Chapter 16
16
BEN
The rhythm of my heart skips, and my brows rise at the privilege he’s bestowing on me. My chest fills with warmth at his willingness to share his stories with me—stories only his mom knows about.
“Evan, I’m sure Ben has things he needs to do at home,” Hope says softly, running her hand over the top of his fresh cut. The heartbreak of cutting his hair was plain to see on her face, but she fulfilled her son’s wishes over her own because she’s a fantastic mom.
There’s no way I’d turn Evan down when he’s sharing a part of himself he doesn’t share with anyone else. “I’d love to.”
“Thanks, Ben. You wanna come up to my room?”
“How about you bring your books down here?” Hope suggests.
“Okay.” He rushes inside, and Hope brings a broom and another chair outside. I take the broom from her and help sweep up the hair while she cleans and puts away her equipment. By the time we’re finished, Evan returns with several notebooks. “Which one do you want to start with?”
“How about you select one or two for Ben to read for now?” Hope tells him. What she doesn’t realize is that I’ll read every single story if it means I can stay longer.
When she was standing between my legs—so close that I could see the blue-green striations of her irises and watch her pulse flutter rapidly at the base of her sexy throat—it made me never want to leave.
As much as I think it pains her, I sense she’s equally attracted to me. The way she flushed pink and the breathiness of her voice were a dead giveaway. It’s been six years for her, and I wonder if she’s ever considered dating. Our conversation from a couple of weeks ago suggests she probably hasn’t, which means I need to take things slow.
He shuffles through the books and sets one aside, then shuffles through them some more, pulling out a second one. He picks them up and hands them to me. “I think these two are my best.”
Hope smiles, then heads toward the back door. “I’ll leave you two to it.” She disappears inside, and I miss her instantly, but return my attention to Evan and the gift he’s offering me.
“All right, give me a quick overview of each story, and I’ll choose which one to read first.” His eyes brighten as he explains each story to me. I hold up the blue notebook. “Okay, I’ll start with this one.”
Evan can’t contain his excitement as I flip the cover open, get comfortable, and start to read. Rex rests obediently at our feet, and Evan leans his chin on his fist, watching me. His brown eyes bore into the side of my head, and self-consciousness makes my neck itch, but I push through the discomfort and continue to read.
It’s a terrific story. I can tell it’s written by a kid, but it’s fantastic—better than I expected. I lift my eyes to Evan and smile at him.
“What did you think?”
I raise my eyebrows. “I have to be completely honest. I wasn’t expecting much, but I really enjoyed it. You have great characters, and the tension kept me turning the pages. I wanted to find out if the killer was who I thought—and if they’d catch her. It was the perfect length to keep my attention.”
His eyes widen. “Really?” He can’t hide his surprise.
I nod. “Yeah, really.” I place it on the table and grab the second book. “Is it okay if I read this one too?”
“Yeah.”
As the sun sinks closer to the horizon, I open Evan’s second story and lose myself in the world he’s created. The lead detective is the same; he’s just solving a different murder this time. The story is equally engrossing as the last one, and I’m eager to see how it ends.
Delicious smells waft from inside, and my stomach rumbles in response. Rex raises his head and sniffs the air where he rests between me and Evan. Tangerine and rose colors paint the sky, and the air is considerably cooler when I finally close the second story.
“Evan, I dunno what to say, man. You write fantastic stories. Do you think you’ll write for a living?”
He scoots closer to me. “Do you think my stories are good enough? I mean, Mom says they are, but she’s my mom; she has to say they’re good.”
I shrug. “As I said before, I’m not much of a reader, so I’m not really an expert. But I didn’t want to stop reading and if they can make me”—I jab my chest with my thumb—“keep reading, they must be pretty great. Don’t you think? And I don’t think your mom says stuff she doesn’t mean.”
“Well, yeah, I guess so.” He grins at me. “Thanks for reading my stories and liking them, Ben.” He collects his books and heads inside to put them away.
I guess that means my time is up. My chest pinches at the idea.
Reluctantly, I stand and tap the side of my leg. “C’mon, Rex. Time to go.”
He looks up at me, tilting his head to the side as his ears twitch. Even he can tell I don’t want to leave. I carry the dining chair inside and place it at the table.
