“I don’t know,” I hedge. “The year with narwhals was pretty epic.”
“Ooh,” she cries, and I can hear her smack her hand against something. “What about the year with the unicorn that was shitting rainbows—but the rainbow was green and red for Christmas?”
I snort. “Those were good too.”
Sabrina grows quiet on the line. “I’m worried about you, Bennett.”
“Why, Bina? I’m good.”
“You’re such a shitty liar. Seriously, the worst.”
I chuckle. “Nah, it’s just because you’re a reporter. You see through everyone’s bullshit.”
“Damn straight.” She laughs but it sounds forced this time. “I know I tell you all the time, but seriously, Bennett, if you ever need to talk about things I’m here.”
“Off the record?”
She snorts. “Yes, fucktard, off the fucking record. You’re my brother. I would never leak anything you tell me to the media. Don’t you have more faith in me than that?”
“Sorry, Bina,” I sigh. “I’ve been screwed over by a lot of people in this business. It’s hard not to question everyone after a while.”
“But I’m not people,” she counters. “I’m family.”
“True,” I sigh. “We’ll talk later but I better get back to Grace and her mom.”
“Oh, of course,” Sabrina says. “You better call me, douche-canoe. I mean it.”
“I will.”
“Love you, Bennie.”
I chuckle. “Love you too, Bina.”
I hang up and collapse back on the bed. I hate not telling my sister and parents what’s going on with Coach Matthews but the less they know the better. I hope Coach Harrison is figuring something out because I have no fucking clue what to do.
How do you knock down someone who rules the world?
After Lincoln comes home from school and gives Bennett the cold shoulder, Mom decides it would be best to meet my dad and Dean at a restaurant for dinner. I guess she figures they have to act somewhat respectfully in public.
My mom insists that Bennett and I ride in the car with her and Linc, which I’m thankful for. I can tell Bennett’s looking to get me alone so we can talk about last night, but I can’t wrap my head around my thoughts to even talk about it with him. I don’t regret it, that’s for sure, but I’m scared. My feelings for Bennett were already complicated and now it’s worse. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want him, but I know I can’t have him. He doesn’t do girlfriends—at least, not real ones—and I’m sure last night meant nothing to him. How could it have? He’s been with a lot of women and I’m nothing special. I’m just … me.
“You’re quiet,” Mom comments during the drive to the restaurant.
“Lost in my thoughts,” I explain. I glance behind me at Bennett and Lincoln in the back of the Land Rover. Linc glares at Bennett like he’s the most disgusting person he’s ever met. “Linc,” I hiss. “Stop it.”
Linc’s lips curl into a snarl. “But he’s a hockey player.”
Bennett’s snorts. “Dude, I’m sitting right here. Besides, what’s so wrong with hockey players?”
“Football is better,” Lincoln quips. He plays for the high school team, and his whole life revolves around the sport. His love and passion for it is funny since no one in my family is that much into sports. My dad and Dean are pretty much nerds.
Bennett turns in his seat. “Football, huh?” He then launches into a bunch of stats and team names that mean nothing to me. Apparently, Bennett not only knows hockey, he knows football as well. I can see Lincoln warming up to him now, and that makes me happy. This thing between us might not be real but he did get suckered into spending three weeks in Virginia, so I’d hoped the experience wouldn’t be entirely miserable for him.
My mom turns into the lot and I scan the parked cars for my dad’s and Dean’s, but they’re nowhere to be seen. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, relieved that we beat them. This way we can avoid a confrontation in the parking lot.
My mom parks the car and we hop out, heading inside to get a table.
There’s five-minute wait and I sway nervously beside Bennett, scared that my dad’s going to walk in any second and deck him across the face. It’s not a likely scenario. We are in public and my dad isn’t that mean, but I can’t seem to shake the fear. Luckily, the buzzer goes off and we’re taken to a table before they arrive.
