“And yesterday,” Nicholas continued. “You just drove away like some asshole. If I hadn’t been there to bring you back, I don’t even want to think about what would have happened to you.”
“Once again, I’m fine.”
“You might not have been. That’s the point. I get that you don’t like someone telling you what to do, and I can work on that. I get that you have a problem with authority, but that’s your problem, not mine. I get that you need your own space, and I can give you that. But I won’t apologize for trying to keep you safe because I fucking love you. I love you, all right?”
“You said you didn’t know what you thought.”
“I don’t even know why I said that.” Nicholas clutched his right hand over his forehead like he was trying to stifle some monstrous headache. “Fuck, I’ve ruined this completely.”
“We both did,” Ben said. “We both wanted this to be something it never could.”
Nicholas bolted to his feet and braced both of his hands on Ben’s shoulders. “We can fix this.”
“How?”
“I don’t know,” Nicholas admitted with blunt candor. “We take it as it comes.”
“Nicholas,” Ben said, stepping out of the sheriff’s reach. “Let me bottom-line this for you: I can’t take you breaking my heart again.”
For a moment, it was like Ben had finally punched Nicholas in his face. The sheriff looked at the sidewalk as if he could no longer stand to meet Ben’s gaze.
“I don’t want to do that either, Ben,” he said, and his voice wavered. “I’m gonna go. I’ll be at the house. I’m not walking away. I’m just gonna give you some space. I would very much like to continue this conversation. Because I do love you, and I will do whatever you need me to do. Even if it’s let you leave.”
Ben managed to nod in response.
“If you would like to talk more, which I hope you do, then you know where I’ll be. Otherwise, I’ll see you here at five.”
Nicholas waited for Ben to nod again before he turned and walked toward the other side of the square.
Ben sank down onto the bench like a heavy bucket dropped down a well. His head ached, and he reached into his coat pocket for the bottle of Advil from earlier, tapped out two tablets, and swallowed them dry. He scrubbed his hands across his face and struggled to process Nicholas’ words.
Time ticked by at what felt like an unnaturally slow speed. When Ben finally checked his watch, he saw that it was after four o’clock. They would need to gather soon.
Uniformed officers milled around in front of the Sheriff’s Department. Ben knew they were probably preparing to enforce the business curfew to any straggling citizens who lingered in their shops.
Ben continued to cradle the bottle of Advil in his hands. The clatter of the tablets against the plastic interior of the container was a suitable distraction each time he shifted on the bench. He finally pocketed the bottle, and his fingertips grazed something cold and flat. Ben pulled Andrew’s Zippo free and stared down at his reflection in its shiny surface.
His resolve clicked into place like the flame that would appear from a roll of the flint wheel. He stood, slid the lighter into one of the back pockets of his jeans, and trod toward Dunmore. Outside the gate in front of Nicholas’ house, Ben paused. Once more, he was struck by how much Andrew would have appreciated the sheriff’s carefully manicured front lawn.
Ben ascended the steps to the porch. He knocked and regarded the blue paint of the front door. Stray speckles of azure marred the white frame of the entrance.
A rustle of movement from the other side of the wood preceded Nicholas’ smile of tentative relief when he opened the door.
“Ben.”
“Hey,” Ben said, shifting from one foot to the next.
“Come in. Please.”
Ben raised an eyebrow at the ‘please’ and crossed the threshold. Nicholas closed the door, and the catch of the latch resounded.
“Am I interrupting?” Ben asked.
“No, not at all,” Nicholas replied. “Do you wanna sit down? I could make you a coffee.”
“I’m good, thanks.” Ben followed Nicholas into the living room and took a seat when Nicholas gestured toward the sofa.
Nicholas perched on the coffee table, but he seemed to reconsider his position and moved to sit at Ben’s right side. It felt less formal than the previous afternoon when Ben had looked over at Nicholas from across his desk in the office at the station, and a modicum of the tension between them broke.
“I’ve got officers stationed around town for tonight while we’re out at the factory. Just in case. None of them know why, but I think it’s better that way.”
