19. Lisa #2
Luckily, a quick sweep of the townhome uncovers some thick, fluffy robes, and I bundle up to open the hot tub and start it up.
I wait until the last minute to fling my robe aside and dive into the hot tub, bracing against the cold mountain air.
It takes a second, but then I sigh and sink deeper into the water, letting the heat and the jets work on loosening my muscles.
A few minutes go by, and my mind begins to wander, giving me warning signs that it’s moving to dangerous places. I brought books I could read, and I could put on a podcast, or music, but none of those sound appealing right now.
Then, it hits me: I’m lonely. I want someone to be with.
And I think…I think I want that person to be Benjamin Estes.
I grab my phone and smile when I see his name in my phone, deciding to change it. He’s successfully fought off his Cocky Shit moniker. My fingers hover over the keyboard as I consider what to type next, or if it’s even something I should do. After a minute, I sigh and hit send. No going back now.
Me: What’re you guys up to?
Benji: Just hanging w/Jordie and Highcloud. Grant’s off duty and on booty next door.
Me: I know. Had to go out to the hot tub to escape any potential thumping against the wall.
Benji: A little hot tub sesh, you say?
I pause, summoning the courage for what I want to ask. I know I’m comfortable with him, but am I ready for where this might head?
I think back to our almost-kiss, and my toes curl. Yep…I’m definitely ready for that. The question is just if he will be ready, or if he’s still planning to keep his word on his ultimatum. We’ll see about that.
Me: Interested in taking a dip?
Benji: I thought you’d never ask. Be there in 2.
I stumble out of the hot tub to dry off, then slide into my robe. By the time I open the door, Benji is already there. He’s in a matching robe, and he smiles down at me, holding up peppermint schnapps and marshmallows. “Hot chocolate?”
Before I can answer, he breezes into the room, and I stare at the large, dark man towering in my kitchen, set on making cocoa. It’s a jarring image, but he doesn’t seem deterred at all. Instead, he turns and leans over the kitchen counter with a questioning look. “Big or small mug?”
“Big mug, for sure.”
I watch him plop marshmallows into the two mugs, and he motions to the patio.
I follow him outside and he halts, both mugs in hand, waiting for me to get into the hot tub first. I hesitate for a moment, but it’s too cold to delay the inevitable for long.
I throw the robe off and step into the hot tub, keeping Benji in my line of sight.
His gaze grows molten, shamelessly devouring me in my swimsuit, but he stays where he is.
I sink into the water, grateful. Somehow in the many small moments where we’ve interacted, he’s met my moods where they’re at – quiet when I’m overwhelmed, teasing when I was able, ready to help me let off steam when needed.
When I’m fully situated, he comes up next to me, handing me both mugs.
“Thanks.” I take the hot chocolate from him, and he shrugs his robe off.
I’ve seen him shirtless twice now, but the sight again, at such close proximity, makes my fingers itch with the urge to run them over his broad shoulders and across the planes of his abs.
He’s absolutely magnificent. Instead, I curl my fingers tighter around the mugs.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Benji asks, settling into the hot tub on the opposite side. He leans forward, motioning for his hot chocolate. I hand him his mug and sip my own, the minty schnapps adding a boost to the beverage.
Am I bold enough to share my thoughts out loud?
Not yet, I decide. “I’m thinking about Winny,” I say instead. “I hope he’s doing all right.”
Benji nods thoughtfully, taking a large gulp from his own drink. “I miss my parents’ dog,” he says absently. “I used to get home to visit so often, but it’s been months now. I barely even talk to them, let alone visit.”
I take in this information and sink lower into the hot tub.
Benjamin strikes me as someone who has his whole life put together, which includes the perfect family.
Someone who goes home for every holiday and calls his family weekly, if not daily.
I imagine everyone in his life being supportive and loving. What caused him to pull back?
“I’m sorry,” I finally say, curiosity getting the best of me. “Do you mind if I ask why?”
“Ah.” Benji pauses, his mug stalled on its way to his mouth.
Finally, he raises it fully, takes another long sip.
When he continues speaking, he’s focused on the soft snow falling around us, rather than meeting my gaze.
His voice is soft, strained. “My brother passed away. Ten months ago. It’s been tough on my family. ”
“Oh.” I say the word on an exhale, assessing him. The grief is so plain to see in his expression now, as if every line of it has built up over the last ten months. How did I not see it before?
He kept it so well hidden beneath his smirks and well-placed quips.
Though, now that I think about it, we spent most of our time circling around the topic of my background.
I never pushed him to talk about his. He’s choosing to share it with me now, and I only had to ask once. “I’m so sorry, Benji.”
He gives me an off-kilter smile, one that I realize is practiced for moments like these. “It’s not your fault. Though,” he adds thoughtfully, “it was part of the reason I was so mad at you when we first met.”
I must look as startled as I feel, because he continues haltingly.
“Jake was amazing at hockey. He was two years older than me, but we both played hockey together for a bit in high school, and then even at the same university. I knew I was following in his footsteps, just trying to keep up, but how could I not? He was a once in a lifetime talent.” Benji shakes his head affectionately.
I take a long drink from my own mug, waiting for him to continue.
“It was amazing, getting to play my favorite sport with my favorite person. And he was really making a name for himself. I ended up as captain of the Leopards, but he easily would have been, it’s just, he was already getting called up to play in the show more often than not.
Hell, his first season with the Minnesota Chill, he was making headlines for his great plays every game. But with that attention came the fans.”
At this, his smile fades, his expression growing dark.
