That One Night (That One Series Book 1)

by Josie Wright

  “Yep, why not? You get the movies. I get the chips.” I sidestep him, making my way to the pantry. When I get back to the living room the lights are off and he’s already on the couch, baby monitor beside him.

  “You ready for the freak out, babe?” He looks way too smug for his own good, making me glower at him in response. He knows full well horror movies scare the crap out of me, but I’m too stubborn to admit it.

  “Bite me, Ben,” I say, walking to the couch.

  “I just might,” he answers, a self-satisfied smile on his face.

  Chapter 28

  Scary Movies

  Plopping down on the couch, I set the bowl with chips between us, suddenly feeling really awkward. Should I sit closer to him? Snuggle up to him? Or sit at the other end of the couch? Jesus, one might think he’s the first guy I’m alone with, not the father of my child.

  His eyebrows knit together. “Why don’t you sit on the porch?” He moves the bowl to his lap, patting the place next to him. I scoot over, slightly embarrassed about my awkwardness.

  “We might be taking it slow, but that doesn’t mean we have to go into reverse.” Ben pulls me to him and kisses the top of my head lightly, my head now resting on his shoulder, his arm around me. I feel like a million butterflies have taken residence in my stomach. It’s hard to recall how often I have fantasized about this moment since I’ve known him—even after he left.

  I snuggle closer, resting my hand on his chest and judging by the sharp inhale, he is affected by our closeness as well. It takes a few moments for us to settle and to get comfortable, and to stop being hyper-aware of every movement and breath the other takes.

  The movie night is as I predicted, with me enjoying the scare, but nearly peeing my pants walking through the darkness to the kitchen, grabbing us some more chips. On the way back, I sneak by the door, making sure it’s locked.

  “What did you just do, Frankie?” Ben mumbles from the couch, without turning around. But I can hear the amusement lacing his voice.

  “I got us chips,” I try to feign innocence, but without much success.

  “Did you just lock the door?” At this point he can barely hold in his laughter.

  “Maybe. What of it?” Sulking, I sink back down on the couch and into his arms.

  “Do you want to watch something else, instead? Something that doesn’t scare you?”

  I lightly slap his thigh. “Pfft, I’m not scared. Hit play, please.” Oh, I’ll have to pay for this.

  It doesn’t get any better during the rest of the movie, and when watching Mama, I frequently squeak like a little girl. Why do they always have to have kids in horror movies? That’s the freakiest thing. In comparison, I’d have no issues coming across Michael Myers, but send a kid with a weird voice and freaky eyes my way and I’m a sobbing wreck in the corner.

  By the time the movie finishes, it’s late. Viv has texted us that she won’t be home for a while, so we take our time in the hallway saying goodnight. His hands are on either side of my face, my body pressed against the wall, his flush against mine. My fingers are clawing at his back, while his tongue tangles with mine, our breath mingling. His mouth is gentle one moment, rough the next, his stubble rubbing my jaw.

  We’re both turned on by this little make out session, my nipples hard, my panties wet, while his erection is pressing into me through his jeans. I slowly grind my hips, needing the friction. When he bites my lower lip, a raspy moan escapes my throat. He groans, sending more waves of pleasure through me. Just as I’m about to throw caution to the wind and fuck him right here in the hallway, he takes a step back and adjusts himself, making my eyes follow the motion. Instinctively, I lick my lips.

  “We’re taking it slow,” he rasps, his voice hoarse with lust. “We’re taking it slow. For Archer. For us.” I hope he’s better at convincing himself than me, because I still want to pounce on him, even though I know he’s right. He kisses my forehead before he turns around and disappears into his room, leaving me hot and bothered.

  That feeling quickly fades once I’m in my room and in bed. Instead of fantasies of Ben naked, scenes from the movie play in my head, every noise making me open my eyes and look around nervously. I even eye Archer suspiciously while he sleeps in his crib. If he says “mama” now, I might run from the room screaming. Inwardly, I chide myself for being this stupid—watching a horror movie in the first place and then being affected by it. That doesn’t stop me from freaking out though.

