Chapter 13 #2
‘I don’t think you do – let it go. You just get better at living with it. And right After …’ Benji trailed off, cleared his throat of emotion. ‘I was too worried about you to really focus on the shock and the grief.’
Sierra could only nod. He had been so steadfast, so gentle and kind and supportive. And she’d pushed him away because every gentle, kind, supportive word had only reminded her of that looming grief and the need to give in to it, even though she wasn’t entirely sure she could survive it.
She didn’t address it now either. But she did ask, ‘What are we going to do with all this stuff?’
It was the first time she had included him in a decision since that day. She had painted over the nursery without asking him. She had boxed up all the baby things and sold the furniture without telling him. And that fact wasn’t lost on either of them.
‘Keep the family stuff, donate the rest?’ Benji suggested. Although he didn’t say it, he thought that when they had kids in the future, they should restart from scratch without any of those little reminders of how terribly wrong things could go.
He stretched his legs out in front of him and studied the little room through the closet door.
There had been a time when the walls were lovingly decorated with roses and the baby furniture had been filled with diapers, onesies, and the tiniest little socks in preparation for the day they brought Her home.
Thinking about it now reminded Benji of After too.
When Sierra had first come home from the hospital, she had been so quiet and calm, and even though the doctor had told her to take it easy and Mav had kicked her out of her office when she’d tried to go right back to work, she hadn’t rested.
She hadn’t stopped. She’d painted the walls of the nursery, covering all the reminders of Baby Girl with Eggshell White.
She’d sold their baby furniture and given away the boxes of diapers to a new mom she’d known.
And all he’d been able to do was watch helplessly, unsure of how to help, and too afraid that if he touched her or held her or tried to reach out, she would snap and push him away – which she had ended up doing anyway.
The only time he’d suggested she go in and see a therapist, Sierra had tipped her head and frowned in confusion. She’d asked, ‘Why?’ and it was that complete inability to acknowledge what had happened that had terrified him into silence.
Now, he wondered what he could have done differently, if anything. Nobody could prepare for that. Nobody thought that they would have to watch the person they loved most in the world suffer through the biggest trauma of their life, or that when it happened, they would have no power to help them.
‘Do you want to go through it with me now?’ she asked quietly. ‘I’m not sure I’ll ever do it by myself.’
‘Yeah.’ He barely managed the single word. It was everything to just sit there with Sierra without her pulling away or snapping at him, so the fact that she wanted his help was entirely overwhelming for Benji, who had been waiting over a year to be allowed close to her again.
In the confines of the closet, her perfume was potent, but it was nothing compared to the gentle give of her shoulder against his.
Only that small, insignificant contact was enough to have his body and soul yearning in equal parts.
But instead of acting on it, he pushed to his feet, adding distance between them so that he didn’t ruin the gossamer moment by pulling her onto his lap or stealing another kiss. ‘Let me top up the wine.’
Sierra hugged her glass possessively to her chest, protecting the last sip. ‘Just bring the bottle up,’ she directed. ‘Getting blind drunk is on the agenda.’
‘Okay.’ Benji nodded slowly. He knew he shouldn’t push the point, but being in the same room as her made him ache with need.
And it made her emotionally vulnerable, which was something he would never take advantage of even after a year of celibacy.
‘I’ll get the bottle. But you know my line, Si,’ he added quietly. Seriously.
She frowned, clearly confused. ‘Your line?’
‘If you get drunk, I won’t touch you,’ he clarified.
He reminded her for two reasons. One, drunk Sierra was hot blooded and feisty, and there’d been a time when they’d enjoyed a lot of hot, tipsy sex.
But also, ‘I won’t let you use it as an excuse if we ever end up there.
When you let me into your bed again, it’s going to be because you want me there,’ he reminded her.
Sierra’s eyes widened. For a long moment she just stared at him, but when he turned to go get the bottle of wine, she called, ‘Hey, Benji!’ He turned, and she asked, ‘And if I don’t – get drunk?’
His heart slammed into his ribs. ‘It’s up to you, Si. It always has been.’ But the possibility of touching her, of tasting her again, left him breathless.
She hugged herself while she thought it through, and all Benji could do was stand and take her in.
Even dishevelled, her skirt twisted off centre, her pretty white blouse untucked and rumpled, her hair messy from her hands, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, second only to their daughter.
‘I don’t know what the right thing to do is,’ she said eventually. ‘Benji, we can’t go back.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘You have to know that.’
‘No, we can’t,’ he agreed. He walked to the door, stopped, said, ‘But, Si?’
‘Yeah?’ she whispered, her big eyes so dark and afraid.
‘We could always move forward.’