Chapter 23
Chapter twenty-three
Ben
I hit play on the latest message. Her voice is breathless, pained.
I need you. Please, Ben. I won’t survive this.
Kelsey’s messages have flooded my phone for forty-eight hours. Each one more panicked and desperate than the last. I ignored them. I told myself it was nothing. That it always was. Until now. Until I received a voicemail from my mother.
Ben, this is your mother. A disaster is unfolding in your partner of a decade’s life. It’s time to stop pissing around and remember where your loyalties lie.
Not wanting to ruin the time Bex and I shared, I hadn’t told her about the calls. And yes, I feel guilty.
But she looks so happy, glowing, full of joy. The last thing I wanted to do was destroy that. She hinted a question as to why I was subdued, and I lied that I was just enjoying the moment. She continued to hold my hand and kiss me as we lounged around the villa or wandered the local streets.
We’ve had the most amazing two weeks together.
Making love in the sea, wandering naked around the villa, and spending our nights in each other’s arms. Then, last night, she took my breath away by telling me she loves me.
It was unexpected and beautiful. The perfect end to a perfect holiday.
I wanted to say it back, but… the words never came, even though they’re true.
The plane touches down on the runway, and I look out the window at the gray London sky. It mirrors the heaviness inside me. But then I glance at Bex, and for a moment, feel lighter.
Her skin is sun-kissed, and her hair has brightened in the Spanish sunshine.
She looks relaxed and happy with her nose stuck in a book ― judging by the half-naked man on the cover, a romance.
I could tell when she was reading a naughty part as her breathing hitched ever so slightly, the way it does when I run my fingers up the inside of her thigh unexpectedly.
Soft eyes meet mine, and I try to smile.
She frowns slightly, then leans forward, kissing the side of my mouth.
“I love you,” she murmurs again
My heart constricts, and the guilt twists deeper, like barbed wire around my chest. I want to tell her I love her too, but I just smile instead.
The taxi pulls up at our apartment. Bex skips to the communal entrance, her short summer dress bouncing as she does so.
Bright pink, scattered with white daisies, finishing just below her butt cheeks.
When she bends over, I’m treated to a view of her plump behind.
Her ass and I have become well acquainted over the past two weeks.
Sex has never been so intense. Losing myself in her night after night. She’s addictive. And I’m hooked. I can’t imagine getting bored with this woman.
My phone vibrates with another call from my mother.
I switched it to silent hours ago. Part of me wants to just ignore it, but I know if I don’t respond, another attempt will soon follow.
I resolve to call her back ASAP. Let her hear the venom in my tone.
Not that it’ll make a difference. She won’t notice.
My mother is an expert at ignoring other people’s emotions.
Her own agenda is always her top priority.
As I walk up the path behind Bex, the hollowness inside me grows. Tonight is going to hurt. Our cases are packed away, and Bex is getting settled for the night. I know the drama on my phone won’t go away unless I deal with it.
“I just need to nip into the hospital for a few hours,” I say, aiming for casual, but the strain bleeds in.
Bex looks up from her book. She’s spread out on the sofa, wearing a silky nightdress in a deep red. The neckline is low, and her long, elegant legs are on display. Her eyes ask questions without saying a word.
“I won’t be long. There are just a few things I need to check on,” I lie as smoothly as I can.
She shrugs her shoulders, accepting. My conscience screams at me to stop lying.
This isn’t how to protect her. Our relationship is too new, too fresh.
Even though we’ve known each other for years, we’re only now truly getting to know each other.
Growing something beautiful, something that feels as though it will last. But I ignore the warnings.
Not because I don’t trust her, because I don't trust myself to not ruin what we’ve built.
I don’t want to bring Kelsey into this space. Into our space.
Grabbing my long black coat, I head out the door, shame trailing behind me.
I’ve just lied to the woman who confessed to loving me.
A woman I’ve spent two weeks with, loving every second.
Her warmth, her laughter, her spirit, all perfectly made for me.
But how do I explain walking away from something perfect to revisit something broken?
Even now, I don’t know if I’m saving Kelsey or betraying Bex. But I know the guilt will eat me alive if I don’t go.
