19. Ben
19
Ben
A fter Cole was confirmed to be the father of Kelsey’s baby, he and Kelsey moved to Austin so that Cole could join my dad at our family’s general contracting company. I think my dad pushed for them to relocate to Texas because he realized I needed them as far removed from my life as possible in order to heal from their betrayal.
Following Duke’s birth, I wanted to be the bigger person and set aside my hurt to mend the rift within our family. The friction between Cole and me was tearing my mom apart, so I agreed to come home for a visit. But it was too much, too soon and I couldn’t handle it emotionally. I harbored too much anger towards Cole and my unresolved feelings for Kelsey clouded my judgment. I was still gutted by their deception and being around Kelsey was next to impossible for me.
Throughout the visit, Kelsey sought me out time and again, trying to lure me back into a physical relationship with her. I’m ashamed to admit that I was tempted. Kelsey’s presence had always been a heady aphrodisiac for me. It never mattered how pissed off I was at her or how much I professed to hate her, my body, working independent of my brain, reacted to her in ways I couldn’t control.
It would have been easy to get swept back into her web of lies and deceit, but I refused to do to my brother what he had done to me .
Rebuffing Kelsey was one of the hardest things I’ve done, and I was afraid I wasn’t strong enough to continue telling her no. She could sense my uncertainty, and I knew she’d prey upon my weakness until I succumbed to her advances. So, I cut my trip short and flew back early. In the intervening years, my parents have flown to California to see me, but I haven’t returned to Austin since that disastrous visit.
Unfortunately, some things never change. It’s been two years, but Kelsey’s still playing the same games. While we dated, I only paid attention to her beautiful appearance and willing body. I was stupid and horny and took her at face value. But I no longer do. Like a curtain that has been raised, I clearly see the calculated way she behaves now.
I was mostly saved from Kelsey yesterday because I spent the remainder of the day in the kitchen cooking with my mom and Carlisle. Unfortunately, today has been a different story. Kelsey has spent all day trying to corner me alone in hopes of rekindling our previous relationship. When those attempts proved unsuccessful, she openly flirted with me, making everyone uncomfortable and pissing off Cole. No matter how many times I shut her down, she doesn’t quit.
As I’m in the kitchen drying and putting away the last of the dishes from our holiday dinner, the rest of the family is outside enjoying drinks and more desserts on the patio. Standing at the sink, I watch Carlisle through the large window overlooking the backyard. Something my mom says makes Carlisle throw back her head in laughter, and I smile in response, vicariously basking in Carlisle’s happiness.
Distracted and lost in thought, I don’t sense Kelsey’s presence in the kitchen until she touches me. Her hands slide under my sweater and around my waist, quickly drifting lower and lower. Tensing under her touch, I jerk my body out of her grip and pivot to face her, almost dropping the platter that I’m drying in the process of escaping her hands .
Kelsey’s touch feels wrong.
When I turn to face her, I realize everything about her is wrong. She looks wrong, she smells wrong, she feels wrong.
She is wrong for me.
And this time, finally, my body and my brain agree. Kelsey isn’t my person.
Maybe I had to find the right person before I could realize that.
I’m fucking pissed that Kelsey continues trying to involve me in her shit. Eyes flashing, with my voice in a barely controlled whisper, I speak through gritted teeth, “Don’t fucking touch me, Kelsey. Never again.”
She scrunches up her nose and juts out her bottom lip, pouting. “Don’t be like that, Ben.” Kelsey reaches for the button on my jeans, but I slap her hand away. Undeterred, she whimpers, “We were good together, and we still could be.”
“We were never good together, Kelsey. You’re a vindictive, manipulative bitch. But none of that even matters because you’re married to my brother. Loyalty may not mean anything to you, but it means everything to me.” After drying my hands on a dish towel, I throw it on the kitchen counter. “We’re over, Kelsey. We’ve been over for three fucking years, and we’re never, ever getting back together. Leave me the fuck alone.”
Leaving Kelsey gawping like a fish out of water in the kitchen, I join the others on the back patio, eager to get back to my girl.
Continuing the guise that Carlisle and I are merely friends, I sit down next to her but keep space between our bodies. Over the next hour, Carlisle occasionally glances my way and smiles. Sometimes the wind blows just right, enabling me to catch a faint whiff of her vanilla scented perfume. Other times, she shifts in her seat and brushes up against me, and that’s enough for now. Just being close to her is enough for now.
But it won’t be enough for much longer because I need Carlisle in a way that I’ve never needed another woman before.
My mom and Carlisle share a bottle of wine and discuss their favorite books, Christmas shopping, and college football. My dad, my brother, and I sip bourbon and listen to the ladies talk. Occasionally, one of us chimes in when their conversation turns to football, but for the most part, we’re content to listen. Duke has fallen asleep in Cole’s arms, worn out from a long day without a proper nap. Eventually, Kelsey drifts back outside, but she sits off to the side, glaring at us. I ignore her.
Not my monkey, not my circus. Not anymore, anyway.
Soon enough, Kelsey, Cole, and Duke leave to return to their own home. Not long afterwards, my mom and Carlisle finish their wine. We gather the glasses and plates, depositing them in the sink to deal with tomorrow, and then we all retire separately to our bedrooms.
Trudging up the stairs, I open the door to my childhood bedroom. It's bizarre being an adult and staying in my childhood room when I visit. When I moved to California, my mom kept my room preserved like a shrine. It’s still decorated with sports trophies, a framed football jersey, and movie posters from over a decade ago.
