24. Ben
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
ben
MY IMPRESSIVE GIRL
Declan doesn’t flinch when he sees me come down the stairs in the morning.
That’s new.
He just nods once from where he’s pouring coffee, like my presence doesn’t register as a threat anymore. Like I belong in this kitchen, at least for now.
“You want some?” he asks, lifting the pot.
I blink, then nod. “Yeah. Thanks.”
It’s a small thing. But it loosens something in me I didn’t realize was tight.
Katy is already sitting at the table, barefoot, her pajama top hanging off her shoulder. She’s sorting through the mail, flipping envelopes into two neat piles.
Then she stops.
Her fingers curl slowly around one envelope. She doesn’t open it right away. Just stares at the return address.
“Katy?” My guard is immediately up.
She opens it, and I watch her read.
Her eyes move faster than they should. Then slow. Her mouth parts slightly. One hand comes up to cover it, like she’s trying to keep something inside.
Oh shit.
She pushes the letter away from her, paper trembling between her fingers.
“Katy,” I say again, already moving towards her. “Hey.”
She shakes her head once, sharp and disbelieving, and presses her lips together. Tears spill anyway.
Declan’s mug hits the counter. “What is it?”
She doesn’t answer him. She slides the letter toward me instead.
“Mail. From lawyers,” she says. Her voice sounds far away.
I open it. I don’t skim. I read it carefully. Every sentence feels designed to sound reasonable while doing maximum damage.
Temporarily suspend discretionary distributions.
Protect long-term interests.
Given the circumstances.
My hands curl into fists before I realize it. “They froze your trust.”
Katy nods. Still not looking at me.
Declan steps closer. “Let me see that.”
I hand it to him. He reads faster than I did. Less patient. His jaw hardens with every line.
“Are you kidding me?” he snaps. “This is bullshit. They don’t get to do this to you. Grandpa was the one who set it up!”
“They already did,” Katy says.
I’m still holding the letter. I want to tear it in half. Burn it. Make it disappear.
“I don’t care what they froze,” I say. “I don’t care about any of it. You and the baby are taken care of. I’ll make sure of that.”
Declan straightens.
“I’ll do whatever it takes. You’ll never want for anything, I swear.”
Katy looks up at me then, eyes glassy.
“Ben…”
“I’m serious.”
There’s a beat.
“I know you mean that,” Declan starts.
I turn toward him, jaw tight.
“But she’s not desperate,” he continues. “She has access to my trust.”
“Declan,” Katy snaps.
“I’m not offering strings,” he says quickly. “There will be no lectures, no conditions. I’ll cover your tuition, your rent. Whatever you need.”
“She doesn’t need…” I start.
Declan cuts me a look. “Relax. I’m not competing with you.” His gaze shifts back to Katy. Then to me again. “I just want to make sure there’s a backup plan,” he says evenly. “Since there’s a child involved.”
I go still.
“Especially,” he adds, voice sharpening, “given your history of disappearing.”
The words land exactly where they’re meant to.
“We talked about that.”
“We did,” he agrees. “And we’re cool.” He pauses. “But that doesn’t erase what happened.”
Katy pushes her chair back abruptly. “Stop,” she says.
Her voice cracks. “Please. Both of you.” She stands, pressing a hand to her face.
When she drops it, tears streak down her cheeks.
Pure hurt. “I don’t need either of you acting like this.
” Her voice shakes. “I don’t need to be fought over like I’m fragile. And I don’t need money.”
Declan’s expression softens immediately.
Mine fractures.
“I’m not crying because of the money,” she continues. “I’m crying because my parents are trying to hurt me. On purpose.”
That’s the sentence that breaks the room.
“They kicked me out,” she whispers. “They skipped my baby shower. And now they’re using paperwork to remind me I’m disposable if I don’t behave.”
Declan swears under his breath.
I take a step toward her, then stop myself.
“I might need help with tuition,” she adds, wiping her cheeks. “If I decide to go back to school. So yeah, Declan, I might take you up on that.”
He nods immediately. “Anytime.”
“But otherwise.” She draws a shaky breath. “I’m okay.”
I frown. “What do you mean, you’re okay?”
She hesitates for a second. “I have royalties.”
Declan blinks. “You have what?”
“Royalties,” she repeats. “From my books.”
“Your books?” I ask slowly.
“I published a few.” She shrugs. “Under a pen name.”
I stare at her.
“Holy shit, Katy. The manuscript you read to me when you were sixteen?”
She nods. “I finished it. Then another. Then another.”
“You actually did it.” Awe floods through me. “Katy, you…”
“Yeah.” She smiles, almost shy. “I did.”
Declan scrubs a hand over his face. “So let me get this straight. You’ve been quietly building a writing career, and Ben was the only one who knew?”
Her mouth twists. “He’s always been the one I talk to about stuff...”
Declan exhales slowly. “I’m sorry I never noticed that. I had no idea.”
There’s a pause.
“And the book thing is actually… really impressive,” he says. “I’m proud of you.”
Katy closes her eyes like that alone is something she’s been carrying for years.
“I’m not nothing without the trust, without our parents,” she says. “That’s all I’m trying to say.”
Something in me tightens, shame and awe tangled together.
“Of course you’re not.” My voice softens. “But you have us too.”
She nods. But she doesn’t step closer.
And I know, even as I stand there wanting to pull her into my arms, that something has shifted in her.
Not away from me.
But into herself.