Rain pelts down, filling the roads with water. I step in a puddle as I climb into my car. It does nothing to improve my self-loathing. It only deepens the hatred gnawing at me. Now I’m in a foul mood with wet feet. And the night is only beginning.
As I pull up outside my parents’ home, desolation settles like a weight on my shoulders. The fact that Kelsey is here with my parents is alarming. She’s my ex-partner, and my parents still treat her as if she’s their future daughter-in-law. We were never even engaged.
My feet are heavy as I walk up the old path. My father opens the door with a grim line across his face.
“You’re here, finally,” he barks. “Where were you?” I shrug my shoulders, knowing better than to answer. I follow him into the living room, wanting to walk straight back out the door with each heavy step.
She’s sitting on the single chair by the window, her head lowered, her focus on her feet. She’s clutching a mug on her lap. Soft brown curls have fallen forward over her face, and she’s crying softly.
My mother’s crouched in front of her, one hand on her knee, the other stroking her back. From the way my mother's knees creak, I can tell they’ve been like that for a while. Both look up as I enter the room, and I get a full view of Kelsey’s tear-stained face. My mother takes the mug from her.
Kelsey rises swiftly, running into my arms. I instinctively wrap them around her as she breaks into huge sobs, her head on my chest and arms around my waist. It feels so wrong, but so familiar at the same time. It’s disorienting. Too many memories packed into a single action.
We stand like that for what feels like an eternity, then I maneuver her to the sofa and sit down beside her.
She’s holding my hands with an iron grip, as though terrified that if she lets go, I’ll disappear.
I’m still at a total loss as to what has happened.
I look to my parents for answers. Stone faces stare back.
“Kels, what’s the matter? What’s happened?” I keep my voice quiet and soft. After years at her side, I know gentle works best. Devastated eyes lock with mine.
“He’s dead,” she simply says.
I look from Kelsey to my parents, and my heart sinks. Her father is dead. This, I wasn’t expecting. I pull her into my arms and kiss the top of her head. She falls to pieces, and I hold on as tight as I can.
Kelsey’s father had been driving to his allotment, only five minutes from his house. We bought the piece of land as a birthday present for him after his wife died. It gave him focus in those terrible first few years.
He hadn’t seen the van pulling out in front of him from a side street and drove straight into the side of it.
The shock of the accident triggered a cardiac arrest. He was dead before the ambulance arrived.
His trusty little dog, Benji, was on the passenger seat, still in his harness.
Now, he’s curled up in front of the fire in my parents’ front room, quiet and probably confused.
The police had visited Kelsey at work, taking her into the patient consulting room to break the news. When my parents arrived to collect her an hour later, she was still crumpled on the floor, sobbing her heart out. They brought her back to the house, and she hadn’t left since.
The angry eyes of my mother burn into me. I carry Kelsey to bed and tuck her in, kissing her forehead as she drifts off. She has no one now. Just us. A sudden wave of responsibility hits. It’s suffocating. She needs me.
Back in my parents’ living room, the three of us sit somberly, watching the seconds on the clock on the wall tick by. No one has said a word for thirty minutes. Their disapproval radiates from them.
“Why didn’t you tell me what had happened? I’d have caught a flight home.”
I look at them both, desperate for some logic to cling to.
“Kelsey asked us not to tell you,” my mother replies, her voice cool. “She said you’d moved on. She didn’t want to be a burden. She only admitted she contacted you herself after I called you.”
Her words are bitter, calculated. The perfected deflection in every sentence hitting the target, sending me spiraling like it always does. They slip under my skin, guilt creeping up my spine and spreading until I can’t say no.
“Ben, you spent a decade of your life with this girl. You know how vulnerable she is. I’m so disappointed in you for not taking her seriously. Judging by the number of calls she made to you, did you not think the situation was important? I saw her phone. You blatantly ignored her pleas for help.”
I take a deep breath, knowing that whatever I say will sound pathetic. There’s no explaining my way out of this. Any excuse or reason won’t cut it; it never does when it doesn’t fit the agenda of my parents.
“The thing is… Kelsey’s always been dramatic. And we’ve been separated for a year. If I’d known… I would’ve come home.” Even to my own ears, I sound weak. My mother rolls her eyes, clicking her tongue disapprovingly. Her face darkens, the anger I’ve known since childhood rising.