CHAPTER 16 BEN
I sigh in total contentment. I needed this after the events of this evening.
Part of me wishes we hadn’t gotten a hotel because I’d really rather be at home right now, but then I remember how my house is filled with people who don’t know that Kaylee and I prefer to share a bed. I guess this will have to do.
We’re lying on a king-sized bed in one of the nicest hotels within a fifteen-minute drive of the bar where my mother’s getting married tomorrow, and that’s all we’re doing. We’re lying there.
We haven’t had sex.
We haven’t gotten naked.
Her vagina still hurts.
The monster is fine—he was safely cocooned in her sweet pussy when we fell off Miller—but my ribs are throbbing. Scrapes and cuts are par for the course when it comes to what I do for a living, but if I’m being honest (and whiney)…my arm is a little sore, too.
I have my good arm around her, and her head rests on my chest, and somehow being right here with her in this way is calming the storm that’s been rocking my brain all night.
Is Jerry just marrying my mother to get to me?
I had that thought the second he sat me at a table with his kid. Before that, even. Something seems off with the guy, but it could just be an overactive imagination after spending more hours around Tatum than I wanted to. Suddenly I’m suspicious of everybody.
But when I hold Kaylee like this, I’m reminded that I don’t have to be scared. I don’t have to run. She loves me—really and truly—and she isn’t like Tatum.
She’s my Kaylee.
She’s kind and good. She deserves more than me, and I’ll stand by that for as long as I live, but I’ll take whatever she’s willing to give.
Except sometimes a little voice in the back of my brain reminds me how not only am I not good enough for her, but she deserves the things she wants.
She shouldn’t have to give up what she wants, and I’m afraid that’s what’s going to spell our eventual end.
If she has to make compromises and give something up, then maybe we’re not right for each other.
Although that’s a hard case to make as I hold her in my arms.
“This is nice,” she says, interrupting the warring thoughts in my mind.
“Yeah,” I murmur.
“Tonight was weird, right?” she asks, her voice quiet.
“Definitely. But that’s my mother for you.”
“Can I say something that might be, uh…a little on the controversial side?” she asks.
“Of course.”
She clears her throat before she blurts out her words. “I feel like Jerry might be trying to get to you through your mom.”
I wish I could express to her how much I appreciate her honesty. Instead of words of gratitude, I simply press a kiss to her temple. “I do, too. But my mom insists she’s in love.”
“How well does she know him?” she asks, shifting a little to lean on her elbow so she’s looking at me.
I lift a shoulder. “I don’t know. I don’t think very well.
They’ve only been together a couple months…
when you were at the store, I talked to her privately and she basically admitted she’s spent her entire life regretting what she did to my dad and she keeps trying to find someone who will give her what he did.
On top of that, she wishes she and I were closer.
I got the impression it’s why she keeps pushing me toward Tatum. ”
Her brows dip. “She doesn’t know what Tatum did to you?”
“I doubt it. How could a mother be friends with someone who did what Tatum did to her son? I told her to ask Tatum if she wanted the real story.”
She lays back down on my chest. “You think she’ll tell the truth?”
I nestle her in a little closer. “Nope. She’s a liar by nature, and I don’t think that’ll change any time soon.”
She yawns and closes her eyes. “It’s been an exhausting day.”
“Yeah,” I murmur.
Shortly after that, her breathing seems to even.
I’m not tired, and my mind is racing. I give her a little time to fall into a deeper sleep, and then I gently extract myself and move out of bed.
I grab a beer from the mini fridge and head out to the balcony, where I sit in a chair, toss my feet up, and drink my beer as I stare out over the land where I grew up.
Coming back here should incite happier memories than it does, but Tatum somehow has the effect of ruining every good thing I have in my life.
I get the feeling my father feels the same way about my mother. I don’t think it was all that hard for him to leave Montana to chase me around the US as I’ve played for three different teams in my career.
He worked a long time as a heavy equipment operator for a construction company out of Great Falls, and he took some good benefits with him upon his early retirement.
He’s only in his mid-fifties now, but when he mentioned retiring early and getting a place where I was playing in San Diego once I signed my first big contract, I paid his rent.
He lives a quiet life, but he seems happy.
And on the other end of the spectrum we have my mother, who does not live a quiet life…and I can’t tell if she’s actually happy or not.
My phone starts ringing, and when I check who it is, I send the call straight to voicemail.
It’s a local number, and it’s not one in my contact list.
It’s one of two, maybe three people—the people who would have access to my number via my mother’s phone.
A text comes through a minute later.
Unknown Number: Pick up your phone. We need to talk.
I don’t bother responding. Simply pretending I didn’t get the text seems easier.
Whoever it is tries again.
Unknown Number: You’re going to want to hear this.
I sigh. I don’t want to hear it, and whoever it is (Tatum is my guess) can ambush me tomorrow. Tonight’s for drinking beer and being quiet about it on the balcony so I don’t wake my girl.
