That One Night (That One Series Book 1) (18 page)

Ben seems like a man on a mission, his steps fast and steady, not faltering as he approaches me, but when I look up into his face, I see relief before it’s quickly replaced by anger.

“You can’t just run off like that, Frankie. We were worried sick.” He sounds strained, like every word is taking a huge effort.

“Funny coming from you,” I retort, venom lacing my voice despite my attempts to hold onto the balance I just worked so hard to regain.

Looking away from him, I wait for a comeback, some kind of excuse. But instead all I hear is a sigh when he sits down next to me. He’s so close I can feel the warmth of his body, yet he’s making sure to keep enough distance. It’s obvious I’m not in a cuddly mood.

“How did you find me?” I focus my eyes onto the trees in the distance, not looking his way.

“After we called Vince and you weren’t there, Dean suggested this place. He said you like to come here to think, to recharge your batteries. It’s a maze; I’ve been wandering around for the past 20 minutes trying to find this spot.”

Making a mental note to kick Dean in the shin, I turn to Ben.

“Maybe I didn’t want to be found,” I pause, letting my words sink in before I continue.

“Do you have an idea what it felt like? Waking up alone?” I watch him clench his jaw, his lips in a thin line. “I wasn’t even worth an explanation. It tore my fucking heart apart, Ben. And just when I was starting to let you in, you did it again.” I take a shaky breath, praying I can stop the tears from falling. I cried enough. He doesn’t say anything and his silence speaks louder than words.

“I’m done, Ben. I’m done talking. I’m done listening. I’m done caring. I can’t fall apart again. Archer needs me.”

Another long moment of silence follows. It feels like neither of us is going to speak. I guess Ben expected me to be a bit more forthcoming, but he can look for that indefinitely. I’m exhausted. I don’t have it in me to fight. I don’t even want to feel. I avert my eyes, looking at the trees in the distance.

“It was my dad.” Ben’s strangled voice breaks the silence. His statement baffles me and despite my plans to not give in, to not listen to him, I can’t stop myself.

“What? What are you talking about now, Ben?”

“I was on the phone with my father.”

Risking a glimpse at Ben’s face, he seems broken. A part of me wants to reach out and hug him. It’s the stupid part that seems to be a glutton for punishment. Only this time, I stop myself. I just told him I’m done caring and for once, I plan to see it through.

“Oh, come on, Ben. This is ridiculous. Why would you be hiding conversations with your father from me? And why would you have to tell me about him? I know him. I grew up next door, remember? This is complete bullshit.” The anger flares up in me again with him trying such a bullshit excuse. I’m about to get up, when his hand comes around my wrist, pulling me back down.

His voice is quiet, barely above a whisper.

“Not Ron. My real dad.” He’s silent and I let the information sink in. I have no idea what he’s talking about.

“Ben, what do you mean?” I turn my body towards him, my eyes scanning his face, taking in the features that show pain and regret.

“Ron is not my real father. It was all a lie. That’s why I left—I wanted to know who my father is.”

Confusion and shock at his revelation wash over me, still unsure why he would hide this. But there is no doubt in my mind that he is telling the truth. It’s written all over his face.

Lifting my hand, I put it gently on his arm, not knowing what to say.

“Let’s go somewhere and talk. You’re freezing.” He stands up, waiting for me to follow.

Only then do I notice that I’m shivering and shaking from the cold.

The way back to the car is quiet. We don’t speak, each of us lost in our own thoughts. I’ve no idea what the whole story is, but things are starting to fall into place. Images of when I found him on my parents’ couch come to my mind, the words he said haunting me now.

“
Everything is a fucking lie. All my life, everyone in it—all just a lie.”

Him refusing to talk to his mother. It all comes together now. I still don’t understand why he wouldn’t tell me about his real father. I’m just as confused as before, but the anger and hurt have lessened, making it possible for me to let him talk. Today can’t get any worse anyway. I might at least hear what he has to say. When we get to the parking lot, I see he has taken Dean’s car. A wave of guilt washes over me for just taking off and making everyone worry.