  Twenty minutes later, I hear the door open. My heart nearly stops for a second, before I hear Ben whisper, “Babe, it’s just me. Don’t scream.”

  He knows me too well. I notice he’s carrying his blanket and pillow, throwing them onto the floor next to my bed.

  “Ben, what exactly are you doing?”

  “Didn’t want you to spend all night looking for something lurking in the shadows, listening to any noise in the house, you little chicken shit.” My heart warms and does this weird pitter patter thing, making me grin like a Cheshire cat. It’s the same feeling I always used to get around him when we were younger and he was nice to me for once and not a jerk. Trying to at least pretend to be cool, I grumble at him.

  “And what exactly are you doing on the floor?”

  “Well, we’re taking it slow, aren’t we?”

  “Yes, but that still means you can lay down in my bed next to me.”

  I scoot over so he has room to lie down beside me. We’re lying so close that our arms are touching. I enjoy the closeness, and the sweet gesture of him coming into my room. I’m lost in the moment, that’s why I startle, when he suddenly asks a question.

  “Have you dated anyone since that night?” His voice betrays his cool demeanor.

  I turn toward him, lifting myself up slightly. He takes the opportunity to put his arm around me, pulling me closer. My hand rests on his chest, while I try to see his face in the dark.

  “I wouldn’t say that. I went out with two guys, but I wouldn’t call it dating them.” I pause but he says nothing, waiting for me to continue.

  “The first two months after you left, I wasn’t really the most social person. I was busy licking my wounds, hating and missing you at the same time.”

  He hugs me closer, swallowing loudly.

  “And then I was too shocked after finding out I was pregnant. So until I was six months along, I didn’t even consider a date. Then I went out with this one guy. He asked me out after class one day and we met up for dinner.” I roll my eyes remembering that night, again feeling the urge to bathe in acid.

  “Why are you shuddering?” I didn’t even notice that I shuddered, but the memory has that particular effect.

  “Because that guy was a total creep with a pregnant woman fetish.” I can’t suppress a giggle.

  “Sorry, a what?” Ben sounds intrigued, amused, and slightly angry at the same time.

  “A pregnant woman fetish. You know, being sexually attracted to pregnant women. We’re at this restaurant and he seems like a decent guy, talking about school, his family. Then he suddenly asks me if he can touch my belly. Odd, but nothing new....everyone felt the need to touch my belly when I was pregnant. I felt like Buddha, just that no one got lucky after rubbing my stomach.” I laugh again, shaking my head slightly at the memory. “So he puts his hand on my stomach and suddenly his breathing grows heavy and he groans ‘ooh, this feels good.’ Yeah, I asked for the check after that and ran like hell out of there.”

  Ben is laughing along with me and I don’t blame him. It was definitely something else.

  “The second guy was really nice, sweet, no weird fetishes, caring, and interested.”

  “What happened?”

  “I couldn’t do it. I was too hung up on you.” My cheeks heat, admitting how much he’s affected me.

  He starts drawing lazy circles on my arm, while I rub my foot on his.

  “What about you?” I hate how insecure I sound asking this question. There is a moment of silence and I steel my nerves
for his answer, holding my breath.

  “I won’t lie,” he says, and my heart stops for a second, worried about what’s he’s going to tell me next. “There were a few dates, some making out, but I didn’t fuck anyone. The first months I spent mostly drunk, feeling sorry for myself and hating my mom, wondering what the fuck to do and who I was.”

  I don’t miss his voice becoming thick with emotion and I start to gently run my hand over his chest, trying to soothe him.

  “Sex was not on the top of my list of priorities. Getting to know my dad kept me busy. But mostly, I felt like an asshole for what I’d done to you that night—how I left you. I thought it was for the best, but I was aware you might not see it that way. I couldn’t get you out of my head. I was hoping I’d come back at some point and maybe still have a chance with you. I didn’t want to fuck that up. I had already done enough of that, and I kept wondering if you could ever forgive me. I still do.”

  I think about it for a moment. I think of the moments we shared in the past weeks, of the conversations I had with Dean on this, and about my own feelings. I finally allow my heart to answer, forcing my brain to shut up.