“That’s good.”
There was an earnest intent to Nicholas’ countenance, but he glanced away as if worried he would make Ben uncomfortable.
“This is awkward,” Ben said, folding his hands in his lap.
“Just a bit.”
Ben smiled, though it was faint.
“We can fix this, Ben,” Nicholas said, and Ben’s throat tightened at Nicholas’ attempt to offer a smile of his own. “If you want to.”
“I dunno, Nic. I might go up to Boston for a few days if we make it through the night. I’ll come back Wednesday with Kate. Or at least be here for Friday.”
Nicholas’ nod was slow and controlled. “I understand.”
“I think it’d be for the best.”
“Then you should do that.”
“I’ll follow your lead tonight,” Ben said, noting the difficulty Nicholas seemed to have with speaking the words. He was trying, and Ben felt compelled to do the same.
“No,” Nicholas said. “If anything, I should step aside. You’ve been the one to deal with this head-on since you came back. The angel talks to you. He knows you listen. The same can’t be said about me.”
“I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I don’t think you’re anyone’s bitch.”
“But I am,” Nicholas said, scoffing in defeat.
“You’re what this town needs,” Ben said simply.
Nicholas seemed unconvinced by the statement and huffed out a stunted laugh. Ben went quiet again. The silence between them stretched out like the nine miles of blacktop that covered River Bend Road.
“What do you need?” Nicholas asked finally.
The question surprised Ben, and he laced his fingers together to keep himself from fidgeting. “I don’t know, Nic. I guess I have some ideas, but I don’t think you really want to hear them.”
“Tell me. Please.”
“I just need to not feel like this anymore. I need to not feel lonely all the time. I need someone who’ll hold onto me when I want them to and let me go when I ask them to. Someone who lets me be me without making me change my name or wear suits and ties. Someone who doesn’t throw me in a jail cell every time I disagree with him. Someone who doesn’t question my motives when I say ‘I love you,’ especially when I’ve never been able to say those words to anyone else but him.”
“I’m not doing very well,” Nicholas said, his tone muted.
“Neither am I. I’m sure you have your own needs that I’ll probably never live up to. You need someone who respects your authority. Someone who isn’t going to fight you tooth and nail over everything. Someone who sticks around. Someone who has their shit together and who doesn’t make you feel guilty about a decision you made thirteen years ago.”
If melancholy had a color, it would be the same shade as Nicholas’ irises in that moment. “I thought I just needed someone who makes me so happy, I can’t stop smiling for days?”
Ben absorbed the familiar words—his words—and uttered a sad laugh. “I was naïve.”
“You’re here. That makes me happy,” Nicholas said, and he edged closer so that their knees brushed.
“Then why do you look so sad?”
“Because I’ve probably lost you for good when this is over.” Nicholas inhaled and exhaled quick and deep as if to steel his resolve to contin
ue. “But that’s fine. If it’s what you need, if it’s what you want, then it’s fine. I’ll take the sad if it means you’ll be happy.”
“Nic, I don’t want you to be sad.”
The joylessness of Nicholas’ smile prickled at something deep inside Ben’s chest; it felt like some crucial part of himself had been dragged through shards of broken glass.
Ben grabbed for the other man’s hand. Nicholas’ fingers closed around Ben’s in response. The contact was firm and solid for a few brief but important seconds before Nicholas withdrew.
“It’s okay, Ben.”
“It’s not. Everything’s so fucked up. I don’t want to leave,” Ben said, and he stood to pace back and forth in front of the sofa. “I don’t want this to end. Not again. I don’t want to go off and try and be with anyone else. Not after you.”
“I don’t want any of that either.” Nicholas rose to his feet and closed the distance between them. He placed his hands on Ben’s shoulders to still his tread. “I missed you so much and for so long. I still hate when people call me ‘Nic’ because it always makes me think of you. I keep everyone at arm’s length. I can’t even call my friends by their first fucking names most of the time. And these are people who would take a bullet for me. And I would take one for them. But they’re not you. No one else has ever been you.”
