That One Night (That One Series Book 1)

by Josie Wright

  “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.

  “Whoa. This was...wow,” he admits sheepishly, a bit of the former hurt washed from his features. “I’m sorry, babe—for hurting you.”

  Cradling my face in his hands, he kisses me gently and I feel like I’m melting. All my fears, all my reservations, the wall around my heart dissolving into a puddle at my feet. This makes me want to just throw caution to the wind and jump in with both feet. But it’s not just me I have to think about. I need to take Archer into account as well.

  “I think we should take this slowly—for now at least,” I say, biting my lip, waiting for him to reply.

  He cocks his head slightly, giving me a lopsided smirk.

  “Not if you keep that up, we ain’t.” He proceeds to free my lip from between my teeth with his fingers, letting his hand slide down my neck and looping around it, pulling me close to him. I nuzzle his neck, inhaling his scent.

  “You sniffing me again?” he jokes and I can feel the rumble in his chest, while he’s trying not to laugh.

  “Problems with that?” I make a point of drawing in another deep breath.

  “Not at all, you little weirdo.”

  We stay like this for another moment, before I open the driver’s side door and crawl off his lap. He gets out with me, grabbing my waist and pulling me into another hug.

  “Thank you, Frankie. For understanding and not judging my dad or me.”

  I pull away and stand up on my toes, kissing his stubbly jaw.

  “You’re welcome.”

  We drive home in separate cars since we never made it off the parking lot. I hate leaving him, but at the same time I believe it will do us good to get a moment to ourselves. I’m at the house before him, and I decide to bite the bullet and get the lecture from my friends over with. And they definitely aren’t amused about my dramatic exit and my refusal to answer the phone. But once Ben comes in and pulls me close to him, his hand resting on my hipbone, everyone seems suddenly pacified.

  When he comes in my room to put Archer to bed, he brings a little box with him.

  “What’s that?” I ask, watc
hing him sit down on the floor across from Archer.

  “It’s something my dad made for Archer. I didn’t give it to him before, but now, if it’s okay…,” he trails off, looking at me apprehensively.

  “Of course, Ben. He’s your dad; Archer’s grandfather.”

  I sit down beside him and watch Archer tearing off the paper with Ben’s help, revealing a wooden duck pull toy with a brightly painted beak. Archer’s name is carved into the wood.

  “Wow, this is beautiful, Ben.”

  He smiles, proudly placing the toy in Archer’s tiny hands.

  “He made it in one of his occupational therapy sessions.”

  We watch Archer drool on the toy, clearly not caring about the craftsmanship of his grandfather.

  When we say goodnight once Archer is snoring happily, it’s with a soft caress, our lips barely touching with the kind of kiss you would expect on a first date. It’s like a promise made without the need for words—a promise that there is more to come, that this is just the beginning.

  ***

  The next couple days go by in a rush. I drop Dean and Alex off at the airport on my way to classes, hating that they won’t be here for Christmas. When I hug them goodbye, Dean holds me close for a little longer.

  “Be good. No more drama and running away,” he chastises me like a father would, but I can detect the hint of grin in his voice.

  Alex is a bit more straightforward. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  “Oy,” Dean huffs in an exasperated tone.

  “Yeah, I know. That leaves me so many choices. Shower, floor, couch...oh, and let’s not forget the kitchen counter,” I chuckle, referring to the time I caught them in the kitchen, when they thought I was at a party all night. It’s a sensitive topic and I tend to take every opportunity to rub it in.

  All I get is a middle finger from Dean and an amused laugh from Alex, before they disappear through the security gate.

  The rest of the day passes quickly and so does Friday. I’m busy with classes and work, while Ben has his own projects. Viv is usually there in the evenings and we all spend time together.

  Ben and I suddenly behave like teenagers getting to know each other for the first time. We kiss, we grope, but all in all it seems we are shier around each other than before, probably knowing that if we take the next step there will be no holding back. We play with Archer, put him to bed together, and later say goodnight with a kiss full of passion and desire. But nothing more comes of it—after all, we decided to take it slowly. I wonder how hard of a time he has with it. I know I do.

  We haven’t spoken much about his dad, both of us needing some time to digest the events. I’d love to call his mother and find out more, ask her questions to get a full picture, but I’d be betraying his trust, and it’s not something I want to do. I guess I need to allow things to just play out however they may.

  Chapter 27

  Fun In The Snow

  Saturday morning rolls around and after a shopping trip for Christmas food with Viv, Ben and I take Archer outside. It started to snow last night, and it’s Archer’s first time in the snow. Bundled up from head to toe, he looks a bit like the Kool-Aid man.

  When we walk out onto the porch, big snowflakes are falling, swirling all around us. The air is crisp and fresh. The ground is covered with snow; it’s an astonishing sight. Once we walk down the steps of the porch, Archer’s eyes get wide, the snowflakes falling onto his cute little face, melting on impact. He starts blinking his eyes and seems undecided if he likes it or not, scrunching up his tiny nose.

  “What’s that, little man? Is it snow?” Ben nuzzles Archer’s head, holding him close. I take out my phone to take a picture, when Archer suddenly pokes out his tongue slightly, opening his mouth in order to catch a snowflake. Whenever one ends up in his mouth, he pulls a funny face and giggles. Ben and I make eye contact for a moment, both of us laughing along.