  “Forgiving is much easier, knowing the reasons for you leaving the way you did. Knowing it wasn’t me. I wouldn’t worry that much about it if I were you.” I lean up, planting a kiss on his jaw.

  He pulls me closer so my body is resting on his, our legs entwined. I want to tell him how I feel about him, but the memory of the last time I did stops me. I want, no, I need for him to say it first this time. So I keep my mouth shut, instead snuggling into him.

  “I talked to my dad last night. He’d like us to come and visit some time, so he can meet you and Archer.” Ben still sounds unsure whenever he mentions his father.

  I reach up to his face, gently running my hand over his jaw and mumble sleepily, “Sounds like a plan.”

  We drift off to sleep like this, staying close to each other throughout the night. It’s the best night’s sleep I’ve gotten in a long time. I have everything I could ever want. Ben and Archer—the three of us finally together.

  Speaking of the little devil, he wakes us up at dawn with an angry cry. I shuffle out of bed, telling Ben to just stay where he is while I change Archer’s diaper. Still on the changing table, he dozes back off, allowing me to crawl back into bed and into Ben’s arms.

  “Crisis averted,” I chime, while assuming my former position.

  “He’s amazing, isn’t he? And we made him.” Ben’s voice is full of wonder.

  “Yeah, he’s a little miracle.”

  Ben seems to hesitate for a moment before he asks, “Did you consider ever not having him?”

  His question surprises me, and I’m unsure what to tell him, scared of what he might think, or how he might react.

  It’s barely a whisper, when I answer. “Yes.”

  Now it’s his turn to be quiet, taking in my reply. I don’t blame him.

  But when he speaks again, his voice is soft and tender, not a trace of blame or accusation in it.

  “What stopped you?”

  Trying to find the right words, I take a deep, shaky breath. I haven’t talked to anyone about this. Not Dean, not Viv, or Alex, and definitely not my parents.

  “I considered it. I....it was a back and forth for two weeks. I didn’t see myself as mother material, and definitely not as a single mother. I wanted to finish my education, to experience life. But when it came down to it, I couldn’t do it.” My voice hitches, which prompts Ben to hug me closer, letting me know he’s okay with what I’m telling him. I continue after another moment.

  “I wish it was a moral reason that stopped me. But that’s not the case. Gosh, this is going to sound pathetic, but the reason I didn’t was because the baby was a part of you. I didn’t want to give that up. Even though you were gone and I was hurting, I wanted to hold on to what we had at least in this way. Oh God, that makes me such a bad person.” The guilt that I’m feeling attacks full force. Having met Archer, being his mother, and knowing that I considered giving him up, it’s tough to deal with.

  Ben sits up suddenly, taking me with him and switches on the light on my nightstand, washing everything in a soft yellow hue. Then he turns to me, before he grabs my face with both hands, his eyes boring into mine.

  “No, Frankie. Don’t you fucking dare putting yourself down. It was a difficult situation for you. Whatever you would have decided, I couldn’t have blamed you. I’m sorry I put you in that position, making you go through it alone. But I’m glad you made the decision to keep him, no matter the reason. You love Archer. It’s evident in everything you do. You have no reason to feel guilty. No reason at all, okay?”

  I nod weakly, partly because my face is constricted between his strong hands, but also because it’s difficult to not feel guilty about it.

  “I mean it, babe. You are a great mom and a good person.” He kisses me softly, his lips barely grazing mine. “I’m glad you didn’t do it.”

  A single, lonely tear is running down my face, making me sniffle.

  “Me too.”

  Our tender moment is interrupted yet again. This time it isn’t Archer though, but an incessant banging on the front door. Ben eases out of bed, making his way downstairs. I can hear him swearing loudly.

  “Hold your fucking horses. I’m coming.”

  Chapter 29

  The Lost Brother

  Laughing, I get up as well and follow him downstairs, only to find him in a manly hug with my brother.

  When Dave spots me, he steps away from Ben and comes over to me, picking me up in a hug.

  “Hey, Stinker. Your favorite brother is finally here.”

  Ruffling his hair, I sigh. “Thankfully, my only brother. More than one of you and I’d have been committed a long time ago.”

