Chapter 9 #2
She should have been angry with Benji for getting in the way. So, only God knew why she wasn’t. And why, as he opened her door, her old Ugg boots and a pair of thick socks in his hand, she smiled tiredly. ‘Did you check those for tarantulas?’ she asked as she bent down to unstrap her heels.
Benji slipped one hand into her Ugg boot. He felt around for a few seconds before yelping loudly as if he’d been bitten.
Sierra rolled her eyes. ‘Very funny.’
He grinned, but he still checked the other one before handing them both to her. ‘All clear.’
Sierra slipped them on with a sigh of relief, grateful to be out of her heels for the day. She took Benji’s hand when he offered it, let him lead her to the back of the truck before letting him go.
Restricted by her skirt, she shimmied her butt up and onto the tailgate, scooted inelegantly back onto the pile of spread blankets.
She lay down, and even though she tried not to think about their kiss earlier, or how perfectly safe she’d felt in his arms, it was harder to ignore him when he spread out next to her and threw the last blanket over both of them.
She nestled under the thick blanket and stared up at the star-studded sky. The cold winter air provided cool relief to her hot, tear-stained face.
Benji didn’t say anything. He just lay next to her, not touching her, but close enough to have her wishing that he would. Because as much as she had been driven by the need to make everything else go away, even momentarily, she still wanted him too. She always had. She probably always would.
But that was her cross to bear.
Still, she had forgotten how comforting silence in the company of the right person could be.
It wasn’t like being alone, trapped with your own thoughts.
It was being so close to someone that just their proximity to you made you feel not alone.
It was being so close to someone that you knew what you’d say to each other if you were talking, making words unnecessary.
It had always been like that with Benji.
And because that terrified her, she spoke. ‘When I was in New York for school and then LA for work, I’d forget how bright the stars were here. And then every time I’d come home, I’d spend the first night just …’ she shook her head, ‘in awe.’
‘There’s nowhere as beautiful as Hunt Ranch,’ he said simply.
Sierra rolled onto her side so that she could look at him.
His blond hair, with only the faintest grey at his temples, was in dire need of a trim.
His face, which he shaved religiously every morning, was lightly shadowed with scruff.
He rested his head on one arm, his elbow poking out, biceps flexing.
It hurt to look at him – always. It made her wonder what their life would be like had things worked out differently.
It made her imagine an alternate reality, a reality that wasn’t hers, a reality where they had a one-year-old and were looking forward to Christmas with none of that grief between them, a reality where the worst thing that happened to them was that they’d stayed up all night with a fussy child.
‘What did she look like?’ Her voice was quiet, barely a whisper, but the question fell into the night like a shot from a Winchester.
She heard his breath catch. For a long moment he didn’t say anything. The cold night stretched over their cocoon of warmth as he sorted through his thoughts, always so careful. But when he turned to her, his eyes glistening with tears, he said, ‘She looked like you. Like a Hunt.’
Sierra didn’t cry. She had no more tears to shed just then. But that emptiness inside her yawned wide. ‘Strange. I always imagine her like you. Blonde curls. Green eyes. Cheeky grin.’
‘Nope, she was all Hunt.’ He shifted so that he was on his side, facing her fully. ‘Do you remember when Poppy was born?’
‘Of course.’
‘She had all that thick, brown hair?’
‘Yeah. And it stuck up like she had been electrocuted.’
‘Yeah … Hers was as thick. But it wasn’t straight. It was curly.’
She nodded, but when she went to turn over again, Benji caught her hand in his.
He linked their fingers beneath the blankets, and Sierra couldn’t pull away.
She knew that she should, that it was irresponsible to let him think they could ever go back, but she needed him too much at that moment to turn away. So, she didn’t.
‘I have a picture if you ever want to see it.’
‘No.’ The denial was instant. Her heart slammed into her throat. Her hand jerked in Benji’s, but he only held her tighter.
‘Okay …’
‘I can’t. I—’
‘You don’t have to explain to me, Si. I know.’ He squeezed her hand once. ‘I know.’
And because he was the only person in her life who did, she said, ‘It hurts too much. If I don’t know all those little details, it’s something that happened to me. To us. If I look at her face and her hands and her tiny feet, it’s something that happened to her, and I can’t …’
‘Okay.’ He didn’t fight her. Only gave her hand one last squeeze before he settled again.
But his acquiescence didn’t change the fact that now she knew that there was a picture of her daughter in the world. Even though she would probably never look at it, it was a strange type of relief to know that it existed, that there was something left to commemorate Baby Girl’s existence.
‘Do you remember the last time we came here? Before?’
Sierra smiled. ‘Of course.’ It had been the end of August, a few months before winter kicked in and the temperatures dropped too low to enjoy going for a dip in the lake. ‘I was so restless. And uncomfortable.’
Benji laughed low at that. ‘You were a yo-yo. One minute, so happy and excited. The next, crying because your feet were swollen, or you couldn’t tie your shoelaces.’
‘I don’t like depending on people!’ she said. ‘It’s hard, to go from stubbornly independent to having to call your man in from work because you can’t put your sneakers on …’ She trailed off as those words – ‘your man’ – settled between them.
Benji didn’t address her slip. He didn’t put her on the spot or push her. He just said, ‘That was a really good day.’
Sierra sighed. ‘The best.’
If she closed her eyes, she could take herself back there.
She could feel the cool water lapping at her skin and the night settling around them.
She remembered that little jump in her stomach when he’d wrapped her legs around his waist, her pregnant belly between them, and the memory was so strong that she felt the remnants of that need still.
And it hurt, to remember all those good days together.
It tore her apart to know that she was the reason that everything had soured.
Because Benji had done everything right.
Everything. It was her who hadn’t been able to reciprocate his strength and kindness through the grief.
Instead, she’d chosen bitterness and anger.
For a long time, as they lay side by side in the quiet night, Sierra struggled to let the words come. But knowing that they were necessary, Sierra, for the first time, said, ‘I’m sorry.’
He didn’t ask what she was sorry for, or say it was all right. He just said, ‘I know.’
They lay there for hours, not talking, just being alone together. And when Sierra’s body finally gave in to the exhausting day, and her eyes closed, Benji gently repositioned her and tucked her against him.
His big body curled around hers, keeping her warm and sheltering her dreams. And she didn’t fight him. She allowed herself to take the comfort he offered, a murmured, ‘Just for tonight,’ her only warning.
She slipped off into sleep with the speed of someone who’d survived a difficult day, but if she’d stayed awake just a few seconds longer, she would have heard Benji’s whispered reply: ‘Just for tonight – forever.’