“I’ll quickly let Dean know I’m okay.”

“Already done that when I pulled up here and saw your car. Come on, let’s take Dean’s car and we’ll pick yours up later.” I only nod my head, unsure what to say or ask. The wind has been totally taken out of my sails with his confession and I’m drowning in a feeling of confusion.

When we get in the car, Ben turns on the heater right away and I appreciate the gesture. It’s really not the weather to be sitting outside for what was nearly an hour according to the clock on the dashboard. Ben runs his fingers through his hair, before rubbing his face with his hands as if to collect his thoughts or hold on to his sanity. I’m not sure what it is, but it makes me ache for him, despite the wariness I still feel.

“I shouldn’t have taken off like this,” I say, making the first step.

He laughs, but it’s not a happy laugh. It’s full of sadness.

“Me neither, Frankie.” Ben takes a deep shaky breath. “I’m sorry how I left. I’m sorry that I hurt you. I was a mess. My world felt like it was crumbling. The man I considered my father being nothing more than a liar. And my mom not being any better.” He shakes his head, as if trying to shake off the memory and I just react on instinct. I climb over the gears into his lap, hugging him close to me, my head in the crook of his neck. He’s still for a moment, before he hugs me back. Holding me in his arms, he doesn’t let go as he continues to tell me what happened.

“I came home from my classes that day to find a letter in the mailbox. It was from a lawyer in Tucson and addressed to me. I had no fucking clue what it was about, not a clue it would make the life I knew fall apart.” He takes another breath, reclining back against the seat and when I look up I see him leaning his head against the headrest, his eyes closed. His face is a mask of anguish, brought on by the memories he’s sharing with me.

“The letter informed me that I had inherited a house in Tucson from my grandmother—a woman I never heard of. I had no idea what it meant, only knew it wasn’t anything good. My mom came home a few hours later and found me in the kitchen, where I was still sitting at the table, the letter clutched in my hand. Fuck, Frankie, I hoped she would tell me it’s all a mistake, and has nothing to do with me. But when I confronted her, she told me she left my father when I was still a baby, divorcing him. She met and married Ron shortly after and he adopted me.” His hold on me tightens, my jacket clenched in his fists at my back. I rest my head on his shoulder again, the need to be close to him overwhelming me.

“When I asked her why she never told me, she said my father was a bad man and she didn’t want me exposed to him. I took off. I couldn’t stand being under the same roof as her for a minute longer. So I went to your parents’ place. That’s when you found me on their couch. I didn’t think anyone would be there, didn’t expect you to show up.”

The memory of the night hits me again, and I make a strangled sound, trying to keep the feelings at bay. He must notice the involuntary tension in my body since he removes his hand from my back, bringing it to my chin and tilting my head up, looking in my eyes.

“That night, Frankie, it meant everything to me. It wasn’t just a fuck. But I wasn’t in a good place. I didn’t know who I was. I was confused and didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t. The life I knew turned out to be a lie. The people I trusted the most had betrayed me from the beginning. I was angry and there was no way I could’ve let anyone close—not even you. I wouldn’t have been any good to be around and I needed to meet my dad.”

Hearing him say that night meant something to him feels like someone has loosened the shackles around my heart. I had questioned it all along. I questioned myself and wondered if I was just blinded by my feelings for him. Questioned if it was just a way for him to escape his feelings. Knowing that wasn’t the case is like someone pulling me out of the water, allowing me to finally take a breath.

“Why didn’t you say something? You just left a note, Ben.” I don’t manage to cover up the hurt I felt, the rejection, and humiliation of that morning.

“It’s a shit excuse, I know. But I didn’t know what to say. I barely held it together as it was. I couldn’t deal with your feelings. It was hard enough to leave. But I had to leave. I had to figure my shit out.”

Sometime during his last statement, I lost my battle with the tears that needed an outlet.

“And did you?” I sob quietly into his neck.

