want you to make it go away.’
‘Sierra—’
She heard the refusal in his tone and sighed. She started to push him away as her lust drained, making way for her anger.
‘No.’ He wrapped his arms around her, restraining her easily. And when she began to struggle, he gripped one hand in her hair and slowly forced her eyes back to his. ‘You know, Sierra,’ he said, his tone pain-filled. ‘You know what I would do, what I would sacrifice for one night with you …’
‘So, fuck me,’ she demanded, and pressed her weight down over the thick ridge beneath his jeans.
He closed his eyes and exhaled as if fighting his urge to do just that. ‘When I fuck you, Sierra,’ he said, making her ugly words sound so erotic, ‘it’s going to be when you’re sober. And because you want me as much as I want you.’
Desperate for relief, she demanded, ‘And if that never happens?’ Leaning close, she nipped his ear, whispered, ‘What if this was your last chance, Benji?’
‘Even if it was, I would regret it,’ he replied without hesitation. ‘Saying no is better than tainting every perfect memory I have of you – of us – with one cheap encounter.’
Sierra’s heart broke. Because he was right, and once again, she was the problem. But when she would have pushed off him and climbed out of the truck, her temper ripe, Benji only pulled her closer, held her tighter.
Sierra’s panic rose. With no lust to distract her, that despair came for her. A violent tremor passed through her body. Very quietly, very calmly, she asked, ‘Please let me go.’
‘No.’ If anything, he held her tighter.
Her tears started again, hot and heavy on her cheeks. The grief rose and, with it, panic. ‘Benji. I can’t.’ She used both hands to push violently at his chest, but he didn’t even budge a little. ‘I have to go. I—’
‘Just let it come, Si.’ He kissed the side of her head. ‘Just let it come. I’ll be right here.’
She tried to fight it, tried to face it. But it was futile. She had been running too long and too far. She was so tired that resisting the grief had her shaking.
Unable to hold it back any longer, Sierra let it take her under.
Finally.