Chapter 18 Ben
Ben
Soft, bare skin pressed against mine. The slow, steady rise and fall of her breath.
Lila.
My head is heavy on the pillow, my entire body languid, sated in a way I’ve never felt before. I exhale slowly, eyes still closed, my fingers tracing lazy circles against her back. She shifts, murmuring something incoherent, nuzzling into my chest.
I smirk, cracking an eye open. “Tired, sweetheart?”
She makes a sound that’s half a sigh, half a laugh. “Shut up.”
I chuckle, tightening my arm around her, feeling the weight of her against me. Jesus. This is real.
We did it.
After months of waiting, of holding back, of being careful, tonight, she was mine. And it was everything.
She’s still tucked against me, her fingers idly tracing over my ribs, completely at peace and for the first time, so am I.
Until it happens.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
I jolt upright.
The knocking is loud. Insistent.
My heart slams against my ribs as I glance at the clock, 3:27 a.m.
What the hell?
Lila stirs, eyes fluttering open. “What was that?”
BANG. BANG. BANG.
A voice cuts through the night.
“Ben! Open the damn door!”
I freeze.
No.
Not him. Not now.
My jaw clenches, rage crackling through me like a live wire. Drunk, no doubt. Here to give me shit about Lila. Like he has any right.
I shove out of bed, yanking on my jeans so fast I nearly trip. Lila stirs beside me, already reaching for her robe, her wide eyes flickering with worry.
I catch her wrist before she can move. “Stay here.” My voice is low, firm. “It’s my dad. He’s drunk, and I don’t want you anywhere near this.”
Her brows knit together. “Ben—”
“Please, Lila.” I don’t wait for an argument. I don’t need her seeing him like this, slurring, swaying, reeking of booze and bad decisions. I don’t need her witnessing the man who calls himself my father, especially not in this state.
She hesitates, but I don’t. I let go of her and turn away, storming out of the room, my pulse hammering.
The pounding continues, shaking the damn door.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Fucking relentless.
I take the stairs two at a time. If he thinks he can show up here and start spewing his usual bullshit, he’s about to find out exactly how done I am with him.
I rip the door open, my glare burning hot. “What the fuck do you want?”
The words are barely out of my mouth before I register the look on his face.
Not just drunk.
Something else.
His eyes are bloodshot. Not just from booze, but from something raw, something hollow. His chest heaves like he ran here, his hands shaking at his sides.
“You didn’t answer your goddamn phone.” His voice is rough, thick with something unfamiliar. “Me, the hospital, we called a hundred fucking times.”
A sick feeling slams into my gut.
No.
My dad sways, runs a trembling hand over his face. “It’s your mother, Ben.” His voice cracks. “She’s gone.”
The words don’t make sense. They hit, but they don’t sink in. They just hover there, weightless, waiting for my brain to catch up.
I shake my head. “What are you talking about?”
“Car accident.” His throat bobs, and for the first time in my life, my father looks small. Broken. “She…she didn’t make it.”
The world tilts.
No.
No, no, no.
Cold washes over me, creeping in like ice beneath my skin.
“You’re lying.” The words are barely a whisper. A plea.
His face twists with something sharp. “You think I’d fucking lie about this?”
I stagger back, my mind scrambling, searching for something, anything, to make this untrue. To undo it.
Then it hits me.
My phone.
I turned it off.
I shut it down so I could be with Lila, so I wouldn’t have to deal with anything outside of her.
I wasn’t there.
I wasn’t fucking there.
A sharp, strangled breath rips through my chest. My hands curl into fists, nails biting into my palms, but I don’t feel it. I don’t feel anything.
She’s gone.
I missed her last moments.
***
The Closed sign stares back at me from the cafe door.
Locked.
Not a problem.
I rap my knuckles against the glass. Once. Twice.
Inside, Lila stiffens.
She’s behind the counter, shoulders tense, wiping down trays like they personally offended her. Like she didn’t just hear me.
She did.
I knock again, slower this time. More deliberate.
Her head snaps up, and the second her eyes meet mine, something flickers.
Annoyance. Frustration. Maybe something else.
Good. I’d rather have her pissed than indifferent.
She exhales sharply, shaking her head like she’s already regretting whatever choice she’s about to make. Then she moves to the door, flipping the lock with quick, sharp motions before yanking it open just enough to glare at me.
“What part of closed do you not understand?”
I step forward, careful, gentler, but close enough that she has to meet my eyes.
“The part where you think I’d just walk away.”
Her fingers tighten around the door, like she’s bracing herself. Like she’s one second from shutting me out completely.
