by Amelia Wilde
The truth is that I don’t want to go to bed without him. Could anyone blame me? That warm, solid body next to mine was as much an anchor as it was a match to the tinder of my imagination.
“You did the right thing,” I tell my reflection in the mirror, though I don’t really believe it. What I do believe is that we were getting close to the event horizon of our relationship—the point at which all the light can no longer escape the gravity of our differences. He’d tried to give me all of him, and it sent me running back to the city.
You couldn’t bear it. Not twice, that little voice in my mind whispers. You need him, and you couldn’t bear it if you killed him.
Not like I killed the rest of them.
24
Bennett
Two things happen in the early morning.
I get a text from Eva, and I get an email from Cindy Siverling.
I read her first email when I got back to my apartment, feeling like I’d lost all the purpose in my life. It only occurred to me when I opened my laptop that Eva had planned this. She hadn’t wanted to see what the email said in the first place, and she’d done her level best to delay it as long as possible.
Or maybe she really had needed to come back home.
Cindy’s first email had ended in an offer to talk on the phone.
Then, this morning, another message:
It might be best if we meet face-to-face. I’m not sure I want to deliver these kinds of details to you over the phone. If you’re ever in Michigan, please stop by and we can talk.
She left her address and phone number too.
When I was at the cabin with Eva, flying back to Michigan would have been a nonstarter. Why would I ever get in a metal tube to be hurtled across the Great Lakes and put all that distance between us? At the cabin, she was the sun, and I was in orbit around her.
Twelve hours alone, and I’m already being pulled into a new solar system.
There’s no direct flight before 10:00 p.m., and as much as my blood is humming to move, move, move, I don’t want to spend all day in the airport—Milwaukee, specifically. And because she’s not here, and because I’m honestly not sure that she’ll ever be here again, I book that ten o’clock flight. I feel a little pang when I realize this will mean cutting the trivia night short.
No. I won’t even be able to go at all.
It’s too far from the airport, and when you factor in security....
This is going to mean disappointing Eva.
But the call is too strong.
And she is too far.
I write back to Cindy.
I have some things to take care of in the city, but I’ll be in Michigan tonight. Please let me know when you have some time.
Done.
It’s only then that I remember the text.
Eva: I missed you last night.
Ben: I missed you, too. How did writing go?
Eva: My shoulders are killing me.
Ben: You should find someone to barter massages with you.
Eva: I think I did find him, but for some reason I let him go back to his own place last night ???
My heart thrums in my throat. Her name on the screen might as well be a video of her at the lake, her hair shining in the sun, those red curls flying in the breeze. Eva, laughing in that too-small bikini.
What the hell am I thinking?
How can I disappoint her?
The answer, of course, is that I need to do both things. I need to meet with Cindy, and I need to see Eva. If I can make them both work, it’ll be a sign.
Ben: Keep going. Finish that book.
Eva: How many words will it take to see you at the trivia night?
Ben: As many as you can.
Eva: I’ll bring proof with me.
Ben: Good girl.
Eva: That’s not fair.
Ben: All’s fair in love and books.
And secrets, I think to myself.
There’s a long pause. She must be writing, so I get up and strip. I can shower and get some errands done then pack for the airport.
Eva: Ben?
The phone vibrates just as I’m stepping into the shower. I get back out to look.
Ben: These don’t count as words, by the way.
Eva: There’s something we should talk about tonight.
Ben: I’m always up for a good talk. Write enough words, and I’ll be an open book.
She doesn’t say anything after that.
It turns out that even when you work from home, skipping town for a solid week will leave you with a pile of things to do when you get back.
First: explain to all my buddies from the Warriors where I’ve been. Ash wants to know if I skipped town for another eighteen months to look for more shrapnel in the desert. Gunnar Langdon, another guy who always shows up late and already having pregamed, wants to know why I didn’t take him along for the ride. And Nico Dawson, having heard from the other two that I probably bought a one-way ticket to some destination across the planet, wants to know if he should watch my apartment for break-ins.
These guys.
Next: take out all the garbage. Pay the rent and the bills. Go through the fridge and throw away anything that’s on the verge of spoiling. Take out the garbage again. I don’t know how long I’ll be in Michigan. I don’t know how long it will take to get answers from Cindy, and even if I don’t, there’s still Dad’s hometown to check again. There might be something I missed. And if I could just understand....
I’m in a cab on the way to trivia night when the alert comes in on my phone.
It’s the kind of pop-up message I’d usually ignore, but this one is from the app that I use to book all my flights.
And mine has been moved up...by ninety minutes.
I curse under my breath, drawing a glance from the cab driver. I should tell him to turn the car around right now. I don’t have time to go to a trivia night. But Eva’s expecting me to be there, and I’m not some fucking coward who’s going to bail on her via text message.
