All of You

by Christina Lee

  rearranging and clicking into place. My heart burst through my chest and landed at Bennett’s feet—

  asking, pleading, begging him to smooth out her creases, sooth all her wounded parts, mend her

  shattered center.

  I couldn’t even talk any sense into her.

  “Why aren’t you saying anything?” he whispered. He gave me a nervous sidelong glance.

  “Because I have no words,” I said, still in awe of him. “What you just said . . . it . . . it left me . . .

  breathless.” We didn’t speak for long minutes afterward, both of us lost in our own thoughts. I waited for my

  heart to get her butt home, back inside my chest, so I could breathe freely again.

  Bennett was the first to speak. “Why the word survive?”

  Bennett had shared some deep beliefs with me. It was only fair that I opened myself up, too. At

  least a little. I’ll admit he was way braver than me.

  “Because I survived my mother. Growing up with her and all her . . . men. Her shit. Her

  selfishness.” Her betrayal, I left out. I huffed out a breath. “And I hope against hope that I can help my

  baby brother survive that woman, too.”

  He grabbed my hand and tugged it toward him, squeezed it. “Thank you, Avery, for sharing that.” Like he knew how tough it was to open myself up to him. Damn, he got me sometimes.

  Chapter Twelve

  “My family lives just off this exit,” Bennett said, pointing east. “You ready for this?’

  “I’m ready,” I said, fisting my seatbelt strap.

  Meeting Bennett’s family? What the hell was I thinking?

  He pulled into the first development off the exit and then down the second side street. The house

  was a ranch with peeling paint and half-dead flowers in the garden. But it had a sweet white picket fence

  that surrounded the property, and the lawn looked freshly cut.

  We waited at the door as he knocked. A lady who was unmistakably his mother swung open the

  door. “Why didn’t you use your key, honey?”

  She looked different from that picture I had seen in his apartment. Her hair was a mess, her blouse

  wrinkled, and a cigarette hung from her lips, like she needed a long drag to help soothe her nerves.

  Hell if she didn’t remind me of my own mother.

  “Mom, this is Avery,” Bennett said as we stepped inside.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said, my palms sweaty and slick. I wondered what this family would think of

  me and my friendship with Bennett. I was glad I at least put on mascara and ran a brush through my

  wavy hair this morning. Not that I should want to look presentable for them. Or pretty.

  “Benny!” the twins sang in unison, and came bounding down the stairs. They were identical and

  had long brown hair, and I wondered how anyone told them apart.

  “Benny?” I mouthed to him. He narrowed his eyes at me.

  “Lex, Soph,” he said picking each girl up and twirling her around. “Where’s Taylor?”

  “Taylor,” his mother bellowed around her cigarette. “Get your ass down here!” “Coming.” Taylor appeared at the top of the stairs with a baby in her arms. He was maybe a year

  old, and I remembered Bennett saying something about her getting pregnant last year. I just never

  considered her raising the baby. I don’t know why.

  When she landed on the bottom step, she said, “Hey.”

  She was stunning. She could have been Bennett’s twin, with her dark curly locks and perfect

  complexion. Her eyes were blue, like his mother’s. The twins had hazel eyes.

  “Everybody, this is my friend Avery,” Bennett announced. Right on cue the baby started wailing.

  Bennett took his nephew from Taylor’s arms and circled the room. “Toby, what’s wrong, buddy?”

  Toby stopped crying and stared at Bennett. Bennett made some crazy face and Toby cracked up.

  “Again,” Toby said. Bennett made the same face over and over, until Toby was laughing so hard no

  sound came out of his mouth. It was completely endearing.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” Mrs. Reynolds asked. She ran her cigarette butt under the

  faucet before pitching it in the garbage can under the sink.

  Well, at least she knew about fire safety. But all of that secondhand smoke around these kids. Who

  was I kidding? I was probably a walking billboard for what a parent’s secondhand smoke did to you.

  “Got anything with caffeine?” I asked.

  Taylor opened the refrigerator and turned to me. “Diet Coke?”

  “Perfect.” I looked around the kitchen. It was a wreck. Baby toys were everywhere, the counters

  were cluttered, and the dishes were piled a mile high. Bennett came around the corner carrying Toby.

  “Haven’t the twins been doing their chores?” Bennett asked, looking at the kitchen sink. “Mom,

  you’ve got to enforce that stuff.”

  She fished another cigarette out of her pack. “They haven’t been listening to me.”

  “Alexis and Sophie, start on the dishes,” Bennett said in an authoritative voice. “Now!”

  I’d never heard him sound like that, and it took me by surprise. The twins dragged themselves to

  the sink, both sets of eyes glaring at him. “Do they listen to Henry?” Bennett mumbled to Taylor.

  “Yeah.” She sighed. “When he’s here.”

  “He’s been working a lot of hours,” his mother interjected. “Don’t start, Bennett. You know he’s a

  good man.”

  “Just making sure, Momma.” Bennett narrowed his eyes at Taylor in a silent form of conversation

  and she just shrugged. For the first time, I noticed the bags under her eyes, and I wondered if it was

  because of staying up late with the baby and then getting herself to school every morning.

