Ben stares at me before calling me out. “Three?”
I didn’t mean to say it. It just came out. Clearly my subconscious brain already thinks of Ben as part of whatever weirdness I have going on, but can I blame me? He stalks me all day. He’s aware of everything I do and now much of what I’m thinking. What else am I expected to think?
“Uh huh. I’ve got you, Dax, and Aiden glued to me day in day out,” I say, trying to make it nonchalant and non-committal. Let him read it the way he wants. Only Ben doesn’t give me the easy out. He just stares.
“You’re adding me to that list?” he asks.
“You’ve added yourself.” His brow furrows. I realise too late that it might be taken wrong—like he’s pushed himself onto me. I rush to explain. “Your actions have anyway. You seem extra considerate of me. I took it to mean, uh…am I wrong?”
“Are you wrong?” he repeats but doesn’t answer. Instead, he holds his arm out and directs me toward the stair. We climb in silence. Ben remains two steps behind me the entire way. When wereach my bedroom door, he takes a deep breath and moves away. Giving me space and changing the subject.
“I’ll sleep here tonight. I know the guys are watching downstairs and that you are as safe as it gets, but I… just in case you need someone in the night, to talk or just to feel less…I’m saying this wrong. I’ll be right next door.” As if to prove it, he walks to the door on the opposite side of the stair and reaches for the handle.
“I appreciate that. Thank you,” I say.
“No problem… We should…” He nods toward his room.
“Yeah. It really has been a long day, and I’m probably going to fall into a food coma after all of that,” I agree.
“And you have an early start,” he adds.
“Yeah.”
“Right.” He doesn’t move an inch.
Neither do I. “Okay.”
“After you…”
I take the invitation to move, even if only to avoid the awkwardness between us. It’s not exactly uncomfortable, more the kind of nervousness you experience as a teen talking with a crush. That slow, painfully wonderful moment where you ultimately wish the floor would open up and swallow you for your social ineptitude.
We stand at our respective rooms like mirrors of each other, poised with hands on the door handles. I turn my handle. Ben breaks the silence.
“The name Mouse used to hurt because it was more accurate than a joke. I was always small. An unwanted pest. I constantly found myself under someone’s boot, you know?” He stares at the door as he speaks. I watch him with his head bowed and hurt for him because I know that feeling well.
“I do.”
“That’s why I want to thank you.”
“There’s no need.” I turn and take a step towards him, but he’s still staring at the floor in front of his door.
“There is. Th…thank you for seeing me.” Ben’s words stutter as his voice thickens around a lump he swallows down quickly. “You’ll never know just how much that means.”
He slips into his room before I can reply. Not that I’d know what to say. I stand for a second, staring at his closed door, and wonder how long people have treated him that way. How long has he treated himself this way?
I slip into my room and vow to do my absolute best to continue to make Ben feel seen, and heard, and important, because he is all those things to me already.
Chapter Twenty-eight
The manor is dark. Pockets of light illuminate spots on the wall no bigger than dinner plates. The candles blow out as I pass, leaving the path behind me in utter darkness and pushing me onward. There is only the next step, and the next. I don’t know my destination, but the softest whisper of music pulls at me. The tempo is slow and dreamy, picking me up and sweeping me forward.
Onward.
No turning back now.
A dead-end block me from the music, and when my feet stop, so too does the playing. Instead, there’s a single tone. One key is pressed down repeatedly, like a reminder to keep going. Only by moving will my song be played out to completion.
Onward.
