Chapter 14
Chapter fourteen
Ben
The apartment feels wrong. Too quiet. Too still. Kelsey’s stuff is gone. Her wardrobe stripped, toothbrush missing, even the stupid aloe vera plant she kept on the windowsill. All she left me was a letter.
A single folded sheet of paper, waiting on the table like a bomb. No angry voicemail. No dramatic goodbye. A few words on paper, and silence to end a decade together.
I keep expecting to hear her footsteps. To find her in the kitchen, giving me the silent treatment. But there’s nothing. Just the hum of the fridge and the sound of my own thoughts.
When I got home from work, the apartment was empty.
I assumed I was the first person home. That made a change.
Before the Halloween party, the girls would be sitting spread out on the sofas when I walked through the door.
Their chatter animated, concerning a colleague at work or some celebrity’s new haircut.
After a day in the hospital, I found their endless gossiping comforting. Taking solace in the insignificance of what concerns them is relaxing after the stress of a ward.
On a normal day, they’d all smile, and Kels would go make me a cup of tea. It’s been disconcerting not having my usual homecoming. But it hasn’t been the same these past few weeks; things are awkward.
Bex got home then, skipping through the door with her new, upbeat confidence. She came to an abrupt halt when she saw me. “What’s wrong?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know yet.” It was the only response I could muster.
Picking up the paper from the table, I turned it over in my hands. This was so Kelsey, drama wrapped in perfection. If it had only been the letter, I wouldn’t have been worried. But the fact the keys were beside it made my stomach flip. Slowly, I peeled it open. It was short and sweet.
Dear Ben,
There is a problem with our relationship. You’ve changed.
I can’t stay here and watch you drift away.
So, I must go. I must protect myself.
Love, Kelsey xoxo
A note. A short goodbye after nearly ten years. I read it. Stared. Then read it again. It was then the panic set in.
I called her phone over and over, but she didn’t pick up. I left voicemails begging her to call me back. My mind went straight to the worst-case scenarios. What if she hurt herself?
After no success in tracking her down, I called her father, the man who had been to hell and back with the death of his wife.
It was only in recent months that his mood had improved.
I’m sure it’s because of his new friend.
Once, when I had dropped some homemade biscuits round from Kelsey, I’d seen her.
He asked me not to say anything as he wanted to keep things private. I respected his wishes.
“Ben,” his calm, cool voice answered on the first ring, “she’s here.”
My heart rate immediately slowed. Relief came, followed by a flood of anger. She knew damn well how her exit would affect me. That the lack of information would drive me insane.
“What’s going on? All she will tell me is there is a problem at home, and she needed to leave.” His voice was confused. I considered my words carefully, though I was as lost as him.
“I’m not sure. Things have been a bit strained recently, but I had no idea she felt like this. I came home to a note and her keys.” He sighed.
“She’s safe. Give her a few days, and I’ll get her to call you.”
She never did.
Her father said she was refusing to speak to me. She wouldn’t answer my calls. He told me she was crying one minute and declaring freedom the next. Her job transfer was already in progress. She wasn’t coming back. So, I packed up the last few bits she left and sent them by courier.
That was it. We were done.
And here’s the part I hate to admit. The truth that keeps me up at night.
Beyond the ache, the heartbreak, and the loss was an emotion stronger than any other.
Relief. An unburdening that can only be felt when pressure eases.
Kelsey leaving me gave me a freedom I hadn’t experienced since being a teenage boy, and I liked it.
***
With Kelsey gone these past weeks, my mind is doing the one thing I wish it wouldn’t.
It keeps drifting to Bex. Something’s shifted between us, and I don’t know what to do with it.
I thought I was doing a good job of ignoring it.
Clearly not. I’ve never looked at Bex like that.
Not until now. And maybe not even now. It’s not lust, it’s awareness.
She’s bold. Alive. Like finally, she sees herself, never mind everyone else noticing her. She’s always been Bex. Slightly awkward. Messy buns. Witty comments she doesn’t realize she’s making. Just a pleasant person to be around. I’ve never thought of her in any other way. Not seriously.
Until now, sitting here, surrounded by Kelsey’s absence and wondering what the hell it all means. These past weeks made me notice her. That’s all. But perhaps that’s dangerous enough.
I’m sitting on the sofa watching the soccer match.
The TV’s on, but I’m not really watching.
There’s been no sign of Bex today. Maybe she’s sleeping off a hangover.
She went out with Amy last night. Bex dressed in that damn nurse's outfit again. A belated fancy dress party. Or maybe they’re avoiding the tension that hangs around like fog since Kelsey’s departure.
Part of me wonders if she stayed out. The idea bothers me more than it should. I push away the image that forms. It’s none of my business. This is ridiculous. A complete overreaction. My mind is fried with Kelsey leaving. I’m distracting myself with this nonsense.
I blame the silence. The abundance of time to overthink. I’ve never had these thoughts about Bex before. Not intentionally, anyway. And I’m not starting now. I sit and stew for a while, caught between obsession and guilt.
Feet padding softly down the hall tell me that someone has woken up. There is a slight cough and then, “Ouch! Fuck, that bloody hurts.” I stifle a giggle as Bex appears in the living room. “Bloody door. Stubbed my toe,” she smarts.
I smile. She looks like chaos—hair everywhere, makeup smudged, drowning in an oversized t-shirt.
But somehow, it suits her. She drops onto the arm of the sofa with a groan and rubs at her toe, completely unfazed by her dishevelment.
There’s something strangely endearing about that. Tired eyes meet mine, and she smiles.
“Morning,” I say quietly.
“Is it still morning? I haven’t had as much fun as I did last night in a long time. I need to wear a nurse's costume more often. Two outings, and they’ve been the best.” She laughs, and it is completely infectious. I can’t help but chuckle along with her.