  I thought about how tough being a teen mom would be, and Bennett’s vow about not raising his

  own child so young suddenly rang true. I was starting to get it. Really get it.

  “How do you and Bennett know each other?” Mrs. Reynolds asked.

  “We live in the same building and attend the same university,” I said. I noticed Taylor had taken the

  baby back from her brother and was now feeding him a bottle.

  “She’s an LPN—which is a kind of nurse,” Bennett said, placing his hand on the small of my back.

  “She’s working on her RN degree.”

  His warm fingers made me flinch, but I also liked his hand there; it felt safe and protective, and I

  wasn’t sure I wanted him to remove it.

  His gesture didn’t go unnoticed by his mother or sister, either.

  “I’m interested in health care,” Taylor said, her voice soft, almost humble. “I’m taking an elective

  at my high school.”

  “I’d be happy to talk to you about it, anytime,” I said. “Just say the word.”

  “Cool,” she said, adjusting the bottle for Toby. “Thanks.”

  “How are you doing on homework, guys?” Bennett asked the twins. “You keeping up?”

  “Taylor’s been helping us,” Alexis said, wiping a dish with a soapy sponge.

  Damn, I felt sorry for Taylor. Sounded like she had a huge load. And I couldn’t help wondering if

  Toby’s father was involved in their lives. Somehow I doubted it. Bennett gripped Taylor’s arm. I saw concern in his eyes. The same concern I had for my own

  brother. “You doing okay, Tay?”

  “Hanging in there, Ben,” she said. “Actually, Henry’s helping me with calculus and rides and

  stuff.” Henry. The stepfather. Sounded like he might be involved with these kids.

  I shivered, remembering Tim taking an interest in my school work, and hoped Henry’s inten
tions

  were sincere.

  I noticed these siblings spoke as if their mother weren’t even in the room. And she didn’t seem to

  mind at all. In fact, she had planted herself at the kitchen table with another cigarette and a soda. At least

  I hoped that was what was in her glass. It reminded me so much of home that I wanted to slap her silly

  and tell her to get ahold of her family and her responsibilities.

  Now I understood why Bennett felt so damn accountable for this family.

  “We’ve gotta head back soon, Mom,” Bennett said.

  “I’ll let Henry know you’ll be here next week,” she said. “He’ll be disappointed you didn’t stay. He

  planned on grilling steaks and chicken for dinner.”

  I wondered again about this Henry guy and whether he was a decent man. I felt protective of

  Taylor, like I wanted to invite her to live with me or Bennett. That was just how it felt to have so much

  responsibility put on you as a kid. When you finally broke away, the anxiety still lingered.

  “Tay, you wanted to show me something upstairs?” Bennett asked, and a look passed between them

  that told me they needed to talk about something. “Do you mind?” Bennett asked me. “I’ll be right back

  down.”

  “No problem,” I said, looking at some of the kids’ artwork on the refrigerator. The twins were still

  washing dishes and arguing about some video game.

  I watched Bennett and Taylor make their way upstairs, and then turned to his mother. I wasn’t even

  sure what to say to her. Like with my own mother, I was pretty sure we had nothing in common.

  “He’s smitten with you,” Mrs. Reynolds said out of the blue, puffing out a ring of smoke. “Hope you’re not a heartbreaker.”

  “We’re . . . we’re just friends.”

  “Sure you are.” She took a sip of her drink. “I see how he looks at you.”

  “I’m not really sure what to say to that.”

  “He doesn’t bring any girls around here,” she said and then sighed. “He’s a good boy.”

  “I agree,” I said and sat in the chair across from her. “The best.”

  “Well, he’s needed around here . . . a lot,” she said, her voice wavering. “So he doesn’t have time to

  get all caught up in some girl.”

  What she was really saying was that she continued to lean on her son, instead of relying on herself,

  and that just boiled my blood.

  “I hear you loud and clear,” I said, meeting her hard gaze.

  She puffed her cigarette and turned away. Like she’d said her piece and was done with me.

  “He’s an adult now,” I said, more for Bennett’s sake than for hers. And maybe a little for mine, too.

  “He’s bound to make his own life, live his own dreams.”

  I looked up and saw Bennett paused on the top step of the staircase. His brows were drawn

  together.

  “You starting stuff, Momma?” The question was one he’d probably said to her a thousand times,

  and I realized it wasn’t my place to be here saying anything at all. They had a long history together, and

  even though I thought I understood it, I knew there was plenty more I didn’t.

  “Everything’s cool.” I stood up. “It was nice meeting your family, Bennett. I’ll wait in the car.”

  When Bennett came outside, his face was drawn, his jaw set tight. As he backed out of the

  driveway, he said, “I’m sorry I brought you here.”

  “I’m not.” I placed my hand on his arm and felt him twitch. “Thankfully, Bennett, neither one of us

  is defined by our families.” I stared out the side window and felt him relax beside me.

  We didn’t speak again until we got on the freeway. “What did she say to you?” “She was just being a protective mother,” I said. It was a lie mixed with the truth. A partial truth.