Nicholas let go of Ben’s shoulders. His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed, and a look of uncertainty flickered through his eyes. His hands drooped at his sides like wilted flowers. Ben took hold of them and laced their fingers together after a tentative fumble.
“Nic,” Ben whispered.
He tilted his chin toward Nicholas. This was apparently the only encouragement Nicholas required. He met Ben halfway, and their lips connected in a desperate caress.
Ben squeezed Nicholas’ rough hands, aware that his own were calloused from his day at the factory. The kiss was tender but rushed as if they were both afraid this would be the last time they embraced. The despondency of it inspired Ben to draw Nicholas even closer.
“I’m sorry,” Nicholas said, leaning his forehead against Ben’s.
“Shut up,” Ben whispered. “We’re fixing it.”
“Are we?” Nicholas asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I always hated it when other people called you ‘Nic’ too, you know.”
A tentative though boyish grin lit Nicholas’ features, and Ben was transported back thirteen years. Who needs a DeLorean when you have a smile like that?
He dropped one of Nicholas’ hands and trailed his fingertips over the gold star on the breast pocket of his shirt to straighten its position. “I’m not going to just disappear again.”
“I know your address in Boston now, anyway,” Nicholas said, trying on another smile.
“I still have to make that citizen’s arrest.”
Nicholas laughed, though the sound was more like a sigh of relief than an expression of mirth. “I think I deserve it this time.”
“Let’s just make it through tonight in one piece,” Ben said after a moment. “Then we can figure this out.”
“I can work with that,” Nicholas said, squeezing Ben’s left hand. He checked his watch and frowned. “It’s twenty to five.”
“We should head to the square soon,” Ben said.
“Buy you a coffee? Bet you my badge Mae is still open despite the curfew.”
“After you, Sheriff,” Ben said. “Keep your badge, though. It suits you better.”
Nicholas’ eyes lingered over Ben’s face for a few seconds before he grabbed his jacket and led them out of the house. They walked side-by-side down Dunmore, passed the station, and headed across the square to Duvall’s in companionable silence.
Mae looked up from the other side of the diner when they entered, and she hesitated at the sight of the sheriff. Nicholas merely gave a polite nod, held up two fingers, and then pointed to the door. Mae turned without comment and disappeared into the kitchen.
“You really are a cop,” Ben said with an amused snort.
“Stow it, Wiseass,” Nicholas said and brushed his fingertips against the back of Ben’s right hand.
Mae reemerged with two paper cups, which she filled with black coffee. “You boys are in good spirits,” she said, her tone wan.
Nicholas straightened, and Ben glanced over at an empty booth to hide his smile.
“On the house,” Mae said, sliding the coffees and a sugar shaker across the counter.
“You sure?” Nicholas asked. He poured sugar into one of the cups and offered it to Ben.
“Yeah, I’m closing up anyway,” she said, shooting a dour frown at Nicholas while she adjusted the haphazard bun she had pulled her fiery hair into. “Curfew and all.”
“Hurry home, Mae,” Nicholas said with mild-mannered reserve. “And be safe.”
“Yeah, yeah. Good night, boys.”
“Good night,” Nicholas said.
Ben waved to Mae as he walked out of the diner. Nicholas followed close behind and sighed when they were outside. For the first time, Ben considered the amount of pressure Nicholas was under even without the issue of the monster in the woods.
“She’ll get over it,” Ben said.
“Yeah,” Nicholas replied and took a pensive sip of his coffee.
They crossed to the square and dropped down onto the same bench they had occupied earlier. Ben perched beside Nicholas and checked the clock tower over the portico of Town Hall.
Ten minutes to spare.
“This is crazy, right?” Nicholas asked, his brow furrowing to erase the youthfulness that had leveled Ben back at the house.
“Which part?”
“Going into the forest to track down a monster.”
“I dunno,” Ben said, surfing on a sudden wave of nostalgia as he drank his coffee. “We’ve done it before.”