Hope’s cutting cabbage at the counter, and whatever she has cooking smells incredible. I watch her slender fingers wrapped around the knife as she slices into the vegetable, noting her wedding rings on her left hand as she listens intently to Evan. “Ben thought my stories were good. He thinks I’m good enough to be a writer!”
She gives him a proud, genuine smile. “I’ve told you that, but you never believed me.”
He shrugs. “Well, yeah. You have to say my stuff is good … you’re my mom.”
Hope drops the knife and jabs her hands into her hips. “Are you calling me a liar?”
It takes a second for Evan to realize what she said. I can tell the moment her words sink in, when his eyebrows shoot high above his wide eyes. “What? No! I never said that.”
Hope giggles. It’s such a beautiful sound. “I was kidding, Ev.”
The relief on his face is instant as his shoulders drop from around his ears. He runs his hand over the top of his head, then pulls it away. “My hair’s super short now.”
Hope bites her bottom lip, and I can tell she’s trying to hold back a laugh. Her eyes sparkle like the sun glinting off the ocean, and in this moment, she looks so damn beautiful my chest aches.
The last thing I want to do is leave, but Hope’s preparing dinner, so I should get out of their hair. Knowing I’m going home to an empty house fills me with a sense of loneliness I’ve pushed aside for too long.
“Uh, thanks for the haircut and for sharing your afternoon with me and Rex. We should get going so you can get on with your evening.”
“No! Stay for dinner,” Evan almost shouts, then looks at his mom. “They can stay for dinner, right, Mom?”
Hope’s eyes snap up to me, and a blush spreads up her neck. “Uh, sure. If he’d like to, but he might have things to do or a date or something, Ev.”
My eyebrows rise and my neck heats. Was she fishing for information?
My chest expands with a relieved breath that I don’t have to leave just yet. “No date tonight or any other night.” Hope’s mouth drops open a little and she lowers her eyes back to the chopping board. “I’d love to stay for dinner.”
Without looking at me, she says, “Great. Evan, can you please set the table on the back porch for three?”
He does as asked and sets the table for dinner without an argument.
“Can I help?” I move around the counter until I’m standing beside Hope. I can’t stay away from her. It’s as if I’m the ocean and she’s the shore.
She lifts her gaze to me, uncertainty written across her face, so I step back a little to give her some space. I watch her swallow, then lift my eyes to study her. Her features are so fine, like a ballerina’s, with pale skin, a sprinkling of freckles across her nose and cheeks that remind me of cookie crumbs, and a sun-kissed pink tinge from this afternoon’s walk along the beach across the same area. I pause on her pale pink lips with the perfect bow, wishing I could lean forward and press a kiss to them. I bet they’re softer than silk. They look even more perfect when she smiles.
She tears her gaze from mine and points toward the sweet potatoes on the counter. “Would you mind peeling those and cutting them into wedges?”
“Sure.” I wash my hands at the sink, noticing the rubber gloves she must use when she washes the dishes. She digs into a drawer, grabbing a peeler, and I get to work. “What smells so good?”
Using her elbow to point to the pressure cooker on the other counter, she says, “I’m cooking pork in barbecue sauce, so we can have pulled pork sliders, coleslaw, and a side of sweet potato wedges.”
My stomach grumbles. “Oh, man. That sounds so good!” I widen my eyes in delight.
“It’s one of my favorite dinners,” Evan adds.
Rex raises his head, tilting it to the side. “Yeah, buddy. You’re gonna miss out, but I’ll give you a treat later.”
Hope bites her plump lower lip and looks down at Rex. “I have some leftover roast chicken and potatoes in the fridge. Will he eat that? I don’t want him to go without.”
Her concern for Rex warms my heart. “That would be appreciated. I can always replace it tomorrow.”
She waves off my offer. “Don’t worry about it. He deserves it for his bravery today.”
I was worried after she expressed her concern about Rex this afternoon. It would’ve been terrible if she couldn’t move past it and feel safe with him, but it seems she’s okay with him. Her acceptance feels as though she trusts me—at least a little—and that’s all I need for now. A woman like Hope, who’s been hurt so deeply, won’t trust easily, so each time I earn a little of it, I’ll celebrate the win.
“Evan, can you please take a shower, wash your hair, and get changed so we don’t have that wet dog smell at the dinner table.”
He leaves the room without an argument—something I would have done when I was his age—leaving Hope and me alone in the kitchen. “He’s a really great kid.”
