by Katie Cross
Soberly, she nodded. Her shoulders lifted with a big breath, then fell. I glanced up at the counter, then back to her.
“Hey, you know what helps bad days?”
She reached out, fiddling with the edge of my slate jacket. Despite the warm spring night outside, I still couldn't get warm.
“What?” she asked.
“Brownies.”
Her eyes instantly widened. “I love brownies.”
“Me too. Let's have some, what do you think? I brought you some dinner, too. I think you'll like it, but I didn't make it this time.”
“Are you Serafina?”
“I am. Are you Ava?”
She nodded, then reared back a little, suspicion thick in her gaze. “It's not a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, is it?”
I laughed. “No. You'll see.”
She stood up. Gently, I followed. If I held my breath and braced my side, it wasn't too bad, but several moments still passed before I could breathe normally again. If she noticed, she gave no sign.
“Come on.” I motioned her onto a nearby bench, then patted the counter next to me. Phones and paperwork cluttered the other side, but this space was empty. “Climb on that, then sit here.”
“Dad doesn't let me sit up there.”
I winked. “Dad isn't here, is he? I'll keep you safe.”
Probably a false promise. With a broken rib, I wasn't even sure I'd be able to carry a tray anymore. Still, I couldn't deny her the pleasure of a minuscule rebellion on a hard day. Beaming, she obeyed. Five minutes later, I'd sliced her a few pieces of rotisserie chicken with a plastic knife I'd nabbed at the deli counter, broke off a wing, and stuck a spoon in packages of warm mashed potatoes and corn. I bought all of it at the deli inside the grocery store, but she didn't seem to notice the containers with price tags on them.
“Brownies?” she asked hopefully.
“After dinner.”
She stared at the spoons. “Where's a plate?”
“Didn't bring one. You can eat it just like that.”
She blinked. “Really?”
“Really. It won't spread germs. Just you and your dad eating it.”
Once she took a tentative taste of the mashed potatoes, her eyes lit up, and she dug in for more with a happy little squeal.
“So,” I leaned against the counter on my good side. My hands still trembled a little, but comforting Ava had an oddly soothing effect on me. “Want to tell me more about your day? Who had you in tears?”
She shook her head, her mouth full of corn.
“You don't want to talk about it?”
Her eyes widened to an alarming size. She shook her head more urgently now. “Fair,” I said as flashes of Dr. Jekyll Talmage flashed through my mind. “Sometimes it's hard to talk about bad days.”
She nodded again, then turned her attention to testing the corn. Like the potatoes, she dove in with gusto. Just as my phone buzzed with a text, a shuffle came from the far side of the room. A voice followed it.
“Ava? Sorry, I'm off the pho—Oh. Hey.”
My heart raced as Benjamin appeared, carrying a box. His startled expression was a little bit relieved. I forced a smile. Halfway across the room, he slowed. His eyes locked onto something. Maybe it was my posture. Maybe the bruising that had surely intensified on my face. My head throbbed like a wild thing as the adrenalin left me and I might be in a perma-grimace. Suddenly, I felt weak as a rag doll and gripped the cool counter beneath my hand.
Whatever clued him in, he'd taken full notice now.
“Sera?” he murmured quietly. His voice was thick with a question, and I saw a flash of the rage that had been there when he first saw my fat lip. I tilted my head slightly to Ava, then shook my head. He closed the last few steps between us and set the box aside.
His nostrils flared as he regarded me up close, but he reluctantly nodded a quiet assent to not talk about it yet. His gaze lingered on my cheek.
“Ava's had a rough day,” I said, “so I told her that if she had some dinner, she could have brownies.” My voice caught and I felt stupid for the rush of emotion that followed. Carefully, I swallowed it back. “Brownies fix every bad day,” I finished in a small voice.
Ava had another chomp of chicken, her feet swinging on the edge of the counter as she hummed to herself.
If possible, Benjamin's expression hardened even more.
“Of course they do,” he murmured in a silky voice. He didn't take his eyes off of me. “And how was your day?”