  Setting Archer on his feet, Ben holds on to his arms, letting him take a few steps in the six inches of snow. The first steps are an awkward little waddle, the surprise about the ground giving in to his tiny feet visible on his face. But then the fascination takes over. Wiggling onto his knees until Ben lets go of his arms, he starts crawling around the snow, making excited noises that remind me of a little piglet with breathing problems. Forgotten is the teething ache from this morning or the fact that I tried to put an ointment on his face to protect his skin from the cold. He cried like a little banshee and I can’t even blame him. I hated that too as a kid, to the point that I would cry as soon as my mother dressed me to go outside in the winter.

  Now, he’s making his way through the snow, occasionally sitting back on his butt and bouncing up and down, giggling like he’s possessed. It’s the most adorable thing to witness. I film with the camera on my phone, until I’m interrupted by a snow ball hitting me on the side of the head.

  “What the hell?” I look at Ben to find him turning his attention back to Archer, trying to look innocent, but I catch a glimpse of the corner of his mouth lifting. Cheeky fucker.

  I put the phone away, and when Ben isn’t looking, I run at him, catching him off guard and tackling him to the ground. Archer notices the commotion, and seeing his daddy on the ground crawls over, starting to throw fistfuls of snow onto Ben’s face. I’m laughing so hard, I can’t even stand up and so is Ben, although he attempts to look mad.

  He tries to give me a stern look. “Payback is a bitch, babe.”

  “You don’t scare me,” I choke out between laughs. At this point it seems Archer is trying to turn him into a snowman, undeterred, shoveling snow on top of him. Ben breaks his eye contact with me, turning towards the little troublemaker.

  “And what do you think you’re doing, huh?” He laughs, rolling Archer to his back and tickling him. “You think you can make a snowman out of daddy?”

  Archer hiccups from the laughter that is shaking his little body. I just stare at them with a soft smile. I could look at them for hours. Archer seems to dissipate Ben’s worries, the pain he’s been carrying around for months. He simply enjoys the moment with his son.

  Suddenly a voice startles us. “I’ll go and make you guys some hot cocoa and tea. It’s freezing.” Mrs. Walsh strolls past us and into the house.

  I get up, my ass completely drenched from the snow, and move to help Ben get back up as well. When I reach out my hand, instead of pulling himself up, he pulls me down to him. Archer seems to consider this as an invitation to now throw snow at the two of us, having the time of his life.

  “Thank you for our son, Frankie,” he breathes into my ear and I feel a shiver run down my spine, definitely not caused by the low temperatures.

  “Well, wasn’t just me, you know.”

  I don’t get to say anything else, as his lips move towards mine, his kiss rough and demanding. For a short moment, I’m in a trance, relishing in the kiss he’s giving me—and that’s the exact moment I feel something cold and wet going down my back.

  “You jerk,” I screech, getting up and trying to shake the snow out of my clothes, but with little success as it’s already melting.

  “Told you payback’s a bitch,” he remarks matter-of-factly, before getting to his feet and taking Archer with him while ignoring my pout. Archer complains with a whine, apparently in love with the snow.

  “We can go back out tomorrow again, Archer. It’s too cold to stay out longer,” I coo to Archer, having caught up with them. Yeah, I know my logic might be lost on him right now.

  We change and warm up with a cup of tea for me and cocoa for Ben, Viv, and Mrs. Walsh. We spend the whole afternoon together, chatting, watching TV and playing with Archer.

  While the others prepare dinner, I decide to take a time-out and stretch my muscles again. It’s been weeks since I’ve done some yoga. The last time was before I left for Thanksgiving, and I’ve been missing the workout.

  I’m in a downward facing dog position, when Ben walks into the sunroom.

 
“Jesus. We’re still taking it slow, right?” He grinds out the words. I open my eyes and peek through my legs at him, just in time to see him adjust himself.

  With a smile I turn my head again and ask innocently. “Yes, we are. Why’s that?”

  “Babe, if you stay in this position much longer, I’m not making any promises. And it’s really not a show I want to give Viv and Mrs. Walsh.”

  Laughing, I sit back down on my heels and turn so I’m facing him. “I guess this concludes my yoga session for tonight, huh?”

  “Yep, pretty much. I know we should take it slow, but damn, it’s hard.”

  I look up at him, containing the laugh that’s trying to bubble up.

  “Taking it slow apparently isn’t the only thing that is hard.” I let my eyes wander down to his crotch and then back up to his face, raising my eyebrows.

  “You…” Before he can finish whatever he was going to say, Mrs. Walsh loudly yells “dinner,” rounding the corner to the sunroom.

  “We’re coming, Mrs. Walsh. Aren’t we, Ben?” I mercilessly tease him, the air around us crackling and popping with sexual tension.

  I follow Mrs. Walsh out of the sunroom, making sure I walk past Ben closely. Really close. My hand brushes his thigh as I pass, the sound of his growl following me to the table.

  Dinner is cut short, at least for Viv, when she’s called to deliver a baby. So after we’re finished, Mrs. Walsh leaves too, mumbling something about watching Sons of Anarchy, which leaves just Ben, Archer, and me. While Ben brings Archer to bed, I clean up after dinner, lost in my own thoughts. I startle when I suddenly hear Ben behind me.

  “What do you say, babe? Want a horror movie night. We could start with Halloween, an oldie but still a classic. And follow it up with Mama.”

  I know I’ll come to regret it. I love horror movies and the thrill they offer, only to then end up lying in bed listening for strange sounds and biting my nails, seeing evil lurking in every corner of the room. Ignoring the voice of reason, I turn to him with a grin.