  “Then you’ve got the wrong mother,” he hissed. “The only person she’s protective of is herself.”

  “Maybe,” I said. “Or maybe it’s not so black-and-white all the time. I mean, you turned out pretty

  okay.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “And remember, I’ve got one of those moms back home. So I’m pretty used to selfish.”

  His fingers patted my knee. It was a light and quick tap but I felt it shoot up my arms and lodge in

  my chest.

  “So, what do you think of your new stepdad?” I held my breath as I waited for his answer. I was

  hoping Taylor was safe. But somehow I doubted Bennett would leave her vulnerable if she wasn’t.

  “I think he’s the most decent guy she’s been with,” he said. “The truth is, he’s the twin’s dad—he

  came back after all this time.”

  “Seriously?”

  “He didn’t know about them. He and my mom had a one-night stand, and she never told him she

  got pregnant,” he explained, and again, I understood his logic about not sleeping around. It came to me

  in waves. All of those things added up to Bennett’s self-assigned values and beliefs. “Then they had a

  chance meeting all these years later.”

  “Now that’s crazy pants,” I said. “But I understand crazy.”

  His grin lit me up from the inside.

  “I think Henry will do right by the girls. It’s Taylor I’m worried about.”

  “She’s got to be under a shitload of stress,” I said. “But she also seems smart and responsible.”

  “She is. But taking care of a kid and still finishing high school? It’s a hard life.” He sighed. “I

  offered to take her off my mom’s hands. Told her Taylor could come live with me. But Henry wasn’t

  having it. He told me to finish college and let him be the man of the house for a change.”

  My chest felt lighter hearing that man’s words. “Did you feel relief—hearing that?” He shrugged. “What do you mean?’

  “That someone acknowledged all that you’d done. It would have felt better coming from your own

  mother—but still,” I said. “And now you can concentrate on taking care of yourself.”

  He rushed his fingers through his hair. “I know it’s fucked up, but it’s all I’ve ever known. Besides,

  it’s nice being needed sometimes.”

  “Yep, that’s fucked up all right.” I pushed his shoulder playfully.

  “Hey!” He gave me a sidelong lance, mischief twinkling in his eyes. “I’m a work in progress.”

  “Aren’t we all,” I mumbled.

  “I just pray my mom doesn’t blow it. She’s got a good man right under her nose—she’s never had

  that before,” he said. “So I hope she doesn’t try to screw it up and throw it all away.” His words wedged in my throat like a cold, harsh truth, and I had trouble gulping them down.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Raw Ink was located in a little strip mall on Vine Street. Ella had made the appointment a few days ago

  and begged me to go. I knew she wouldn’t take no for an answer. She honked twice when she picked me

  up and yelled, “Get in the car, bitch!”

  Since our weekend trip, Bennett and I had settled into a new kind of normal. We didn’t spend any

  more planned time together, but if we happened to run into each other in the building, we’d get takeout

  and watch a movie, or Sunday afternoon football. He’d suggest players to start for my fantasy football

  league and I’d argue with his horrible logic and choices.

  All of it was purely platonic. At least from the outside.

  Still, I was dying to know what that weekend meant to him. It had definitely connected us in a

  deeper way—despite the crazy sexual tension between us. We were more honest with each other about
<
br />   our families and friends and jobs—just not about what was going on between us.

  I should have been thankful for that. Nothing had changed on my end. Except for wanting to jump

  his bones every two minutes. And it was messing with my head. But I knew he’d never let sex happen

  between us. And I still respected him for that.

  But the craving to be connected to him in an intimate way had become visceral—I felt it dead

  center in my chest, traveling south to between my legs—almost animalistic, pining over something you

  knew you’d never have.

  The receptionist at the front desk of Raw Ink fit the part, with her purple spiked hair and a feminine

  sleeve of tattoos up the length of her arm. She checked off Ella’s appointment on her calendar and told

  us to have a seat. She walked down the hall to the third door on the left and dipped her head inside. “Bennett, your

  sketch consult is here.”

  I heard his throaty voice next. It slid down my spine like warm fingers. “Tell her I’ll be out in few;

  just finishing up with a client.”

  We sat down on the black leather couch and waited. The walls were decorated with graffiti art and

  alt rock piped through the stereo, loud and menacing. I still had trouble picturing Bennett working here,

  even though he was a few doors down.

  Yet, he was probably in his element here. I could picture his drawings lining these walls.

  A couple minutes later, Bennett walked out with his female client. He had on tight jeans, his black

  Doc Martens boots, with a black, long-sleeved, fitted T-shirt. The girl was fiddling with the bandage on

  the inside of her wrist, and clear slick ointment glistened along the edges.

  “All set,” Bennett said. “Keep it clean and don’t mess with it too much. Follow the instructions on

  the handout. Holly will check you out.”

  “Thanks so much,” she squealed, her eyes roving over him. It occurred to me that Bennett probably

  got lots of numbers slipped to him after well-placed tats. My cheeks inflamed thinking about his hands

  hovering above me and then slipping over my skin as he tattooed my stomach or my lower back.

  One thing was for certain: Not only did Bennett know how to use those magical lips—he knew