My mom points for Bennett and me to take two seats beside each other and then she takes the end seat beside Bennett, while ordering Linc to take the one across from Bennett. I don’t call her on it but I see exactly what she’s doing—and I’m silently grateful for it.
The waiter comes by for our drink order, and since I’m too busy freaking out to pay attention, Bennett orders a water for me.
“Calm down,” he whispers in my ear. “It’ll be fine.”
A few minutes later, I see my dad’s tall form enter the restaurant. He looks tired from a hard day of work and my brother comes in behind him. They’re both tall with angular cheekbones and a sharp gaze. My dad’s brown hair has slight speck of gray in it now and my brother’s brown locks hang unkempt in his green eyes—green the same color as mine, courtesy of our dad.
I hold my breath, waiting for the shit to hit the fan. I startle when I feel Bennett’s hand on mine. He gives it a reassuring squeeze and the look in his eyes alleviates my worry slightly.
“Hey, Princess,” my dad says, coming to kiss my forehead.
I expect Bennett to make a comment on the princess thing but he wisely keeps his mouth shut.
“Hi, Dad. I missed you.” I reach up to hug him. He moves to take his seat and Dean hugs me then. They both smell like oil and grease from the car shop, but I don’t mind it. It’s normal and smells like home. “This is Bennett. Bennett, this is my dad, Trace, and my brother, Dean.”
Dean eyes Bennett over my shoulder. “Hey,” he says, giving Bennett a head nod. It’s polite and more than I expected.
“Hey.” Bennett holds out his hand for Dean to shake. “I’m Bennett.”
“I know,” Dean says coldly. His tone of voice suggests that he’s done some research on Bennett and he’s none too pleased. So much for that politeness.
“Right,” Bennett says awkwardly, letting his hand fall when Dean doesn’t accept it.
Dean takes his seat across from me and picks up the menu. My dad has yet to acknowledge Bennett. It’s like he’s not even here. I can handle the silent treatment over yelling or flat out hostility, though.
I clear my throat. “Dad,” I say firm enough to get his attention. He lowers the menu and his eyes portray the sadness he’s trying to hide. “This is Bennett.” I know he already knows that but it felt rude not to make some sort of official introduction.
He grunts in response and narrows his eyes on Bennett. “So, you’re the dirt bag that dragged my daughter into your media firestorm?”
“Dad,” I hiss. “Stop it.”
Bennett touches his fingers to my knee under the table, silently telling me that he can handle it. I know he can, but the problem is he shouldn’t have to. Yes, this isn’t real between us, but my dad doesn’t know that. He should, at least, treat Bennett with some respect.
“I admit the media isn’t in my favor, but I wouldn’t say I dragged Grace into it.” I don’t miss the twitch of his lips as he tries to hold back laughter because that’s exactly what he did.
“Mmhmm,” my dad hums in disbelief.
This is going nowhere and we don’t even have our food yet. Which tells me this is going to be one long-ass dinner.
Bennett clears his throat and takes a sip of his water. I hadn’t even noticed the waiter bring them and I grab my glass as well, taking a huge sip to quench my suddenly dry throat. I don’t do well with awkward situations.
“Bennett plays hockey,” I say stupidly. Of course, they already know this and we talked about him some when I was here for Thanksgiving but I hate the quiet awkwardness
that has settled in the air. My family is never quiet: with three kids and a dad that’s a bit outlandish, there’s never a dull moment with the Wentworth’s so when things do get quiet it doesn’t feel right. I shake my head. This is stupid. “Dad,” I say calmly. “You don’t have to like Bennett, but you do have to accept him. I’m a big girl now. I’m grown up and on my own and I’ve chosen to have Bennett in my life. He’s not going anywhere anytime soon and this would be a lot easier on me if you’d be nice to him. When you’re rude to him, it’s a slap in the face to me, and that hurts.” I take a deep breath. I’m not normally so forward, but I’m learning that I have a voice and it’s okay to use it.
The table is silent. My brothers, mom, dad, and Bennett all stare at me like I’ve grown three heads.