  “Okay, I need a shower, food, and sleep—in that order. I’m wiped.” He throws car keys to Ben, who catches them easily. “Here’s your truck, bro.”

  “Thanks man.”

  I’m still hanging around Dave’s neck, happy my brother is here. It’s the second time since I lived here, and the first time since Archer was born that he’s visiting. I guess it keeps him busy to decide what college to attend next.

  For his stay here, we’ve cleared out the fifth and last bedroom in the house that up until now has served as a storage room for everything we didn’t need, as we hadn’t dared to venture into the attic. Well, to be honest it was mostly Ben clearing it out and making it halfway decent so Dave wouldn’t run screaming from the house. We found a cheap bed online that we ordered for him, along with a wardrobe, nightstand, and dresser. Ben insisted on paying, apparently making money with renting out his grandmother’s house in Tucson. It only then occurred to me that he has paid for everything he needed in order to work on the house. When I mentioned it, he waved me off, winking at me. He said he’s got to earn his keep somehow.

  “I’ll fix Dave a man’s breakfast, while you show him his room.” Ben walks past me toward the kitchen, giving me a quick kiss in passing.

  Dave looks back and forth between us, a stupid grin on his face.

  “Have you two finally worked your shit out?”

  “Yeah.” I roll my eyes, grabbing his duffle bag. “Follow me, jerkface.”

  I show him to his room, stopping in the bathroom to show him his shelf and towels, before I disappear into my room to feed Archer and give Dave the chance to freshen up after the ride.

  I breastfeed Archer less and less now, and weaning seems to work perfectly. But this morning I decide to give it another go. We settle in the arm chair, but about a minute after he latched on, I cry out in pain. “Motherfuck!” Removing him from my boob, I look at the crime scene. A little blood is visible on the surface and my nipple is throbbing. I cover up, lifting Archer who seems confused about the commotion. “That’s it. The milk bar is out of business.”

  With that, we make our way downstairs.

  “Can you make Archer a bottle, please?” I ask
Ben, while sitting Archer into his high chair.

  “I assumed you’re going to breastfeed him this morning.”

  “No, your son just bit me.” I make sure to emphasize the word ‘your’.

  Ben walks over, laughing. “Let me see.”

  I try to bat his hands away, but he’s too quick for that, lowering my top and looking at my poor nipple. He looks up at me with a cheeky grin on his lips that makes his eyes crinkle.

  “Want me to kiss it better?”

  Just as I’m about to retort, we hear my brother gagging behind us.

  “I think I’m going to barf. Is my sister’s tit out of sight?” He stands there, with his hand covering his eyes.

  I pack up the goods again, swatting Ben’s hand away when he tries to grope me, and punching Dave for good measure.

  We eat breakfast together, talking about Dave’s trip here. Apparently it was long, and he didn’t meet any women, which made it even longer. I leave the guys to chat for a bit while changing Archer into a different set of clothes and hopping in the shower. Just when I get back down, Viv is coming through the door, looking tired.

  “Rough night?” I ask her, grabbing a cup to pour her some coffee.

  “Oh, don’t even ask.” She nearly slurs the words from exhaustion.

  “I can give you a rough night if you want.” Dave wiggles his eyebrows at her.

  “Dave, you remember Viv, probably the only person to see more vaginas than you,” I reintroduce them.

  “Well, I sure as hell was inside more of them than her,” he chimes up, but is quickly shot down by Viv’s retort. She might be exhausted, but that rarely stops her.

  “Wouldn’t be so sure, hot stuff. I regularly have my hand up one of those.” She clicks her tongue and walks off with her coffee mug and a smirk on her face, leaving Dave speechless.

  ***

  Later that day, the guys play football in the snow, because, you know, that’s the manly thing to do. That is until they are frozen to the bone and come into the house whining for something warm to drink. Leaving my little comfortable cave in the sunroom, where Archer and I had been parked for the past hour or so, I decide to make them some eggnog to ring in the season. By evening, we’re all sprawled out in the living room, Archer in the play pen while we talk about our teenage adventures, which leads to me learning a few things about my brother and Ben, as well as a few of my high school girlfriends that I’d have rather stayed oblivious to.