The traffic is heavy for Saturday night, and when the guy pulls up at the curb, I’m ready to tear the door off and burst out onto the sidewalk like the Hulk. Instead, I shove a twenty into his hand. “Stay here. Five minutes. I’ll be back out. Okay?”
He throws his hands up like I’ve made an impossible request. “All right. Five minutes.”
The trivia night is at a different bar—a fancier one—and the main floor is crowded. The trivia itself, judging by the signage, is on the second floor and I take the stairs two at a time.
Our crowd is easy to spot.
There’s Ash, laughing over beers with Gunnar and Nico. Day and Wes stand together off to the side, and huddled next to them, almost in the shadow of the corner, is Eva.
She’s deep in conversation with Whitney, who reaches out and pats her shoulder in what I can only assume is meant to be reassuring, but Whitney is a little overenthusiastic. I weave my way through the tables toward them, coming up just in time to hear Whitney say, “—tell him how you feel. There’s only one way to get over this, and that’s by going through.” She pauses for a dramatic breath. “Some of the great hardships of our lives are not meant to be avoided, but rather faced head on, so that—”
“Hey.” I come up behind Whitney, trying to ignore the sensation of my stomach sinking right into my shoes.
Whitney turns, her eyebrows rising. “The man of the hour. I’ll get out of your way.” Her eyes flick back and forth between me and Eva. “Best wishes to you both,” she says finally, then goes to stand next to Wes, who curls his arm protectively around her. I can feel Whit’s eyes on us.
And then I feel nothing at all, except Eva’s wide, green gaze. “Ben,” she says softly.
“Listen.” The words tumble out one after the other, like pearls on a string. “I can’t stay. I know I said we’d talk, but I have a flight to catch.”
“What?”
“I’m going to Michigan. They might have answers. Answers about my dad. A
nswers about where he came from, and why he pushed me into a career he hated. I have to know.” My blood is on fire. “I have to know why he did that. Because it meant that I was in that Humvee when the bomb went off. And that—shit, that—that changed everything for me. And I know you’ve got your own stuff going on—”
“You don’t know.”
“I know you’re scared, Eva. And I know you needed someone to get you writing again. And I’ll always… fuck, I’ll always treasure that week we spent. But you don’t have to pretend you want that forever. Not for my sake. We don’t have to live a lie.”
I take her face in my hands and kiss her. As deeply as I can. As quickly as I can. Because that cab is waiting, and if I stay here much longer, my heart will shatter. And if it does—if a bomb goes off underneath my feet one more time—I’ll never be able to stop looking for the answers.
“I loved it,” I tell her when I can finally pull away. “I loved every minute of it. And I’ll let you know when I’m back in the city.”
I turn and go before she can say the words that will destroy everything.
******
“Ben!”
My hand is on the door handle. The cab driver is waving me inside. I can’t stop. I can’t ever stop, otherwise—
“Ben, what the fuck?”
I turn around to find Whitney barreling across the sidewalk at me.
“What the fuck?” It’s the shortest sentence I’ve heard her say. “Jesus, Ben, what are you thinking? What the hell is in Michigan that’s so important you couldn’t talk to Eva?”
“The answers. To all the shit with my dad. Why his family placed him up for adoption when he was a teenager. Why—”
Whitney snaps her fingers in front of my face. “Stop. Stop that right now. There are no answers in Michigan, Ben. There are only more questions.”
“You can’t know that.” The cab driver is getting impatient.
“Oh, I can. I had a dad who died too. And there are never any answers that anybody else can give you. What you want is for him to explain himself, and that is never going to happen. It’s not going to happen, Ben.” She stabs a finger behind her at the bar. “Eva is waiting in there, looking as pale as I’ve ever seen her, because she thinks it’s over between you two. Because she thinks that whatever some random woman in Michigan can tell you is more important than what she has to say. She’s trying to protect you, Ben, and you’re walking out. Don’t fucking do it.”
“I have a flight.”
“You have a woman who loves you. And if you want answers, hers are the only ones that matter.”
My heart pulses and aches, and as Whitney faces off with me, the urge to get on a plane, to move, to find, fades. In its place is a fiery need to see Eva.
I open the door to the backseat, grab my bag, and wave the cab driver off.
“Go back in,” Whitney says.
I go.
25
Eva
I’m almost to the exit.
Almost home free.
If I can get out of here, I can call a car. I can go back to my apartment. I can shut this whole ridiculous adventure out and pretend it never happened, pretend I never got so close to risking someone I love for something that doesn’t matter at all.
I’m about to push the door open by the broad metal handle when it swings outward, and there he is.
“That was fucked up,” Ben says.
“I killed my entire family.”
He stares at me.
That’s not how I wanted it to come out. That’s not how I wanted this conversation to go. But I’ve been holding it inside for twenty years, and I can’t stand it anymore. Not when I feel this way about him. Not when all I want is to wrap my arms around his waist and press my cheek into his chest and let the rest of the world fall away.