“Thanks. We had a rough patch there for a little while. His attitude stunk, and he didn’t seem to care about anything. I think it was a turning point for both of us when you brought him home from the gas station. I hate to say it, because I can’t believe he did what he did, but it’s like I have my son back.” She opens the fridge and brings out a bottle of wine, holding it up to me. “Would you like a drink?”
“Sure.”
She pours two glasses and slides one across the counter. “He was only five when we lost Wyatt, and I recently discovered he’s been worried that he’s going to forget his dad.” Hope takes a delicate sip of her wine, and I mirror her, tasting the crisp sweetness. I’m not much of a wine drinker, but I’ll never say no to sharing anything with her.
“Do you talk about Wyatt with him very often?”
Her eyes slide away as she swallows another mouthful of wine. “I haven’t been the best parent. I’ve been too overwhelmed by my grief over what we’ve lost. He didn’t feel he could talk to me about his dad for fear of upsetting me. But I made a promise to him that things would change, and we’ve both been doing better. I’ve made a concerted effort to talk about Wyatt, and I think it’s helped … both of us.” She twists the stem of her glass between her slender fingers. “It hasn’t been as hard to talk about him as I thought it would be.” She raises and drops a smooth shoulder. “It’s been kinda nice.”
“I bet. I know this is nowhere the same as your loss, but I lost one of my best friends nine years ago, and it really helped to have Sebastian, my other best friend, to talk with about her. It helped keep our memories of her alive.”
Hope’s gaze fills with compassion as she moves closer and reaches across the counter to rest her hand on mine. I flip my hand over and link our fingers together, dropping my eyes to where we’re connected as my blood fizzles beneath her touch. The connection between us is so strong that I lose my breath for a moment. When I glance back at her face, she has creases between her brows, and her eyes are fixated on our joined hands, like she can feel the same connection I do.
Slowly, her gaze rises to mine, and I watch her throat move as she swallows. I expect her to pull her hand away, but she doesn’t. She says nothing, but she doesn’t need to. I can feel her compassion and empathy filling the space between us. It’s like she’s absorbing my pain and giving me back a warm hug without wrapping her arms around me. She understands. Just as I understand her pain, even though they’re not on the same level. I’m not sure how long we stay like that, but I don’t feel the need to add to our conversation right now.
“What was her name?” Hope murmurs as she squeezes my hand, and I pray she doesn’t let go because I’m not ready to give this moment up.
My lips tip up a little. “Tahlia.” My smile falls away. “We were eighteen and had just finished our senior year when everything went to shit. We’d been best friends since elementary school. Everyone called us The Three Musketeers.” I chuckle dryly. “We saw each other every day and never fought or tired of each other’s company. We were there for her when she lost her dad—and for Sebastian when he lost his mom in a factory fire.”
She presses her lips together, her eyes soft and warm with a glassy sheen to them. They’ve never looked more beautiful. “Can I ask what happened?”
I lift my glass to my mouth and take a sip of the cool wine. “Sure.” It’s not as hard to talk about since so much time has passed. “It started out small. Little things that she’d brush off with a laugh and we thought nothing of it. But looking back, they were warning signs that shouldn’t have been ignored. Maybe … maybe if we’d paid attention, things would have been different for her. I don’t know.” My free hand grows clammy, so I wipe it on the denim covering my thigh and draw in a deep breath. As much as I’ve come to terms with Tahlia’s death, losing her still hurts. “She was incredible with science and math. Her brain was quick and accurate, like a calculator. She was planning to go to college to study structural engineering.” Hope’s eyes widen. “Tahlia was the smartest girl in our year in both subjects, but at the end of our senior year, she struggled with calculations. Things she’d normally solve in a few seconds took much longer. She’d laugh it off and put it down to the stress of finals, and we didn’t think to question it. Then she started to bump into doors and desks and lose her balance going up and down stairs. She even sideswiped a car in the parking lot one day, and even though she laughed it off, we knew it shook her up.”
Hope squeezes my hand again in quiet support and moves a little closer, her thigh brushing against mine. “If you wanna stop, you don’t have to tell me anymore. I don’t want to push.”
I drop my eyes to the counter for a moment to gather my composure, because this next part is brutal. My heart pounds double time, sending my blood rushing through my veins. The whoosh of my life force pulses loudly in my ears. “I haven’t shared this story with anyone else, but I’d like to share it with you, if that’s okay?”