A weak laugh escaped Nicholas’ lips, and he looked off at the fountain. His slight smile disappeared, and Ben followed the sheriff’s gaze. The memory of Harper’s blood on the sidewalk made Ben waver.
“We were good partners in crime back then,” Nicholas said finally, drawing Ben from his thoughts. There was a hint of hopeful longing in his eyes, and Ben swayed his left knee to the side so that it collided with Nicholas’ right.
“We still can be now,” Ben said.
Nicholas glanced at his shoes to hide another smile. A comfortable beat of silence passed before he spoke again. “You know what I keep thinking about?”
“No, what?”
“I threw rocks at him,” Nicholas said with a humorous incredulity directed toward himself. “I threw rocks at an angel.”
“Fuck, you did. An archangel, actually.”
Nicholas snorted out a laugh, and the previous tension between them dissipated completely. “Will you ride with me to the factory? Please?”
“Of course,” Ben said without hesitation.
Nicholas seemed satisfied and finished his coffee. Ben turned back to the fountain and noticed a figure approaching from the west end of Main Street.
Marietta carried a black duffel bag and a small leather satchel. Her hoop earrings swung as she walked with all the purpose of a passenger searching for her gate at the airport, though she halted mid-stride to survey Ben and Nicholas. Nicholas stood to greet her and offered to take her bags. She smirked while she glanced from him to Ben and then back again.
“You certainly can, Officer Friendly. I think I know what you’ll be up to later, Benjamin.”
Ben nearly spat out a mouthful of coffee.
“Excuse you,” Marietta said and shot Ben a playfully reproachful frown.
Ben felt his cheeks burn with a fierce blush, and Nicholas gave them a confused look.
Damn psychic.
“You mind your language, Benjamin.”
Understanding seemed to dawn on Nicholas, but he stood straighter and cleared his throat when Mayor Stewart appeared. Stewart must have gone home to change as he was now dressed in jeans and a worn flanne
l coat rather than the pressed suit and tie he had been wearing earlier in his office.
“Sir,” Nicholas said. “I’m glad you changed your mind.”
“That boy could talk the face off a mountain lion,” Stewart said, nodding to Ben.
Ben hid a small smile when he noticed the way Nicholas’ lips quirked in response.
Nicholas tossed his empty coffee cup into a garbage bin, doing his part to keep Point Pleasant Pleasant, and Ben discarded his cup as well. They led Marietta and Stewart to the Sheriff’s Department where Astrid and Daniel were waiting in the parking lot by one of the cruisers.
The deputies’ rigid postures radiated unease. Nicholas clapped a hand to Daniel’s shoulder, and there was a glimmer of pride in his eyes as he regarded his officers.
“Hold up a minute,” Stewart said, scanning the small group. “You insisted that we needed seven people. There’s only six here.”
“Bill Tucker will join us on the way there,” Ben said.
Stewart glanced to the sheriff for confirmation. At Nicholas’ nod, Stewart sighed.
“All right, then,” he said. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Silas, You ride with Astrid and Daniel,” Nicholas said, gesturing toward Daniel’s cruiser. “Ms. Abernathy, ma’am, you can ride with us.”
Marietta strolled over to Nicholas’ car and climbed into the passenger seat without hesitation.
I should have called shotgun, Ben thought.
“You should have moved faster,” Marietta chided and slammed the door shut.
The backseat of the cruiser was cut off from the front with a latticework of metal mesh and Plexiglas that reminded Ben of the jail cell. He knew that the doors would not open for him once closed.
Nicholas appeared apologetic as he opened the back door behind the driver’s side.
“You better let me out,” Ben grumbled, sliding inside. There were grooves in the backing that Ben supposed were meant to cradle the arms of handcuffed suspects. The seat was made of an uncomfortable hardshell plastic that probably lent itself to a hose down after it was cleared of an especially unsavory—or at least thoroughly unclean—arrestee.
“I will,” Nicholas replied in earnest. He waited for Ben’s approval before he shut the door.
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