“Here.” I reached into my back pocket and handed him a folded pile of papers from the deputy that took Talmage away, as well as the initial receipt from the hotel. “This will answer most of your questions.”
Without question, he shuffled through them. The tension in his neck ebbed slightly. Ava had another dainty bite of potatoes, then stuck the spoon back in the container and brushed her hands off.
“All done!”
Benjamin spoke before I could. “Why don't you take your brownie to the window and eat it?”
“Can I have my tablet?” She clasped her hands together. “Pleeeease?”
His gaze flickered to the clock. “Fine. You haven't had it all today. You have one hour, all right?”
With a squeal, she snatched a brownie from the open box replete with colorful sprinkles and disappeared under the desk. So there was a sanctuary there. Benjamin turned to me then, eyes full of concern. I shuffled to change my position a bit, winced, and his gaze narrowed further.
“What happened?” he asked quietly.
I swallowed and repeated the most minimal details necessary to get the story across, and avoided descriptions of the actual blows that landed. I ended with what I hoped was an easy, “I'm staying at a hotel while we sort all this out. I won't go back there,” I added quickly. “Not even to check on him. My parents will probably come to town now and try to reason with him. Maybe talk with his doctor. But I'm . . . pretty much out of the Talmage picture for the time being.”
“Good.”
He said it with all the inflection of a rock. I swallowed and motioned to the food. “I brought you dinner.”
He frowned. “You still brought this after all that?”
“I promised that I would and Ava needed it,” I said quietly. “Maybe I did too.”
His stark expression shook me. “Yeah,” he finally murmured. “I get that.”
We lapsed into an eternal silence that had all my nerve endings firing. He stared off in space, his jaw tight. Meanwhile, I wandered into the deep quagmire of doubt I should have visited a while ago, perhaps before I came here.
Why was I here? Had this been a mistake? Benjamin saw me as that strange person that kept dropping off food. The waitress who joked with his brother about tattoos. And what did I see him as?
A safe place, maybe?
Was this some sort of subconscious attempt for me to feel safe after all that had happened? I should be laying in bed, watching stupid TV shows on ancient cable while sleeping this awful day off. Instead, I stood here trying to act like I wasn't in pain. Like I didn't want his comfort when I did want it. In fact, I wanted it so desperately tears burned my eyes. So why didn't I call my parents? Why didn't I call Dagny? They would comfort me.
Heck, even watching a funny show would comfort me.
But no one could keep me safe like Benjamin.
The realization came with a hearty sense of shock, maybe embarrassment. We weren't even friends. Hardly acquaintances. But I couldn't help the way I felt, or the utter truth behind it. Benjamin was safety personified. And maybe, on some small level, a sort of friend. If he even had those.
Unfortunately, I couldn't just jump up and haul out of the MMA Center the way that I wanted, because my ribs already ached just from holding back the sobs. So I did the only thing I could to save my pride.
“For heaven’s sake,” I whispered thickly, “can you just say something please? I can't stand this silence.”
He looked at me then, his express
ion so serious. His gaze dropped to my cheek before a gentle hand lifted to my face. His warm palm touched my skin, thumb hovering over my bone where the pulsing had become angry. He touched it softly. I held my breath as tears welled in my eyes.
“I hate this for you,” he whispered.
The tears dropped down my cheeks, sliding over his thumb.
“Me too.”
Free now, I couldn't stop the tears. My face twisted as a sob peeped out, jarring my ribs. His arms tensed and a moment of indecision crossed his face while I wrestled to gain control of the agony. My arm braced against my side uselessly. It only made it worse, and I sat there for a moment, a ball of twisted pain, before I could get a hold of myself. For a breath, I thought he'd pull me into his arms—I so desperately wanted him to—but Ava's voice broke through the room.
“Dad! These brownies are so good.”
Properly reminded of where we were, the strange moment ended and I turned away. This had definitely been a mistake. He owed me nothing and I'd revealed far too much already. Without his intense scrutiny on my face, I was able to quell the sobs and wrest them under control. His hand fell back to his side as I carefully wiped the tears off of my face.