Pondering the past, I sit down in my desk chair and look at the corkboard hanging on the wall above my desk. It’s littered with high school memories, many of which prominently feature my younger brother. With only fifteen months between us, we’d grown up as both brothers and best friends.
Wherever I went, he went. Whatever I did, he did.
Until Cole took that one step too far.
God, I wish things could be different between us.
But our lives diverged as soon as he took my girlfriend into his bed. I was hurt and humiliated by Kelsey’s deceit, but Cole’s betrayal broke me.
Until today, the primary emotions that I felt towards my brother have been rage and resentment, but right now all I feel towards Cole is sympathy. I escaped Kelsey’s toxicity, but he never will. Because of Duke, Cole’s trapped in a relationship with Kelsey for the rest of his life. Even if they split up, they’ll forever be bonded as Duke’s parents. In one capacity or another, Cole will always have to deal with Kelsey.
I feel guilty as hell when I think about how relieved I am that Duke isn’t my kid, and that I have the luxury of walking away from Kelsey.
My depressing stroll down memory lane is interrupted by a soft knock on my door. I hop up from the desk to swing open the door. Timidly, Carlisle stands in my doorway. Her face is scrubbed free of make-up, her hair is pulled back into a messy bun perched high atop her head, and she’s only wearing an old t-shirt that reaches midway down her thighs.
I shove open the door wider and she slips under my arm and into the room.
As she did when she first entered my house in LA, she slowly spins in a circle, taking in the space that represents my childhood. She walks along the perimeter of the room, her fingertips brushing the sports medals and trophies. Moving towards my bedside table, I cringe knowing exactly what has drawn her attention. Picking up the picture frame, she grins as she studies it.
“I vaguely remember you mentioning once that you were a theater geek before getting into sports.”
“Somebody had to play the Tin Man in The Wizard of Oz , so it may as well have been me,” I shrug casually, trying to downplay how dorky I look in that photo. It was taken during my freshman year of high school, and I was in the midst of puberty. Tall, gangly, and awkward… and I was wearing a costume made entirely of aluminum foil. It wasn’t a good look for anyone.
Closing the distance between us, I come up behind her and loosely wrap my arms around her, pulling her back into the front of my body. She nestles her head into the crook of my shoulder, and melts against me.
“Enough snooping around my old room, let’s go to the guest room. We can’t sleep together in this twin bed.” I coax Carlisle towards the door, as she hesitates.
“What? Your parents are literally sleeping like twenty feet away from here,” she hisses, her azure eyes growing wide. “We can’t stay together!”
“Carlisle,” I say patiently. “I’m 30-years-old. If I want to sleep in the same bed as you, I think my parents will survive. Besides, I slept here last night, and my feet hang off the end of the mattress. I’m not doing that again tonight.”
She chews her bottom lip, toiling with her indecision, until she relents. “Okay, fine, but you have to sneak back in here early tomorrow morning, so your parents don’t know that we slept together.”
Smirking, I love how she blushes when she realizes what her word choice implies. “I can do both of those things—sneak back here tomorrow and sleep with you.”
“Shut up,” she huffs demurely.
When we hit the hallway, I nudge her to follow me and lift my finger to my lips. After sneaking out all during high school, I know exactly which floorboards squeak and which don’t. Once we make it to the safety of the guest room, I grab Carlisle’s hand and pull her towards me. I need her in my arms again, feeling her heart beating next to mine. I've hated not being able to touch her freely .
Cupping the back of her neck, I tilt her head upwards and train my eyes upon hers. “Thank you for being here and for being you.” Christ, I don’t deserve the goodness and grace that Carlisle has shown me during this trip. I dumped her in the deep end of my family drama, and she hung with me without complaint. “I’m not sure I would’ve stayed sane without you here.”
“I’ve loved spending time with you and your parents.” The corners of her mouth wiggle as she fights a losing battle to suppress a grin. “Was it awkward AF at times? Yeah, but it was also wonderful AF at other times.”
The stress that has been coiled inside of me the last few days loosens its grip, and I take a slow, deep breath. I bury my head into Carlisle’s hair, inhaling the now familiar scent, feeling really grateful. I gently knead the muscles of her neck and shoulders, and she groans in response to my touch.
“God, that feels good. Please don’t stop.”
Whispering in her ear, I reply, “I won’t stop unless you want me to.” She shivers against me, and my dick springs to life.
I trail my hands down to the curve where her waist meets her hips, slipping one hand under her shirt so that I can touch her satiny soft skin. She splays her fingers over my chest, feeling the planes of my muscles and making my heart thump erratically under her electric touch.
Gazing up at me, I see the churning storm of desire in her eyes that mirrors my own. I return her stare, drinking in her beauty like a man who’s been marooned in the desert.
Carlisle stands on her tiptoes, tilting her head and lifting her sweet mouth to mine. Her kiss is tentative, but grows bolder, more passionate quickly as her tongue moves with mine in a feverish dance full of lust and longing. She threads her hands up my neck and into my hair, raking her fingers deliciously along my scalp.
Through the thin fabric of her nightshirt, I feel the outline of her perky breasts as she presses against me. But I want to feel more of her. Breaking the kiss, my fingers fist the hem of her t-shirt and lift it over her head. The cool air hits her nipples causing them to pebble. Now it’s my turn to groan.
“Carlisle, if you want to stop, please tell me now.” My resolve to take it slowly with her weakens by the second.
“I don’t want to stop, Ben.”