“What?” she questions, catching me off guard. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
She frowns slightly as she searches my face for clues.
She’ll be automatically jumping to the wrong conclusions.
Looking to smooth a surface or bridge a gap before an issue arises.
I look her square in the eye, trying to make sense of the new version of her I keep seeing.
One caught somewhere between the Bex before, and this more confident one.
“I’m just enjoying seeing you so happy. It’s nice to see you smiling the morning after a night out. Normally, you’re quite down and brooding.”
Her eyes pop wide. I realize my comment was deep. I didn’t even realize I’d noticed. But I had. Somewhere along the line, I started paying attention. She’s looking at me curiously, obviously thinking the same thing. A few minutes later, I’m just sitting there gawking.
There’s a pull I don’t understand. A weight in the air that didn’t used to be there.
She looks at me uneasily, completely at sea with my bizarre behavior.
Dragging my focus away, I pretend to go back to watching the game, needing to steady myself.
No one has ever affected me like this. And I’ve not even touched her, not that I plan to.
This isn’t the time to consider anything beyond what’s happening now.
She wanders round to the other sofa and sits down, curling her legs up underneath her. “Who’s playing?” she asks.
Her words surprise me. Bex is no more interested in soccer than swimming the channel. I raise an eyebrow, and she laughs, deep and throaty, her head thrown back, accentuating her shape.
“That was crap small talk. I don’t care.” She smiles and winks.
I snigger, then we both settle down with our eyes on the TV, but neither of us is watching it.
There is electricity, a buzz in the air.
I’m not sure what is happening, but it feels like something has changed between us.
The attraction is mutual. That both excites me and terrifies me.
But I also know it’s not a path I can follow to find out.
We’ve all been friends for too long. Dating within the circle is messy. Dating someone’s best friend after breaking her heart? That’s the move of an asshole.
***
There’s nothing sexier than a radiant woman. The past few weeks have proven it to me. Every day, Bex emerges from her room dressed in a new figure-hugging outfit and heels. She leaves for work with her head held high.
At night, when the three of us sit on the sofas, her phone is constantly vibrating with calls from her seemingly unending stream of admirers.
Each time she gets herself dolled up to leave for a date, my jealousy increases a notch.
Today was the day that my worst fear from the past few weeks was realized.
Walking into our living room, I find a dark-haired man sitting on my sofa. He’s only wearing an extremely small pair of boxer shorts. The strain on his crotch tells me he is well-endowed. I mentally smack myself for even noticing. Is checking out another man’s junk normal? He looks up and sees me.
“Who the fuck are you?” I snap, feeling completely thrown to have a random man in the flat. His eyes widen, taken aback by my outburst. Then, I hear her voice.
“It’s okay, Ben. He’s with me.” Bex appears in the living room, carrying two mugs of tea. “Ben, this is Eric.” She smiles, thinking I will be polite.
Jealousy claws at my chest. My temperature skyrockets. I’m livid. How dare this idiot be in my flat with my…
No, she’s not mine. Not even close. And she can’t be. But the idea of her with someone else makes something snap inside. A possessiveness I’ve never felt before. Not even with Kelsey.
I spin to face her. And before I can stop myself, the words spill out. Filled with cruelty, pure venom.
“Is this what you have become, Bex? The local bike? Bringing random guys home because you’ve learned how to put a bit of makeup on?”
The silence is deafening. My words hang in the air. I want to take them back, but I can’t. The room disappears within the bitterness. She places the mugs on the table in slow motion.
Her eyes harden; anger flashes mixed with disbelief. Then it bursts through the barrier of her self-control. She slaps me hard across the face, and I deserve it.
“How fucking dare you? You asshole,” she spits.
I don’t even flinch. She’s right. I went too far. The slap didn’t hurt nearly as much as the shame will.
Eric looks between us, completely confused by the outburst. Bex turns and grabs his hand.
She leads him to her bedroom without a backward glance.
Their two cups of tea sit untouched on the coffee table.
I sit back on the sofa. My hands run through my hair.
It feels slick with sweat, and a few beads trickle down my forehead.
My muscles are taut, as if ready to fight.
I stare at the TV for a while, contemplating what to do next. I’m utterly bewildered.
Normally, I’m an in-control person; feelings and emotions don’t tend to get in my way. I’m good at compartmentalizing situations, popping them on the shelf until I have time to deal with them. Or never dealing with them at all, if that’s easier.
But this situation is living with me every day, in the home that I share with my friends. I go to bed every night alone, but my mind is with the woman two doors down.
Suddenly, I’m aware I’m being watched. Amy is standing at the door. She’s dressed in her gym gear, ready to head out for a run. She’s quiet, arms folded across her chest. No teasing, no playful jab. Just hostile.
“What the hell was all that?” she asks. Not a hint of sarcasm, just steel.
“Nothing,” I mutter.
“Ben.” Her voice hardens. “Don’t bullshit me. I heard every fucking word.”
I rub my face, ashamed. “It just slipped out. I didn’t mean it.”
“She’s my sister,” Amy snarls. “And she’s finally happy. Confident. Finding herself after years of playing backup.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t. Because if you did, you wouldn’t have said that. She didn’t deserve it.”
“I was angry,” I say, knowing it’s no excuse. The silence stretches. Amy takes a deep breath.
“You have no right to be.” I can’t look at her. She’s calling me out. “But she’ll forgive you.”
“I’ll apologize.” I stand, considering whether to go and knock on her door. It’s probably not the best time, so I sit back down.
“She’ll forgive you,” Amy repeats. This time, I look at her. “But if you move forward with this, then break her heart… I won’t.”
And with that, she’s gone.