She nods. “Of course.”
“Anyway, one night she was watching TV with her mom, and she lost the feeling in her left leg—like a terrible case of pins and needles. She couldn’t put any weight on it, but eventually, the feeling disappeared, and she thought nothing of it. Then, about a week later, we were hanging out at my place and her speech became slurred like she was drunk, and then she convulsed and passed out. It scared the shit out of Sebastian and me.” Hope’s gasp rings out like a gunshot in the quiet kitchen. “We called an ambulance and her mom, and they transported her to the hospital. At first, the doctors thought she’d had a stroke, so they ordered special scans, but instead of a blood clot, they found three huge tumors in her brain.”
“Oh, god.” Hope’s slender fingers tighten around mine, and pain radiates from her, hitting me like a tsunami. I silently absorb it as the waves crash over me, tracing her features slowly with my eyes.
“There wasn’t much they could do for her. She was having treatment to shrink the tumors and steroids to reduce the symptoms, hoping it would extend her life. A month later, she had a catastrophic stroke and passed away a few days later.” I shake my head as I think back to that time. We were shattered. “The loss devastated us. She was so young, so smart. Funny and loyal. It felt like a part of me died with her. If her mom and Sebastian hadn’t been there for me, I think I’d still be lost.” I couldn’t rely on my parents to be there for me. They were always too caught up in themselves and each other.
Hope’s shoulders slump. “Life’s so unfair sometimes.”
“Yep. They say only the good die young, and I think I believe that. She was the best out of the three of us.”
The air fryer beeps as Evan’s footsteps sound on the stairs, dragging me from my memories. Hope quickly untangles her fingers from mine and wipes beneath her eyes, turning away from me, leaving me feeling cold, lost, and disoriented. I didn’t plan to share my loss with her; she’s already drowning in grief for her husband and the father of her son. She didn’t need to know about mine, but it felt cathartic to share it with someone who understands the devastation of loss.
“Is dinner ready yet?” Evan asks as he steps into the kitchen, looking between me and his mom, a frown marring his forehead.
Hope shares one of her fake smiles when she looks at him. “It sure is. I’ll just make the sliders.”
I slip off the stool. “Can I help with anything?”
She glances at me over her shoulder. “You can grab the chicken and potatoes out of the fridge for Rex. Evan, grab an empty ice cream container for Ben, please.”
We each set about our tasks and, in a short amount of time, we’re slipping into our seats at the table outside, ready to dig into the delicious meal Hope prepared. “Thanks for the invitation to dinner. This looks fantastic.”
“Mom’s the best cook,” Evan declares proudly, his eyes bright.
Hope chuckles quietly. “I don’t know about that.”
I swallow a seasoned sweet potato wedge. “I dunno. This tastes pretty great.”
She tucks a long, curly lock behind her ear, exposing pink splotches along her sexy throat. Her lips tip up at the corners and her eyes crinkle slightly. “Thanks.”
We eat quietly for a while, enjoying the meal too much to talk. Hope tops off our wine, and as our initial hunger is somewhat abated, the conversation begins again.
Hope takes a sip of her wine and places the glass back on the table. “Does stuff like today happen often?” I tilt my head to the side and narrow my eyes, trying to figure out what she’s asking. “You know … chasing after people when you’re not working?”
I finish chewing the food in my mouth and lean back in my chair, hooking my arm behind the wooden back. “I wouldn’t say it happens often. It’s happened maybe a dozen times during my career, but when it does, I can’t turn my back on the crime I witness. Technically, I’m always on duty. I swore to serve and protect, and I take that vow seriously. It’s why I became a cop. I like to help people and keep them safe. It’s what gets me out of bed in the morning and gives me purpose.”
“Do you think I should be a cop, Mom?”
I turn to Evan. “What happened to writing?”
“I can do that too. You don’t work every day. I can write on my days off,” he shoots back like he’s had all the time in the world to think about it.
Hope’s already pale complexion lightens further beneath the porch light. “Uh.” Her eyes flick up to mine. “Why would you want to do that?”
“So I can help people like Ben does,” he answers casually, like he didn’t just flip my heart around in my chest. “It was really cool what he did today.” Warmth flows through my body, starting from my chest and making its way to my extremities. Hope turns toward me, her eyes soft and glistening.