The question was, then, what would make him happy? And was she brave enough to find out?
20
Ben hadn’t showered in three days. Or something like that, anyway. Honestly, he’d stopped caring about personal hygiene right about the time he’d taken a bite of a hot dog and ketchup had squirted out the end of the bun and splattered his shirt. Instead of getting a napkin and wiping it up like any other civilized man would have, he’d simply lifted the cotton tee to his mouth and licked it clean. Well, cleanish.
He was pretty sure that had happened on Tuesday, and he thought today was Friday. Maybe. He could probably look at his phone to find out, but he’d stopped checking it once he realized Maeve was never going to return his texts, and now the battery was dead. That was probably for the best, though. If his phone had been working, there was a very strong likelihood he would have sent her an additional twenty texts to go with the fifteen he’d shot off the day she’d broken up with him.
Ben winced, recalling the moment he’d walked out her front door and it had slammed shut behind him. The reverberation still echoed in his head when things got too quiet. He had experienced some pretty low points this past year, but that moment had been the lowest of the low. Getting fired from two jobs was one thing, but getting shit-canned by your girlfriend was on a whole other level.
At this point, he needed a new life plan—it was clear the one he’d been operating from was faulty. The job with Hartwell wasn’t an option, not if he wanted to be able to live with himself. Neither were any of the other equally reprehensible firms filling his inbox with offers. But he needed to do something. He didn’t want to move back home to Portland, but he was forced to admit that living in his parents’ house wasn’t any worse than wallowing in unemployed misery above his best friend’s garage. His brother Nick was doing well out in Maryland. Maybe he could head east to see if he could line up a good job out there. But was living with Nick any better than crashing with his parents? At least if he lived in Portland, he’d get a home-cooked meal out of the deal. Or maybe he could strike out on his own and go some place completely new … somewhere no one knew who he was or how he’d hit rock bottom. He could start over, build a life for himself.
Except he didn’t want a new life. He wanted the one he had here, in River Hill. With Maeve.
Which meant he needed to man up, take a shower, and figure his shit out. Not necessarily in that order. He had no idea if she’d forgive him for having even considered the offer in Hawaii, but he had to try. Maeve meant too much to him to give up so easily.
So they’d had a fight. Couples fought all the time. According to Noah, he and Angelica had fought tooth and nail the first six months they were together. And if the things Iain had said during their last poker night were anything to go by, the makeup sex was definitely worth it.
Ben bolted upright.
Shit. Poker night.
If today was Friday, that meant Iain, Sean, and Noah were all over at Max’s right now. While his best friend was as clueless as Ben when it came to relationships, Maeve’s brother was in a committed, long-term relationship, Noah was engaged to be married, and Sean was a newlywed. If anyone could help him figure out what to do about Maeve, it was those guys. Assuming, of course, they hadn’t already decided he wasn’t good enough for her.
The thought had him stopping in his tracks on his way to the shower. It was entirely possible that he’d step one foot inside of Max’s house and get punched in the face by Iain. Although the affable, laid back Irishman didn’t seem like the violent type. Noah, on the other hand? That was more the big man’s style.
Ben pushed images of Noah breaking his nose to the back of his mind and yanked his smelly shirt off over his head. He wadded it up into a ball and tossed it across the room into a hamper in the corner. He made quick work of the rest of his clothes and then stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash away all the stress and stink of the last seventy-two hours. And, apparently, his stupidity, too. Because while he was in there, he had an idea that was so perfect he marveled that he hadn’t seen it before.
An hour later, Ben pushed open Max’s front door and poked his head inside. “Can I come in?”
Four male heads popped up at his greeting. “I was wondering if you were coming or not,” Max said, his gaze dropping back down to the cards in his hands. “I’ve been texting you all day, and when you didn’t answer, I figured you might be too hungover.”
Ben stepped over the threshold and into Max’s living room where the card table was set up. Settling into a fifth chair presumably reserved for him, he asked, “Hungover?”
Max’s eyes flicked back up, his gaze probing. “When I finally got home at midnight, you had that emo shit you used to listen to back in college turned up full blast. I stopped in to tell you to turn it down, but you were passed out on the couch with a pile of beer bottles scattered around you. Didn’t you wonder how they’d mysteriously made it into the trash can when you woke up?”
“That bad, huh?” Noah asked.
Ben scrubbed his hand down his face. “I don’t even remember that.” He scrunched up his nose and looked at the ceiling while he tried to sift through the foggy memories of the evening before. He’d had Chinese food delivered around seven, which he’d proceeded to demolish even though he’d planned to save some of it for leftovers. Then, he’d snuck into Max’s house and pilfered a six pack of beer after realizing he’d blown through his own stash already.
Sean glanced up, his gaze subtly probing. He never lectured any of them, but Ben had noticed a time or two that he paid a lot more attention to his friends’ drinking than someone who hadn’t battled his own demons otherwise would. He was generally nice enough not to say anything, but he sure as hell noticed everything. “Been there, done that, got the t-shirt. Should we be worried?”
