Chapter 14
Mylie hadn’t been inside the house in years, not since before Ben left. It was true, Granny had gone over a time or two to
help visitors, but she’d always avoided it. Looking at the outside had been hard enough.
“It looks the same,” Mylie said.
“Pretty much,” Ben replied. He rummaged in the fridge and handed her a beer. “I still need to go to the grocery store. I just
ran up to the gas station and bought beer and some beef jerky, but I still don’t have any coffee.”
“You and your coffee,” Mylie muttered. She twisted the cap off the bottle. “I still remember thinking it was weird that a
sixth-grader drank coffee.”
“It wasn’t as weird in Chicago,” Ben said.
“I don’t believe that,” Mylie replied. “You can’t just say that things are normal in Chicago to make yourself look normal.”
“So now I’m not normal?”
Mylie huffed a laugh. “You’ve never been normal.”
Ben took a swig from his own beer and then said, “I really did miss you. I was telling the truth about that.”
“You stopped calling,” Mylie said. “You never emailed. You never reached out on social media. I thought... I thought you’d
forgotten about me.”
“ We stopped calling each other,” Ben replied. “ You never emailed. And I don’t have social media.”
“Everybody has social media,” Mylie countered.
“Did you ever look for me?” Ben asked.
Mylie looked away from him. “Maybe.”
“Then you know that I didn’t have any profiles,” he said. “I tried once, back in college. But I got overwhelmed with the constant
alerts. It was too much.”
“You still could have called,” Mylie said. “My number hasn’t changed.”
“Neither has mine,” Ben replied.
They stared at each other for a long moment. Mylie knew they were both right. Neither of them had made an effort to stay in
touch, but she wanted so badly to blame him for all of it, for everything, the way she’d been doing for the last ten years.
After all, he’d been the one to leave, not her.
“I know you’re trying to think of a way to blame me for it all,” Ben said when Mylie didn’t reply. “And if it helps, I blame
myself, too.”
“That helps a little,” Mylie admitted. She eased the death grip she had on the bottle.
“I’m sorry,” he said, taking a step closer to her. “I was eighteen. I was stupid. And after a while, I thought you probably
didn’t want to hear from me anymore.”
“Maybe I didn’t,” Mylie said, more to herself than to Ben.
Ben reached up to brush a piece of hair that had come loose from her ponytail away from her face. “I’m sorry,” he said again.
Mylie looked up at the man in front of her. The man who’d once been a boy and who had changed in so many ways... and in
others, not at all. His eyes were the same behind those glasses. He was still her Ben.
“I’m sorry, too,” she said finally.
Ben didn’t remove his hand from her face, and she could feel her heart pounding in her chest. After all this time, all these
years, here he was, finally, right in front of her. She’d imagined this scenario over and over again.
Finally, Ben stepped away from her, clearing his throat. “Well,” he said. “I guess now that we’re not mad at each other anymore,
I can cross that off my list.”
“You have a list?” Mylie asked, the pressure in her chest finally releasing. She could breathe.
“Of course,” Ben replied. “Have you ever known me not to keep a list?”
Mylie laughed. “I should go,” she said. “Granny will be wondering where the hell I went, and I promised the girls we’d watch
a movie.”
“Okay.” Ben tried and failed to hide the tiniest hint of disappointment in his eyes. “Enjoy your night.”
“What about you? What are you going to do?” Mylie asked. “Oh, wait. Let me guess. You’re going to go upstairs, read a book,
and it’s lights out at promptly eleven p.m.”
Ben tilted his head back and laughed. “So, you remember?”
“All those parties you refused to attend?” Mylie asked. “Yes.”
“Maybe things have changed,” Ben replied.
Mylie grinned. “Some things never change.”
“You’d be surprised,” Ben said.
“Oh, really?”
Ben placed one hand against the doorframe and leaned down to Mylie’s level, so close that she could feel the way his breath
hitched in his chest, the way his jaw tightened as he replied, “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Mylie.”
Mylie watched his jaw tick just a bit, watched his hands clench and unclench, like he was on the brink of saying more... or doing more. He was still Ben, after all, controlled and collected, but something told her that if she’d gotten just an inch closer to him, parted her lips just a little, offered herself in any way to him, he might shatter.
He pulled himself away from her and stuck his hands inside his pockets, his easy smile returning to his face so quickly, that
Mylie wondered if she’d imagined the whole thing.
“I’ll see you later, Mylie,” Ben said. “Good night.”
Later that night, Mylie looked out her bedroom window and wondered if Ben really was reading a book. It was getting close
to eleven p.m. He’d be going to sleep soon if her theory held true. She figured it had to be hard, being back here all alone.
She’d always had family around her, even if her parents hadn’t been there for her. First it was Granny, and then Cassie came
along, and Mylie couldn’t imagine her life without them.
She wondered idly what Ben thought about her still living at home with her family. It wasn’t something she’d ever really considered—moving
out on her own. Granny and Cassie needed her, and she knew she needed them. Mylie knew most people moved out of their childhood
homes and started a life on their own, but she’d always known that she wanted to live with Granny, at least until Cassie graduated
from high school. She’d always wanted to take care of her little sister. At first, Granny tried to remind Mylie that Cassie
wasn’t her responsibility. She didn’t have to stay there. She could go out and see the world if she wanted, but Mylie had
ignored her, and eventually, Granny stopped talking about it.
Mylie was about to go to bed when she saw a light in a window at Ben’s house. It wasn’t his old room, which was directly across
from hers, but she could still see it. It was flashing on and off, on and off.
She turned and rummaged around in her desk drawer until she found a flashlight. She hadn’t used it in forever, but it still worked. This had been their way of saying good night to each other for years, and Mylie couldn’t believe Ben remembered.
She turned the flashlight on and pointed it out her window. On and off. On and off.
There were a few more flashes from Ben’s side, and then it went dark. Mylie stood there for a while longer, smiling, remembering,
and thankful that for now at least, her Ben was back.