I’ve always been more like my mom. Quiet, go with the flow, and easily embarrassed, but there are brief moments when I’m not afraid to speak my mind—also something I get from her. When she has something to say, you better listen up.
My dad speaks first. “Okay.”
That’s it. A simple okay but it speaks volumes.
I breathe out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
The silence breaks, and suddenly, the table is full of chatter. My mom and dad are talking about his day at work, Lincoln and Dean talk about cars, and Bennett turns to me with a small crooked smile.
“You’re amazing,” he says with a bit of awe in his voice.
I blush. “I didn’t say much.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t underestimate yourself. You defended me even though you didn’t like speaking against your dad and that … That means a lot. I know how much you love your parents and that you don’t like to go against their wishes, so the fact that you’d defend me? Well, thanks, sweetheart.” He leans over and kisses the side of my head quickly. No one at the table misses the gesture, but none of them say anything. In fact, I see what looks like approval in my dad’s eyes.
The waiter comes for our order and I suddenly feel ravenous.
Idle chat is made through the rest of the dinner and then we head home. It’s getting late, and after spending the day on the road, I excuse myself to shower and go to bed early.
Before college, I never realized what a luxury it was to have my own bathroom. The communal bathroom at school has been one of the hardest things to get used to. I like my privacy, and there’s not much when you’re sharing a bathroom with an entire floor of girls.
I take a longer shower than normal and change into a pair of pajamas. I blow dry my hair—sleeping on wet hair is not fun—and apply my moisturizer. I wonder idly if Bennett’s come up to go to bed but I don’t want to be caught seeking him out. After my rant at dinner, I think it’s best not to rock the boat.
I move some of the pillows off my bed and turn back the covers. It’s funny how in a short time my dorm room has become home to me and this room feels like a stranger’s.
I burrow under the covers, stifling a yawn. There’s a TV in my room but I don’t really feel like watching it.
Instead, I think of last night—how it made me feel. Being with Bennett like that was more than I could’ve dreamed of. Yeah, it hurt, but it was … I don’t know … right. Like suddenly something in the world aligned and everything was as it should be. I know that sounds as stupid as it gets, but it’s the truth, and it scares me. I know Bennett doesn’t see me as anything special—doesn’t want this to be real, but I want it. I know I can’t tell him that. It’s not part of our agreement and he doesn’t do commitment. I don’t want to scare him away to the point that I don’t have him in my life at all. I’d rather have him as a friend than nothing at all.
I wait until I know for sure that everyone’s fallen asleep. It’s after one in the morning when I finally creep into Grace’s bedroom. It’s pitch black, her blinds and curtains closed, and I can barely see to step across the floor. I bump into her dresser and curse when something rattles.
She stirs beneath her covers and I still. I was going to wake her up but I don’t want to scare her.
She rubs her eyes and sits up. “Bennett? Is that you?” she whispers.
I nod, which is stupid since she can’t see me. “Yeah,” I croak.
She reaches up and flicks her light on. She blinks from the sudden flood of light and rubs her eyes. “What are you doing in here?” she asks.
“I wanted to talk to you.” I walk over to her bed and sit down beside her. The bed dips with my added weight and she rolls a bit toward me. I itch to reach out and touch her. Kiss her. Hold her. But I don’t. I’m so confused about what I want and I don’t want to lead her on. It’s better to act indifferent than to make her think …
Think what, Bennett? That this is real? Because it is.
I push my thoughts away. I don’t want to hear them.
“About what?” she asks, trying not to yawn. There are circles under her eyes; I know she’s exhausted and I should let her sleep, but I don’t know when I’ll get a chance to talk to her.
“I wanted to make sure that you were okay after last night.” I swallow thickly as I think back on those moments. Fuck, I want to do it again, but I doubt Grace wants me the same way. “You were quiet today and I was worried you regretted it. I … I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I had done something you weren’t one-hundred percent okay with.” I rub my hands over my face. “I haven’t always been the nice guy, Grace, but that’s how I want you to see me. I want to be good because of you.”