I’m up before her in the morning even though I stayed up late staring out into the darkness on my balcony while I contemplated all of life’s greatest mysteries.
I came up with no solutions…only more questions.
I’m about to attend a wedding where I’m not entirely sure the two people getting married actually should be getting married, and I’m going to do the same thing in one week.
When I think about who I’d want to invite to my wedding…the only person missing is my dad. Jack will be there, and he’s my best friend. I don’t have any siblings, and I have very few friends I trust.
I thought long and hard whether to invite Craig, but even telling one person in this town about what’s going down could mean word will spread. I trust Craig to run my gym, to keep an eye out for my mom…but to keep a secret of this magnitude?
The fewer people who know, the better.
My mom’s wedding doesn’t take place until one o’clock, so I let Kaylee sleep.
And sleep.
And sleep.
She bought some snacks at the store, so I scarf down a couple granola bars to stave off the hunger.
Truth be told…I’m getting a little antsy, a little bored, and I’m ready for breakfast. Plus I’m starting to worry about her. Maybe she hit her head again when we fell off the horse. Maybe I should have her checked out.
I force myself to wait until ten-thirty, and then I wake her.
“Good morning,” I say, and she stares up at me through bleary eyes. “Sleep well?”
“Not long enough,” she says, stretching her arms over her head. She winces a little. “What time is it?”
“Ten-thirty. And you fell asleep a little after nine.”
Her brows dip. “Like...an hour and a half ago?”
I chuckle. “More like thirteen and a half hours ago, Peaches.”
“Whoa. Sorry.”
“You feel okay?” I ask.
She lifts a shoulder. “My stomach is still a little off. It’s been that way a few days now.”
“Since the concussion?” I ask.
She scrunches up her face as she thinks about it. “Yeah, probably.”
“Do you remember hitting your head at all when you fell off the horse yesterday?”
She twists her lips as she thinks back then shakes her head. “No, I don’t think so. My vagina took the brunt of that fall.” She moves around a little. “I think it’s even more sore today than after it happened yesterday.”
I wince for her benefit. “Sorry about that. All part of the healing process.” I sit down beside her and look into her eyes, checking her out a little—and not in the sexual way, but in a way to make sure she’s okay. “I wonder if you have Post-Concussion Syndrome.”
Her brows knit together. “What’s that?”
“Sometimes concussion symptoms last longer than a few days. They usually resolve within three months or so, but if you’re still feeling off, we should probably get you checked out.”
“How long has it been?” she asks.
I think back to when it happened. “Hm, it was close to the end of May, so…four or five weeks? I remember a guy I played with in Chicago had issues after a concussion and the team doctor told him if it was still persisting after six weeks, he should get checked.”
She nods. “Okay. I’ll wait until after our wedding and if it doesn’t go away, I’ll make an appointment.”
Our wedding.
I know she’s been planning it and I know it’s right around the corner—a week from today, in fact—but it still feels a little surreal.
“What else do we need to do for the wedding?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Nothing. It’s all done. It’s in Molly’s hands now.”
“Are you okay with all this?” I ask carefully.
“With all what?”
I lift a shoulder. “We’ve talked a little around the fact that this is real for us both…but I guess I’m wondering if you’d rather hold out to have the wedding of your dreams versus throwing something together in a couple weeks.”
She twists her lips, and I have a feeling I know what she’s going to say. She’ll want to wait. Every woman would, and I don’t blame her. If this is it—her one wedding as we plan a lifetime together—she deserves more.
My chest tightens as the word lifetime passes through my brain, but I ignore it.
Instead of telling me she wants to postpone, though, she shocks the fuck out of me. “Will you be there?”
My brows draw down. “Uh…yeah.”
“Will my family be there?”
I nod.
She shrugs. “Then everyone I want to be there will be, provided we can get my mom there. I found the dress, I adore the venue, we’re having a fancy dinner, someone else is doing all the heavy lifting, and the cake has a layer of cheesecake in the middle.
As long as we can dance the night away under the stars to nineties country beats, it pretty much sounds exactly how I would’ve pictured my dream wedding. ”
“Are you sure you want to waste it on me?” I ask quietly.
Her brows dip. “Excuse me?”
I turn toward the window, suddenly feeling both insecure and vulnerable—another reason I hate being here in Great Falls. It always digs deep at me, bringing raw and real emotions back to the surface.
“Ben, what are you saying?” she asks, her tone measured and quiet, too. She stands from the bed and moves up behind me, but she doesn’t touch me.
“I’m saying I’m not good enough for you. You deserve to have the things you want in your future. You shouldn’t have to give them up for me.”
She sets a hand on my back. “I don’t have to give anything up. I’m choosing to. I’m choosing you.”
I finally turn to face her, and her eyes are full of all this genuine love. I lean down and press a kiss to her lips. “I choose you, too. Always. I will do whatever it takes to do right by you. Always.”
And that is a promise I will keep no matter what.