“I'm sorry,” I whispered. “I didn't mean to drop this on you. I just . . . I didn't want you to think I'd forgotten and I didn't want to be in that hotel room alone right then.”
“Are you . . . do you . . .”
The words stuttered in his throat, as if he didn't know what to say, but wanted to say something. Time to save him, then.
“I'm okay.” I gave a watery smile. “I promise. I feel better. Ava was . . . amazing. She helped me feel better just being with her. And thank you for listening. It helps. I'm going to go back to the hotel now.”
And die in a puddle of mortification, thanks, I finished silently.
I stood up too quickly and swayed. With one arm braced on my side, the other reached for the counter. He clamped a hand on my arm immediately.
“I'm good now,” I whispered once it passed.
But his frustrated expression hadn't lessened, and he clearly wasn't fooled. “Let me drive you back to the hotel. Is it the cabins down the road, by the river?”
The thought of climbing into that monstrous SUV sent another whirl of pain through me. No way. Besides, I needed to grab things at the store and that was practically next door. I'd gone through the grocery store with the single-minded focus to get them food and had forgotten a new toothbrush. Packing my stuff had been haphazard while Jayson waited for me and the other officer took Talmage away.
Amber had conveniently disappeared before they even showed up, the skunk.
“No, it's the hotel at the bar.”
“That place?” he cried. “That's so sketchy.”
“It's just until I find a place to rent.”
“Do you feel safe there?”
“Of course,” I snapped.
He didn't like it, obviously. But as his gaze darted to Ava, his weird spot became blatantly apparent. No doubt he needed to get her home and in bed. And who was I to him anyway?
“Thanks.” I forced a more confident, certain tone. The same he'd tried to teach me to take. I should just be grateful he didn't ask for an accounting of my self-defense moves. Which hadn't, at the moment, deterred much of Talmage’s wrath, as Benjamin had mentioned. Not until I got ruthless and hammer punched Talmage's injured shoulder.
Straightening my shoulders sent another twinge through me but I ignored it. “I've got this and appreciate the distraction. See you later?”
“Wait, Sera—”
But I sent another wave, called goodbye to Ava, and disappeared out the door as fast as my legs would carry me. Which, admittedly wasn't fast enough to avoid the silence that remained in my wake.
6
Benjamin
My hand hovered above the hotel door, ready to knock.
Behind me, a dim street light cast shadows on the balcony where I stood. They'd given Serafina a room on the second floor, which kept her above, but not away from, the bar patrons below. Drunken shouts already drifted out on the night air, which was still cool as the sun set.
I ran a hand through my hair, then forced myself to just knock already.
Seconds later, my knuckles wrapped on the door. Too late, it occurred to me that she might be sleeping. Maybe she had just gotten the pain under control and slept and I'd just woken her—
A chain jangled, then the door opened no more than an inch. Bleary eyes looked out at me from a tear-stained face.
“Sera?”
A moment of confusion registered next before she shut the door, slid the chain free, and opened it again.
“Benjamin?”
Below, a shout surfaced from a bar patron that stumbled into the parking lot at my back. Sera reached out, grabbed my arm, and pulled me inside. When she shut the door, she immediately flipped the lock on it. I stepped back to give her some space, and she beckoned me farther inside.
The hotel room wasn't as dingy as I'd expected. All the lights were turned on, and a television ran a black-and-white show in the background so quietly I couldn't hear much of it. Her phone lay on top of the only bed's duvet. Numbers ticked across it, and a woman's voice called out.
“Serafina, honey? You still okay?”
“Yeah, Mom.” Serafina slid past me and grabbed the phone, which was clearly on speakerphone. She carefully sat on the bed. “It's Benjamin, not Talmage.”
“Hi, Benjamin!”
Startled, I managed a broken, “H-hey.”
“I'll let you go, Sera,” she said with the dripping warm tones of a mother. “Call me later?”