Another heartbeat goes by, and another.
“Okay.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Whitney was right.”
All my defenses instantly snap into place. “Did she tell you?”
“She told me it was more important to talk to you than get on a plane to Michigan. She was right.”
“I can’t be with you.”
Ben shakes his head. “Again with the whiplash.”
“I’m as good as a murderer.”
He holds out his hand and I take it. “Why don’t we go somewhere else to talk about this?”
“No.” If I go somewhere else, I’ll have swallowed all these words, all these horrible truths, and I will never say them. Not ever. I have never said them aloud to another person, and even a two-minute walk down the sidewalk will keep me from saying it to Ben. “If I’m going to tell you, I’m going to tell you right now.”
His eyes are steady. There’s no flare of hate, no suspicion. He’s looking at me like he loves me. And that’s almost enough to break me.
But not quite.
I stand up straight and take a deep breath.
“When I was nine, my older sister Emily—she was perfect.” My throat is tight and painful, and it takes everything I have to get these words out. “She was kind of a prodigy. Advanced beyond her years in everything, and my parents… they wanted to make the most of it. So I...fell by the wayside a little bit.”
“They left you alone?”
“They left me with a nanny, Lola, who came with me to all my school events. You have to understand; Emily just needed...more. More than school could give her. So my parents gave her everything they could. Extra classes, almost every night of the week. Seminars at the local college on Saturdays. Now, I think they were trying to stay a step ahead of her, but it was hard. In comparison, I must have seemed like an idiot.”
“I’m sure they never thought that,” Ben says, and those eyes are filled with compassion. “There’s no way they did, Eva.”
“They thought I was...slower. They thought I’d never catch up to her. I heard her at the bonfire. Let me get this out.”
“Okay.” Ben holds my hand. He doesn’t let go.
“I was taking ballet lessons that year.” The memory comes back to me as strongly as if I’m still in that studio. I would have done anything to be the best in my class. I danced until my feet were so sore I could hardly walk. I wanted to catch up with Emily. I tried so hard. “And in the spring, we were supposed to have this recital.”
It had been so close to winter that not all the snow had melted yet. I was cold in my little tutu and leotard, standing there with Lola outside the studio, waiting for them to show up.
“The morning of the recital, my parents told me they couldn’t make it after all. Some visiting professor had offered to meet with Emily, and they only had time to make it to one thing. They chose Emily, again, and I lost it.” I can still remember the heat in my cheeks and how raw my throat got from shouting at them. “I screamed and cried and begged for them to come to the recital. They were running late, and my mother was irritated, and she gave my dad this look.”
I’ll always remember that look.
“And he looked back at her, like—what else can we do? And he shrugged his shoulders, and then he said, ‘Don’t worry about it, Eva. We’ll cut the meeting short and come see you at your recital.’ I could still feel how off things were when they kissed me goodbye and left me with Lola.”
“You were nine.”
“It didn’t matter.” My chin is starting to quiver. “It never mattered after that, because while they were on the way to my recital, a truck driver fell asleep at the wheel, crossed the centerline, and crushed their car.”
Ben’s hands fly to my shoulders, bracing me.
“It was instant, I guess. But the thing is, Ben, you learn from that. And I can’t… I can’t risk you the same way.”
He folds me into his arms then, not saying a single word, and I break.
Twenty years of pent-up emotion pour out of the wounds in my soul, and I soak his shirt with my tears, trying to stifle the sobs with a knuckle in my mouth. It’s a relief. It’s mortifying. It goes on and on and
on, until finally I gasp in one full breath, and then another. And then, at last, I step away from Ben and wipe my eyes with my sleeves.
“No wonder you didn’t tell anyone you needed help with your book.”
“I’m sorry.” I’m a snotty mess. “I should have told you right away.”
He laughs.
He actually laughs, and the sound is a balm to my soul. “Yeah? That’s how you wanted to open things on the first date?”
“I should have been honest with you.”
Ben cups my face in his hand and lifts my chin. “You were.”
“I love you and I’m afraid that if I need you too much, you’ll die.”
“I love you. And that’s ridiculous. You didn’t kill anyone. And even if you needed me that much....” He shakes his head. “If I died doing something for you, I’d die a happy man,” he says gently, and then he kisses me. And it’s so possessive and soft and searching and deep that it finally cracks the frozen shards in my heart, destroying the stupidly complex gate there and melting it down until I am nothing but an open soul to him. His touch is rain in the desert. His kiss is light in the dark. And I never want to live without it again.
When I come up for air, I take a breath of the sweet possibility of a new life and give Ben a businesslike nod. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. You can go to Michigan now. Get all the answers you need, and then come back, okay? I don’t want to spend too many nights without you. Not to be needy.”
He looks down at me, a smile spreading across his face. God, it’s good to see it. It’s more than good. It’s the best thing I’ve ever seen in my life. “I have all the answers I need, right here.”