“Cybil, you have to know that I would never, ever try to hurt you. Then. Or now.”
Now? Would someone say that if they were leading me to my death? If they did, that’s extra cruel, and nothing about who I know Ben to be iscruel. Even when he filled my shower with worms. Ben was a prankster, annoying, a pest worse than a fly at a barbecue, but he was also kind, gentle, and, yes, ridiculously good looking and charming. But there was nothing cruel about him.
“Please believe me.”
The pleading in his voice causes me to slow down my vehicle so I can face him. And maybe make a run for it if I need to. Deep down, I don’t think he would ever hurt me, but the men he might work for certainly could.
I put the car in Park and Ben doesn’t object.So he’s not in a hurry to see me harmed.That’s gotta be good, right? “I want to believe you.”
Ben’s hand reaches across the console and takes mine. “I was a dumb kid trying not to let his best friend know I was head over heels gaga for his cousin. You were smart. Driven. And way too good for a boy like me with dirt on his boots and no real plan. I watched you grow into someone who carried the weight of your family and made something out of the chaos. I never stopped seeing you as the strongest person I knew.” His thumb runs over my knuckles and I’m hanging on to every word as if it’s a balm to my soul. “You didn’t settle. You persevered and I wanted to be someone worthy of standing next to you.”
His eyes are soft but serious.
“What you heard that night? What I said to Rex... it wasn’t about you. It was about me. I was scared. Scared that I was going to give you my whole heart, and you’d leave—because I knew you were meant for big things. You were always going to make the world bend to your will. And I thought I’d be left behind, proud but watching from a distance.”
I stare at our hands, trying to wrap my head around what he’s saying. It sounds real. Too real. And for a second, I forget I’m supposed to be suspicious. For a second, I just want to believe every word like it’s gospel.
“I don’t know what to do with that,” I whisper, my voice tighter than I want it to be. “You’re saying those things... It’s what I always wanted to hear. Back then. Maybe even now.”
I finally look at him. Really look at him. The charming Ben who lives life like it’s a joke is a lot easier to handle than the one sitting acrossfrom me now. His eyes are steady, full of quiet intensity that feels more dangerous to me than any lie.
But in the end, there are lies. Between both of us.
“The problem is, I don’t know if that’s you talking, or Craig Miller.” I take my hand back gently. “I need the truth, Ben. And if you care about me the way you say you do, you’ll stop hiding behind whatever or whoever you’re trying to protect.”
Ben turns away from me and looks out the window. I don’t know what he’s thinking, and for the first time I feel like I want to take it back. Like the tides have shifted and no matter what he says, it’s going to change everything.
“Do you trust me?”
I swallow. “What?”
He faces me, reaches for my hand, and squeezes it with gentle strength. “Do you trust me?”
I don’t want to be the kind of woman who gets swept away by feelings alone. I know better than that. Trust is earned—it’s steady and proven, not just felt. So I’ve held it close, like armor. Treating it like precious currency, knowing that once it’s lost, it’s almost impossible to earn back.
It’s ironic. Here I am, worried about Ben’s trustworthiness, when I’m fully engaged in my own web of lies. But it’s different, right? I spy on bad men. Dangerous, corrupt men. They’re not people I love. They’re not people who can shatter me with a single broken promise. I know the risks and I accept them.
Betrayal from a stranger is a transaction. Betrayal from someone you love is a wound.
I didn’t go to the oak tree that night because I was afraid. Afraid that if I gave Ben my trust, I’d end up like my mom—heartbroken and betrayed. But if I had gone, I would’ve heard the truth. That he cared. That he was afraid too.
And now I’m sitting in this car, holding the hand of the boy I once ran from and the man I don’t know if I can run toward, wondering if I can trust him now.
Exhaustion weighs on me. No one tells you how heavy the burden isto protect yourself. And maybe that’s the problem. Maybe trust is like love, not something you guard, but something you offer. Grounded not in certainty but in faith.
“Yes,” I whisper, and I’m surprised by how much I mean it.
A second of silence passes, and Ben’s expression shifts from surprise to relief. He gives my hand another squeeze before releasing it and pointing ahead.
“See that barn? That’s where we’re headed.”
The barn he’s indicating is a dilapidated structure with peeling paint and half a roof. There’s a tractor on the side that’s nearly buried by overgrown grass and weeds. And the kind of place theDatelinenarrator would call“remote, eerily quiet... and the last place she was seen alive.”
“Trust me, Cybil.”
I take a steadying breath and accelerate toward the barn. My tires bump over the cattle crossing bars and I’m surprised to see a small farmhouse tucked behind the barn. It’s invisible from the road. It looks dark and empty. Have I just made the worst mistake of my life?
“She was blinded by old attraction and a charming jawline.”