“Yeah. Love you, Mom.”
“Love you more.”
The phone clicked away, which left us with an awkward silence. Sera crossed her arms over her chest and gazed up at me. She wore a pair of loose sweats and a black, fitted shirt that went all the way to her wrists.
“Sorry.” I tucked my hands into the front pockets of my jeans. “I won't stay, I just . . .”
The words stuck in my throat. I wasn't good at this. I could win the award for the most nervous tongue on the planet. It didn't make any sense at all that I was here. Sera and I weren't even friends. At least, not by definition. Which, at the moment, I couldn't actually define anyway.
“Where's Ava?” she asked, saving me from myself.
She sniffled, clearly trying to clean her face off without making it obvious. Her left cheek had become more bruised in the hour or so that had passed, and the tears made the skin an angry shade of red. By morning, she'd have something of a black eye.
“I took her to Mav's. She's going to stay the night there.”
“So you could come here?”
I nodded. She softened, then scooted back and motioned to the bed next to her. First, I reached just past her, grabbed a pillow, and tucked it under my left arm, like my arm was a wing.
“Splint your injured side like this when you have to cough or take a deep breath. I've had so many fractured ribs it's not even funny. It helps.”
She blinked. “Oh. Thanks.”
“Fractured ribs can turn into lung issues pretty fast. Injures the lung tissue a little if it's severe enough, so you have to cough. It sucks but . . . pneumonia is worse.”
This time, a hint of a smile found her. “Thanks.”
Maybe it was the coach-like tone I'd used. Or the severely awkward way I just tried to teach her something as a means to get a conversation rolling when I had no idea what I wanted to say.
Or why I was even here.
Following a hunch based on the amusement in her eyes, I asked, “You already knew that, didn't you?”
Her widening grin broke the tense air. “My dad is a doctor. He's already given me the lecture.”
“Oh.”
“Have a seat, Mercedy.”
She reached to the side where a mini-fridge lingered beneath the bedside counter. When she peeled it open a few water bottles waited insid
e. She tossed me one.
“Thanks,” I said.
Underneath all her forced bravado, she looked exhausted. The lid cracked when I twisted it off, and the cool drink helped settle me. But that sober air had returned and I didn't know what to do with it.
She spared me the pain of finding a discussion point.
“I'm surprised you came.”
“Me too.”
My response had been immediate, and I mentally berated myself the moment it slipped. Her amusement curbed my embarrassment.
“Why did you come?”
My brow grew heavy. This is where women and I didn't work well. “I'm not sure,” I admitted, rubbing the back of my neck. “I was worried about you, for one. You didn't look great back there. And . . . I didn't want to . . . I don't know.”
She softened, and for some reason, it eased my tension. When she reached out and put a hand on my arm, something deep inside me twinged. Like a rope being cut free. No one touched me unless they were family, and even then it was awkward. Like I carried an invisible wall around me and everyone sensed it there, so they didn't get too close. Normally, that was fine. I preferred it that way. But lately . . .
For her to make it so simple to touch me made me wonder if I complicated things too much.
“Thanks,” she said, then her hand slipped away. I wanted it back.
“I went into work after I dropped your dinner off,” she said, and I sensed that conversation was a calm place for her. She picked at the edge of the water bottle label with her fingernail. “Bert gave me the rest of the week off. There's no way I can lift a tray right now and Dagny wanted some extra hours. Besides.” She waved a hand toward her left cheek. “People are going to ask and I don't want to deal with it. Although, I could make up a superhero story or something. So . . . I guess that it's good I don't have to work for five days.”
“You don't sound happy about it.”
She frowned. “I'm grateful. It gives me some recovery time and time to find a place to stay.”
A heavy but lingered in the air. She didn't give it words, and it seemed out of character for her to not voice a thought. I looked at her then, really looked at her, and saw the buried fear beneath the layers of bravado. Serafina bubbled over with life and energy and gentle sarcasm, but today she seemed downtrodden. Exhausted. Maybe more than a little frightened.