Ben shook his head. “I don’t normally go on benders, but last night …” He blew out a long breath. “I just wanted to forget the look on her face when she ordered me out of her house. Booze seemed like the quickest way to accomplish that.”
“Like I said, should we be worried?”
“No, it’s not a problem.” He turned to face Max. “And it won’t happen again.”
“Good,” Max said, picking up his poker chips and letting them cascade back into a pile next to him. “I don’t want to talk my neighbors out of calling the cops again.”
Ben winced. Being arrested for drunk and disorderly conduct or disturbing the peace was all he needed at this stage. Especially if his new plan was going to work. “I’m sorry. Really.”
His lifelong best friend tossed his cards into a pile in the middle of the table. “I fold. And it’s cool, man. I get it. But you can’t say you didn’t bring it on yourself.”
Without conscious thought, Ben’s eyes swiveled to Maeve’s brother. Thankfully, the other man wasn’t scowling. Instead, his lips were tipped up in a smirk. “If it makes you feel any better, Maeve’s just as bad. Christ, the crying is out of control. Thank god Naomi’s not like that. I can’t handle it, lads.”
Ben let out a long, slow breath. As much as he hated to admit it, it did make him feel better. He hated that he’d hurt her, but knowing that she seemed to be taking their breakup just as poorly gave him hope. Those tears meant she cared—a lot. And if that was the case, he had a shot at winning back her trust, and, hopefully, her heart.
“Listen,” he said to Iain, “I love your sister—” Four pairs of eyes swung to him, and he cleared his throat. “Yeah, I said it.”
“Did you say it to her?” Noah asked as Iain studied him from across the table.
Ben flattened his palms against the table top. Saying all of this out loud was hard enough, but doing so in front of this particular audience was even more difficult. While he’d gotten to know Iain, Noah, and Sean in the months he’d been in River Hill, he couldn’t be sure how they’d react. Each had dealt with their own dramas on their way to happily-ever-after with Naomi, Angelica, and Jess, but this
thing with Maeve was different. While she was Iain’s family by birth, he’d seen them all treat her like a little sister of sorts—and not always in a good way. “No. Not yet. She, um, didn’t give me a chance.”
“Well, you had just told her you were taking a job with her sworn enemy across the fucking Pacific,” Iain said, his tone harsh.
Something about the way he’d characterized the situation gave Ben the power to continue. He was a lot of things, but an asshole wasn’t one of them. Well, not anymore … and it was important they knew that about him. “Actually, I didn’t. I told her I’d been offered a job with them. I’d gone over to her house wanting to discuss the pros and cons, but within minutes of seeing her, I knew I couldn’t take it. It’s not...it’s not what I want. No matter how many over-the-top benefits the job came with, I couldn’t leave her. I love her.”
Iain stared at him for several silent beats, during which Ben swore it was silent enough to hear a pin drop. The older Brennan’s lips flattened into a hard line and he nodded once. “Okay, then. What are you going to do about it?”
Ben reached into his back pocket and pulled out the sheet of paper he’d put together before coming downstairs. Slowly, he unfolded it, flattened it, and then turned it around so the other men could see it clearly. “If the work I did for Youth Mentors taught me anything, it’s that there isn’t a lawyer in town who knows real estate and contract law as well as I do.” He pushed the paper across the table. “And that got me to thinking. I don’t need to work for some big, fancy firm with a marquee list of clients to find fulfillment. There’s enough work right here in River Hill and the surrounding communities to build my own practice. It won’t be easy, but how’s that saying go again?”
Max grinned at him from across the table with what looked to Ben’s eyes a lot like pride. “Nothing worthwhile ever is,” he finished.
“Exactly,” Ben said. “It took me awhile to see it, but I’m right where I’m supposed to be. I fucked up, I know that, but hopefully when I tell Maeve how I plan to do good for the community, she’ll see I’m not the asshole she accused me of being. I want to build a life with her, here. But I’m going to need your help.” His gaze swept over the table. “I hate calling in a favor like this, but between you, you know practically everyone in River Hill. And those you don’t know, your significant others do.”
Noah leaned back in his chair, his burly arms crossed over his barrel of a chest. He glanced down at the paper and then back up to Ben. Slowly, a smile spread across his bearded face. “Max always said you were one of the smartest fuckers he’d ever met. Glad to see you finally realize it, too.”
21
There was only so long you could wallow in indecision before life swooped back in to distract you, Maeve found. She wanted to talk to Ben, but she was terrified to reach out to him.. What if he said he was leaving? What if he said he wasn’t? He’d sent a lot of text messages at first, while she was still furious and capable of deleting them with a sense of righteous indignation. Now she wished she hadn’t, because he’d gone radio silent.
She’d tried to hide her misery at work, although she was pretty sure she wasn’t fooling anyone. Iain had rolled his eyes at her several times, but they were both too busy for him to deliver another version of his earlier lecture. Orders were rolling in, and she and her team had their noses to the grindstone while Iain was looking slightly frazzled with the effort of sustaining his current marketing push and doing all of the administrative work they needed to stay on top of things. Maybe he was right, and they did need to find a lawyer for the contract work.