“I don’t have time for this.” Her voice is clipped, impatient. But beneath it? There’s something else. Something frayed.
I keep my voice steady. “Then make time.”
She exhales sharply, frustration flickering across her face. “Ben—”
“I just need you to listen.” My throat tightens, but I don’t move back. “I won’t stay if you don’t want me to. But I’m not leaving without saying what I came here to say.”
Her jaw clenches. She looks past me, toward the empty street, weighing her options. Calculating.
She doesn’t want this. Doesn’t want me here.
But she also doesn’t tell me to go, and that’s enough.
With a sharp breath, she steps back, pushing the door open just enough to let me through. “Five minutes.”
I step inside.
The lock clicks.
Not a win.
Just a chance.
Don’t fuck this up.
The silence stretches between us, thick and suffocating.
Lila crosses her arms, her posture screaming impatience, but her fingers flex against her sleeve, just once. A flicker of something beneath the anger.
I open my mouth. Nothing comes out.
Fuck.
I rake a hand through my hair, exhaling sharply. “I…I shouldn’t have left like that.”
She lifts a brow. “Which time?”
My jaw tightens.
I take a breath, steadying myself. “I was pissed, Lila. I thought—” I shake my head, trying to piece the words together. “I thought you were just trying to get back at me.”
Her eyes go wide, fury crackling like a live wire. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Before I can react, she shoves me. Hard.
“The fucking irony, Ben.” Another shove. Sharper. “You thought I was trying to get back at you?”
My ribs ache, but not from the impact, from her anger, her pain, all of it crashing into me.
I don’t move. I let her.
Her breath is ragged, her fingers curling into fists.
“You’re the one trying to rip everything away from me.
” She shoves me again. “You’re the one throwing money at our business, our home, trying to make us disappear like we’re just some fucking inconvenience and you have the audacity to stand here and say you thought I was out for revenge? ”
She laughs, bitter and hollow. It’s the worst fucking sound I’ve ever heard.
She shakes her head, a humourless smile twisting her lips. “Oh, come on, spare me the act.”
What?
My stomach twists, my breath stalling in my chest. “Lila, what the fuck are you talking about?” My pulse pounds, confusion slamming into me like a freight train. “Lila, I—”
She doesn’t let me finish.
Her jaw clenches, her breath coming fast and uneven. “That night—” Her voice falters, and she exhales sharply, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes before looking at me again, gaze burning. “Fifteen years ago, it was a mistake.”
A cold, sharp pain rips through my chest. Like a blade, buried deep.
I don’t move. I can’t.
Her voice shakes, but she doesn’t stop. “I should have never—” She swallows, forcing herself to keep going, even as I watch her break. “You would have been with your mum.”
My blood turns ice cold. No.
Her voice catches, and she looks away, jaw clenched like she’s trying to keep herself from breaking. “And now you’re back. Tearing down the last thing I have left. Isn’t that what you wanted, Ben?”
Her eyes snap back to mine, and I see it.
Not just the anger.
Not just the fight.
The guilt.
The weight of fifteen fucking years pressing down on her, twisting everything, making her believe, actually believe, that I’ve been trying to destroy her because of something she had no control over.
She’s been holding onto this guilt this whole time and it wrecks me.
The grief, the guilt, the weight of the us that was ripped apart that night, she never let it go.
Just like I never fucking did.
“Lila,” my voice is hoarse, raw, but she shakes her head.
“No.” She blinks, a tear slipping free, but she doesn’t let it fall. She won’t let herself. “You don’t get to stand here and tell me I’m wrong. You don’t get to tell me you don’t hate me.”
My chest caves.
“I don’t.” I step forward, voice thick. “I never did. I never could.”
She laughs, wrecked and breathless, shaking her head, refusing to believe it. “Then why are you doing this?” Her voice cracks. “Why are you taking this place from me?”
I can’t breathe.
She’s staring at me, demanding answers I don’t fucking have.
I open my mouth. Nothing comes out.
Because I don’t know how to explain it. I don’t know where to fucking start.
My chest tightens, pulse pounding in my ears, heat rising fast and sharp up my throat.
Why?
Because I wasn’t there.
Because I missed my mother’s last breath while Lila, Lila was looking at me like I was her whole goddamn world.
Because I turned off my phone. Because I thought I had time. Because I was seventeen and arrogant and didn’t know what loss looked like until I walked through that door and found out I was too fucking late.
She was gone.
My father, useless, drunk, hollow, looked at me like it was my fault. Like I was supposed to fix everything.