I find Katy curled up on the couch, legs tucked beneath her, a blanket pulled around her shoulders. I sit beside her, one arm stretched around her shoulders on top of the blanket.
She breaks the silence first.
Her voice is soft. “I’m sorry.”
I frown immediately. “For what?”
“For today. For…” She gestures vaguely. “I’m such a mess, Ben.”
I turn fully toward her then. Really look at her.
“Katy.” I shake my head. “Don’t say that. It’s not your fault.”
She exhales, tired. “I just feel like it’s a lot.”
“That’s because it is a lot. And you were… insanely composed, actually.”
She huffs a weak laugh. “Yeah, just on the outside.”
“I’m serious.” My voice lowers, steadies. “I watched you today and thought, Wow. She’s grown so much. You’ve been so strong through all of this,” I say.
I move closer, my knee brushing hers. My hand settles at her waist like it’s always known the way.
“And then,” I add, a slow smile pulling at my mouth, “you casually drop that you’re a published author with royalties like it’s no big deal.”
She groans and hides her face in the blanket. “Please don’t make it a thing.”
“Oh, it’s absolutely a thing,” I grin. “A very hot thing. My very hot girlfriend is a very smart published author.”
She peeks out at me. “Ben.”
“I’m not kidding. It’s doing something to me.”
“I’m your girlfriend?” she whispers.
I smirk. “Of course you are.”
Her cheeks turn pink, but she doesn’t move away. “Oh yeah? Since when?”
A laugh escapes me. “Seriously?”
“Very seriously.”
“Probably since we kissed.”
“Ben.”
“What?” I grin. “I’ve been practically living here, going to doctor’s appointments, assembling baby furniture, talking to your stomach. Come on.”
Despite herself, she laughs. “True. But I don’t think that’s how this works.”
“Fine.” I shift closer. “Then since I realized I didn’t want to be anywhere else. Or with anyone else.”
The smile slips from her face. The teasing is gone now.
“I know things are complicated,” I say quietly. “And I know we still have stuff to figure out. But I’m not figuring it out with anybody else. Will you please be my girlfriend?”
The room goes still.
“You’re really sure about this?” she asks.
“About you?” I brush my thumb across her cheek. “Yeah, Katy. I’m sure.”
Her eyes shine, and a slow smile spreads across her face.
“Okay.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.” She leans closer. “I think I like being your girlfriend.”
“Good. Because I’m pretty attached.”
Her smile widens. “Pretty attached?”
“Hopelessly attached.”
She laughs. “That’s better.”
“How can I not be?” I brush my thumb over her bottom lip, “You’re my impressive girl. A Division 1 cheerleader who happened to also write a fucking book. A few fucking books.” My thumb traces a slow line at her side, absent but intimate. “That’s badass.”
She swallows.
I lean in just enough that she feels my breath against her cheek.
“It’s hot,” I murmur.
“Really?” she asks quietly.
“Yes, really. I’m in awe of you,” I say. I kiss her temple. Then again, lower this time. Slower. Like I’m not in a rush, like I want to remember this.
“Watching you stand on your own like this, with your chin held high through everything,” I murmur against her skin. “Yeah. That’s absolutely my weakness.”
She turns toward me, forehead resting against mine. “Good,” she whispers, and she reaches for my shirt, gathering the fabric in her fist.
“And you’re—”
“Ben. Stop talking.” And she kisses me.
My hand tightens slightly at her waist. When I kiss her back, it’s slow and reverent. “Tell me to stop,” I whisper.
She doesn’t. Thank fuck.
Instead, her fingers slide down my chest.
“Ben.” The way she says my name, steady and sure, destroys whatever restraint I had left.
I stand first, then hold out my hand. She takes it like she already knows where this is going. We barely make it upstairs. I shut and lock her bedroom door behind us, and my mouth finds hers again. The kisses are deeper now. Hungrier.
My hands brace on either side of her head, and she gasps once against my lips, then grabs my shirt and drags me closer. I kiss along her jaw, her neck, lingering just long enough to make her breath hitch.
“I need more,” she breathes.
“You drive me insane,” I groan.
Her head tips back, giving me more access.
“Jesus, Katy,” I say, my voice low and rough. “I want you.”
The world narrows to me and her. I make sure she’s ready, my fingers slow and deliberate.
“Fuck,” I whisper. “Is this all for me?”
She nods, flushed and breathless.
I pull her underwear down in one sharp motion. They tear, but neither of us cares. I shove my pants down just enough, hands shaking with urgency.
I pull back just enough to look at her, my hands steady at her hips, thumbs pressing in like I already know how much she wants this.
“Turn for me,” I say gently.
She doesn’t hesitate. I guide her carefully as she shifts, one hand firm and supportive at her waist, the other bracing her until she’s settled comfortably on her hands and knees.
“Perfect. Just like that,” I murmur.
She exhales, a soft sound that tells me everything.
My hands trace her hips, lingering, grounding her before I lean in, my mouth brushing her shoulder as I whisper, “You look so good like this.”
She presses back into my touch, trusting, open. “Ben,” she breathes.
Yeah. I’m done for.
I stay close, holding her steady as I take her a little harder, the sounds she makes undoing me completely.
“God, Ben. Oh my God.”
When she comes apart beneath me, I follow with a groan, my mouth at her neck, my body pressed close like I can’t get enough.
And later, when the lights are low and the night settles gently around us, I press my lips to her temple and hold her like I’ve already decided something permanent.
Because I have.