“He ended up with a stalker. It started off almost…funny? But over time, she grew more and more intense. The day he…he died, she was following him in an ice storm. He couldn’t brake at a red light because he was going too fast, trying to outrun her, and someone T-boned him. ”
“Oh my god,” I murmur, and scoot closer, reaching for his hand.
He puts his mug down and takes it, turning it over thoughtfully.
I replay his words in my head, stunned. I can’t imagine what it must feel like to have a sibling you not only love but share a career with, play on the same team with.
And to lose that person, in such a gruesome way?
All I can think to do is squeeze his hand, hoping to convey a bit of comfort.
“I wasn’t able to finish last season, after that.
” He takes a deep breath. “I wasn’t even sure I would play again this year, but my team was there to pick me up, and make sure I didn’t sink too far into the grief.
They convinced me that my brother would’ve wanted me to get back out there.
And it made me realize…grief isn’t meant to be carried alone. ”
I hum my agreement, his words hitting uncomfortably close to home. For so many years, I’d been alone without even realizing it. It’s only now that the loneliness is starting to fade.
“And then you showed up. And I was worried the same thing would happen to me, or one of my teammates, when we kept running into each other.” He shoots me a guilty look. “I know now how crazy that sounds.”
I shake my head. “No. It makes a lot of sense, actually.” I pause, gazing down at our intertwined hands. “My mom died in a car accident, too.”
His head jerks up. “What? When?”
“Almost four years ago. But it still…it still hurts, sometimes.” I answer honestly, and I’m surprised by how good it feels to share it with someone else, someone I know will be gentle with it.
“I’m sorry,” he replies quietly. “Were you close with her?”
I take a moment, then nod. “She was everything good I had.”
He doesn’t push, but suddenly, the silence feels overwhelming. I pull my hand from his and grab our mugs. “This feels like a good time to refill these. You want some more?”
He takes them from me. “I’ll handle it.”
I watch him as he re-enters the kitchen, still only wearing his swimming trunks, and consider what he told me.
The comments the people at the gym made suddenly make so much more sense – and so does his initial reaction to me.
In a way, it seems, we were both sizing each other up, just waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Little did we know what the other was going through…
and, at least on my part, I didn’t even bother to ask. The thought makes me frown.
Benji gives the living room a scan before he returns outside, and when he does, he eyes me conspiratorially. “Looks like the place has no card games or anything.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so. Why?”
“Well. Now I don’t know how we’re going to play any drinking games with our exciting cocktails.” He lifts the mugs and grins before settling back in the hot tub and passing me mine.
“Well, we can always play our game,” I say, my heart rate spiking even as I utter it out loud. When he tilts his head at me, I add, “Truth for a truth. If we don’t want to answer, we drink.”
He purses his lips in consideration, and I hold my breath as I wait. Finally, he shrugs and extends his mug. “I’m in. Cheers.”
We move quickly through the easy questions, like our favorite colors and animals, all the way into shows and music. He asks if he can list several favorite movies instead of just one, and drinks when I say no, but I have to do the same when I can’t decide on just one favorite book.
We’ve reached the end of our third spiked cocoa when we run out of simple favorites, and we’ve drawn closer to one another with each question.
Our thighs are touching, invisible under the steam and bubbles, and I’ve begun dragging my foot along his leg.
One of his hands has drifted under the water, fingertips grazing every now and then across my bare skin.
Each point of contact sends delicious shock waves to my core.
“First kiss?” I ask, and he makes a face.
“Geneva Samson. Second grade. We literally knocked teeth, and I lost one of those teeth the next day. Clearly, we had no idea what kissing actually was.” He smirks, and I smile in response as I watch his dimples flash. “Last ex?” he asks.
I draw in a sharp breath and duck my head to my mug, polishing off the last drops. I put the mug down pointedly, and he gives me an apologetic look. His hand travels to my cheek, turning my head back to him with barely a touch. “Sorry. Touchy subject?”
“Uh.” I wave dismissively and avert my eyes, even as the room is starting to spin. “It’s fine.” I scramble for another question, but at this point, I only have one left that’s been bouncing around in my head for the past five minutes. I blurt it out. “So. Are you going to kiss me?”
His hand slips away from my cheek as quickly as he put it there, his expression shuttering. “No.”
My heart dives from my throat to the pit of my stomach. “Why not?”
“You know why. Besides, little fighter,” he says, “I want you to make that decision for yourself. I’m not going to force anything on you. Every step is going to be dictated by you.” He leans back until no part of us is touching anymore. “So until you take that leap of faith, I’ll be here, waiting.”
I bit my lip, considering him. I want to crawl onto him, try to see if I can kiss him without having to open the door to my past, but I can’t handle another rejection. So I remain frozen, unable to close the gap he created between us.
Emptiness, I realize, can take up so much physical space. The mere inches between us are filled with it – empty promises, empty wishes and empty dreams. Empty hearts.
Finally, he gives me a sad smile. “I hope someday, you’ll choose not to ice me out. I hope you’ll choose me.”
He puts his mug down, his intention clear.
Our drinks are empty, the game is over, and he’s planning to leave.
Through my haze of uncertainty, the realization slams into me: I don’t want him to leave.
The disappointment of him leaving after everything suddenly overwhelms every anxiety I have about my secrets.
“Well,” he says, shifting, and I place a hand on his chest to stop him. He pauses and I open my mouth, but the words catch in my throat. After a long moment, he removes my hand and rises from the hot tub. I rise with him.
“Alyssa,” I blurt.
Benji turns back around, staring down at me. We both exhale, the heaviness of the moment mingling in the cold winter air.
I repeat the words I thought would never pass my lips again. “My real name is Alyssa.”