Chapter 15 #2
I try to catch my breath, my heart beating double-time, my entire focus on Benson’s face as he stares at me in what might be shock. Or wonder.
“What are you doing to me, Remi?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
He heaves out a breath, his thumb stroking over the front of my throat in a way I’m not even sure he’s conscious of. “I don’t want to go.”
“So stay,” I offer. “For dinner at least.”
Benson nods slowly, his hand falling away. We work in relative silence to finish doling out evening meals to the petting-farm animals, even as every inch of me is attuned to Benson beside me. The way he can’t stop glancing in my direction tells me he’s in a similar predicament.
By the time we get inside the ranch house, the dinner hour is finishing.
If anything, Benson looks relieved that it’s just the two of us grabbing plates.
We sit at the now-empty table, my mom shooting me a knowing smile as she collects dirty dishes to be cleaned.
Jackson passes in and out, as well, helping with the nightly task.
Benson is quiet as we eat, whatever boldness that came over him earlier settled back into his skin.
I don’t mind. Not the quiet Benson. The one desperately trying to find himself under all the noise. Not the bold Benson who grabbed me by the throat just to prove to us both that he’s accepting of his desires. Even the ones that scare him because they’re new and unknown.
I like all the facets of this man. I want to know him. The real Benson Harper. The one who lives beneath the forced smile he gave Zoey earlier in the barn.
And he’s letting me. With each passing day, each passing minute, I earn another glimpse.
It’s enough to have me smiling through dessert.
“It’s not too much,” Benson says. They’re his first words since we sat down twenty minutes ago.
I finish my sip of water before asking, “What’s that?”
He motions between us. ‘This. Here.’ Adding voice, he says, “I don’t want to turn it off during business hours, Remi. Being here with you is the best I’ve felt in…”
He trails off, letting out a slow breath. It’s another minute before he goes on, his accompanying movements hesitant in a way that betrays his nerves.
“I can’t say I’d feel all that comfortable doing…what we did in front of an audience. That’s not me. But I’m done acting like I’m someone else. So please don’t ask me to pretend I’m indifferent about you because nothing is further from the truth.”
I thunk my forehead down onto my arm, groaning long and low. Benson’s tone is worried as he says my name, so I reach over, giving whatever piece of him I can find a reassuring squeeze. His thigh, apparently, which doesn’t exactly help my racing heart.
Forcing myself upwards, I meet concerned eyes. “I’ve known you my whole life. Thirty years, Ben. And I’m only just learning who you are.”
He swallows roughly. “If it helps, I’m in the same boat.”
I huff a small laugh before turning serious. My chest is tight as I let my gaze run over Benson’s features, so familiar yet new. It’s not hard to be forthright with him. “We can’t keep this from Auggie.”
It’s Benson’s turn to groan, his face pinching along with the low rumble. “How about a politely worded email? I’ll stay here until after he’s had time to read it and cool down.”
I wish I could say his concern is unwarranted, but Auggie isn’t going to like this. Not right away. “He’ll come around,” I assure Benson. “You know he will. He loves you.”
“I think he loves you more.”
I shake my head. “And I think the two of you are capable of having a good relationship. But you both need to try.”
Benson lets out a chest-dropping exhale. “This weekend. We’re…hanging out.”
“Yeah? That’s great.”
“This will ruin it.”
“Not necessarily. Have a little faith.”
“In what?” Benson asks, looking so perplexed I chuckle.
“In me. And your brother.”
He nods, picking up his plate. With a mighty exhale of my own, I follow him into the kitchen. We wash our dishes before I walk with Benson to the door, his signed, ‘See you tomorrow,’ so fluid and natural it brings a smile to my face.
‘Tomorrow,’ I agree. ‘Say hi to Mouse for me.’
Benson inclines his head, his eyes dropping to my lips before he steps onto the porch, a tiny head shake accompanying his trek down the stairs.
I can practically see him berating himself for not kissing me when it was clearly on his mind, and now he’s likely running over the moment in his head, wondering if I noticed, too.
It’s enough to have me calling his name. “Ben.”
He stops, turning to look up at me. I lift my hands, in case my mother is listening from next door. I wouldn’t put it past her.
‘It’s not a requirement, but I won’t ever say no to a kiss goodbye.’
His shoulders drop at that, and he walks back up the stairs. It’s small and chaste, the kiss he presses to my lips, but there’s a smile hiding behind his beard as he turns to leave a second time.
I force myself to close the door instead of watching every step of his departure.
As I’m heading upstairs, my CI beeps to let me know the battery is almost depleted.
I swipe it off my head, popping out the battery as I walk into my room.
I don’t bother with a replacement this late in the day, just slide the battery into the charger on my nightstand and put my processor inside its overnight dehumidifier.
I imagine the sensation of sinking into silence is what some folks feel when they change out of their work clothes for the day. It’s comfort. Coming home.
On my way to the shower, I peek into Colton’s darkened room.
At what point is my brother going to admit he’s living with Noah King?
He’s there almost every single night. And with Lawson moved out again and Ash living at Jackson’s less than a quarter mile from here, that leaves this big house empty apart from me.
I’ve never minded the silence. But more and more as the years have passed, I’ve wondered if finding someone to share it with is actually attainable for me.
With Benson’s kiss still lingering on my lips, that future feels like more of a possibility than ever.