It was as good an excuse as any to reach out to Ben, she reasoned. Even if he wasn’t going to stick around—her heart hurt at the thought, a physical ache that made her wince and rub her chest—he might know somebody who could help them out. And if he did tell her he was leaving, she could pretend the only reason she’d reached out at all was for work. Unless, of course, he wanted to stay. She couldn’t let herself dwell on how much she wanted him to stay, and go back to being the Ben she knew and loved.
She sighed and packed up her bag. She was due at Youth Mentors for a volunteer shift, and she was dreading that nearly as much as she was dreading calling Ben. She hadn’t heard anything one way or another about the legal situation. Whether Ben had withdrawn his petitions or not, the organization was still vulnerable, still ripe for the picking for developers like Hartwell. Joan had worked so hard and done so much good for the community; to see her efforts fail simply because her office was in a prime location for development had to be galling. It infuriated Maeve, and she’d only volunteered there for a short time.
She said her goodbyes to the staff at the distillery and drove across town. As she parked her car, her phone buzzed with a text. It was from Joan, telling her that while she was gone for the day, there were a few items to be dealt with on the front desk. Maeve smiled fondly down at her phone. She’d grown to like Joan immensely over their recent acquaintance. Like an older version of Angelica, she seemed to know everyone and everything in town. Maeve wondered what she would do if Youth Mentors went under. Start up another charity? Retire for real? She already played golf with the mayor every week.
Shaking her head, she slid out of her car and headed for the door. It was unlocked, which surprised her. Maybe one of the other volunteers was still here. Normally when Joan left, she locked up behind her and Maeve used her own key to open the place back up. She dropped her bag on the chair behind the front desk, noticing a piece of paper with Joan’s handwriting laid over the computer keyboard. It looked like a to-do list.
A thump from the offices at the back startled her, and she frowned. “Hello? Anyone here?”
Another thump and a distinctly male grunt were her only answer, so she headed down the hallway to investigate, reaching the two former classrooms at the back half of the building. One of them was Joan’s office, and the other had been empty ever since Maeve had begun volunteering.
Except now it wasn’t.
She stopped dead in the doorway, eyes wide, and tried to understand what she was seeing. Ben stood in the middle of the room, behind a large desk that hadn’t been there the week before. He was heaving a heavy box from the floor onto the desk with a grunt. It landed with a thump, and she understood the sounds she’d been hearing. What she didn’t understand was why.
He wore dark jeans and a plain t-shirt, which clung to his muscles as he shifted the box. His resemblance to Captain America was back with a vengeance. A brief, searing memory of those muscles bunching under her hands as he lifted her into bed made her mouth suddenly dry out.
“B-Ben?”
He looked up. “Oh! I didn’t hear you come in. Hi.” His smile was warm, friendly, everything she was so used to from him. It confused her even more.
“What are you doing here?” she blurted.
He picked up a boxcutter and began to open the taped box with swift, economical movements. “Unpacking my office.”
“Your office?” He was speaking the same language she did, surely, but the words didn’t make any sense.
“Yep.”
“I don’t understand. I thought—”
“That I was off to Hawaii?” He met her eyes, smile still in place but something else in his gaze. Something that looked...determined? “That’s not me, Maeve. Not anymore. You showed me that.”
She took a slow step forward, finally entering the room and glancing around her. The desk wasn’t the only thing that was different. Several bookcases lined the walls, and there were two long filing cabinets underneath the window at the back. A comfortable-looking chair she vaguely recognized as once having been in the parlor at The Oakwell Inn was in front of the desk, and a standard office chair was behind it.
He stood at the desk, one hand still holding the boxcutter, watching her solemnly. “That job in Hawaii, and what they wanted me to do to get it...” He drew in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “I’ll freely admit I probably would have done it, before.”
“Before?”
He set the tool down carefully. “Before this. Before River Hill, before you. I was a trainwreck, Maeve.” His lips tilted briefly into a small smile before he continued. “I burned out, got fired, came crawling to Max and started doing whatever I could to pay rent. But it was never what I wanted. And it never was sustainable.”
She nodded. “I knew that.”
“For a while I thought I should just go back and do the same thing again, eventually, once I’d taken a break. And then I met you.” He stepped toward her, and she instinctively stepped back. She needed to hear the rest. His face froze, a little bit, but then he swallowed and continued. “You showed me that I’m a different person now.”
“I don’t—” She swallowed, realizing that she was about to say something she never thought she’d say. “I don’t think you should give up the job just for me, Ben.” It hurt to say it out loud, but it was the truth. She couldn’t be the solitary anchor that weighed him down and kept him here, no matter how much she loved him. Or he loved her. Because he did, she knew it, deep down. He loved her a lot, and it made her feel astonished and delighted and terrified in equal measure. Just like the way she felt about him.
“It’s not for you, Maeve.” When her eyes flew up to meet his, he actually laughed a little. “Sorry! I’m not saying this elegantly at all. But you’re right. You were the catalyst, but I really am different. The thought of taking that job made me feel sick, when I actually thought about anything but my bank account.”
The Barista's Beloved (The River Hill Series Book 4) Page 14