She laughs lightly. “So the bad boy wants the good girl to make him good, and the good girl wants the bad boy to make her bad.” She lifts her fingers and strokes them against my cheek. “We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?”
I lean into her touch. I shouldn’t, but the moment of brief contact feels like a lifeline. “Being bad is overrated,” I tell her.
Her lips quirk up. “So is being good.”
I wet my lips, my eyes flicking over her face. Her hair is a wild mess and her lips are slightly chapped, her cheeks rosy, and her eyes sparkling with amusement. I’ve never felt possessive over a woman before, but this one makes me crazy in ways I never imagined I would feel.
“Maybe there’s a happy medium,” I tell her. “And maybe—” I wrap a piece of her hair around my finger “—we can find it together?”
She’s quiet, and the silence nearly kills me. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she nods. “Together,” she echoes and I smile.
“You never answered me, though—if you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” she assures me. “Last night was … amazing. I don’t regret it. I couldn’t.”
I breathe out an embarrassingly loud sigh of relief. I had worried all day.
“Good,” I say.
Her lips twitch the smallest bit and she says, “I wouldn’t be opposed to it happening again, either. I mean, if you wanted to.”
I chuckle. “Trust me, I wouldn’t mind.” I wink.
She blushes slightly and lays her head down on the pillows. “Are we good now?”
I nod. “We’re good. I’ll stop worrying so much.”
She smiles. “You better get out of here before we get caught.”
I wince. Her dad finding me in here would definitely not score me any points.
I lean over and kiss her. It’s a simple kiss goodnight, but it makes me realize something.
I’m a fucking liar if I think this is still simply an agreement between us—a deal struck to save my reputation.
This … This is so much more.
“Where are we going?” Grace’s giggles trail behind us as I drag her down the street.
We’ve spent the past three days doing good things—baking cookies with her mom, helping at her brother’s school for some holiday recital, and helping her mom plan some shmancy New Year’s Eve party—now it’s time to do something bad.
“I’m not telling.”
Telling her would ruin the fun, and she’d probably chicken out. If I completely blindside her with thi
s, I have a better chance of getting her to agree.
I spot the sign for the shop and begin to slow down.
I had to search the internet before I found a place that I trusted to do this.
“Oh, hell no.” Grace spots the sign and connects the dots. “I’m not getting a tattoo, Bennett.”
I hold on tight to her hand, not letting her get away. “Come on Grace, a tattoo is like the true mark of a rebel. You have to do it.”
“I don’t even know what I’d get.”
“I already have something picked out for you.”
Her mouth drops. “You have to be kidding me. What?”
“I’m not telling. It’s a surprise.”
“Bennett,” she practically shrieks my name, “you can’t expect me to get a tattoo—something permanent—and not know what it is.”
“You trust me, right?”
“Yes,” she answers without a second of thought.
“Then you have nothing to worry about.”
She sizes me up. “Do I get to pick one for you, then?”
I nod. “Absolutely.”
She grins. “Then I’ll do it.”
Something tells me I might be in trouble. I don’t argue with her, though. I open the door and let her go in first.
The shop is dark with purple walls and black curtains. Pictures of tattoos and other drawings line the walls. A man sits behind the counter, both arms covered in ink. I’ve gotten a few tattoos over the years but it’s been a while since I got anything new. I’m mildly afraid of what Grace will pick for me, but I know she’s feeling the same way.
“Hey, man, I’m Bennett,” I say to the guy. “I think we spoke on the phone?”
“Oh, yeah, I’m Drew.” He tips his head at me in acknowledgement. “You guys can come back here.”
He leads us into a room in the back of the studio. I requested a private room since I thought it would make Grace feel more comfortable.
“Who’s going first?” Drew asks.
Grace surprises me by saying, “Me, I guess. I need more time to figure out what you’re going to get,” she tells me, biting her lip and giving away how nervous she is.
The Game That Breaks Us Page 19