A jagged breath escapes his lips, before he gently brushes them over the top of my head.

“As good as I could, I suppose. I went to Tucson, first seeing the lawyer. He gave me the papers and then he told me where to find my dad. It took me nearly two months to gather the courage to go see him. I was a mess. I basically lived on whiskey. When I didn’t feel angry about my situation, I felt guilty for leaving you the way I did.”

“So you met your dad? What happened? Why didn’t you just tell me about him?” I don’t understand why he would keep his dad a secret. It doesn’t make any sense.

His arms tighten around me again and I can feel his heart beating wildly in his chest. I try to encourage him, taking one of his hands in mine and interlacing our fingers. He’s quiet for so long that I’m not sure he’ll say anything at all. I look up at him and see that his eyes are glossy with unshed tears.

“When my mom said he was not a good man—what she forgot to mention was that it’s her fault. He lost his mind because of her. I know this sounds dramatic, but he really did. He found out she had an affair with Ron, she left him and took me with her, making up some story to terminate his parental rights.” His voice sounds strangled and his body tenses, all muscles straining against the emotions he’s battling with. I look up and into his eyes, but he’s avoiding eye contact, looking anywhere but at me.

“He....he became so depressed that he never recovered. He’s been in a mental health institution most of the time since. He’s a shell of man, Frankie. I hate my mom for what she did to him, but even then I know his reaction isn’t normal. It’s fucking scary. I’m his son, what if I end up like him? That’s why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t know how you would react. I didn’t know if you’d still want me.” The vulnerability in his voice and in his words break my heart. I grasp his chin in my hand, turning his face to look at me.

“Ben, of course I’d still want you. Your dad isn’t you. Your family isn’t you. This doesn’t define you.”

My words are honest, but at the same time I have hard time wrapping my head around the things he just told me. I can’t picture his mom cheating or taking him away from his father, breaking the law in the process. That isn’t like her. That woman couldn’t hurt a fly. But it doesn’t feel like the right moment to question this. Even I can sense when it’s better to keep my mouth shut. From the little bit he said about his biological father, it seems like he believes him, and I wasn’t there. I never met the man. Maybe it’s all true and his mom is just a real good actress or a cold-hearted bitch.

“Did you talk to your mom about it?”

“No, she had twenty-five years to tell me. She didn’t. She lied to me all my life.” The conviction in his voice is unwavering, the anger at his mom deeply engrained in his soul. “Now, I have nothing to say to her. My dad told me everything I need to know. He’s a broken man—all because of her. If not for my grandmother, I would have never even known.”

“I’m sorry, Ben. Sorry this all happened.” I pull back to be able to really look at him.

His eyes finally meet mine, and he’s here in the moment, not miles and months away.

“I was worried you wouldn’t want to be around me or have me around Archer if you knew my dad was crazy. And I understand if you want me out of your life. Out of Archer’s life.” His voice wavers, betraying how hard it is for him to make himself open to rejection.

“Ben,” I say, placing my hands on his face, gently stroking his cheek, “I’m a psychology major. I don’t look down on people because of a mental illness. I don’t look down on your father. I can’t begin to understand how difficult it has to be for him. But no matter what your father’s issues are, they aren’t yours.”

He doesn’t seem to believe me, doubt written all over his handsome features. So I take the plunge and risk letting him in. “I want you here, Ben. I need you. And so does Archer. I’ve wanted you for years, and it hasn’t stopped.”

Without thinking about it, I pull his head closer as I press my lips to his, letting them linger for a moment, before I start kissing him. I don’t do it gently or slowly, but with passion and abandon, conveying all my feelings in this one kiss. It doesn’t take more than a moment for him to open his lips and to slip his tongue in my mouth. When I gently bite his lip, he groans, the vibration sending little electric shocks through me. I lean into him, melting into his strong body. Savoring every taste, every touch of our lips, arching into him when his hand starts to lazily stroke my back. I can feel the desire building and so can he, as evidenced by the hard-on I can feel pushing against my core.