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He turns to Ben. “I won’t warn you again.”
Ben glares at him, fists clenched at his sides as if restraining himself. He’s breathing deeply as adrenaline burns through his body.
I take Eric’s hand and we walk around the building as they all watch on in complete silence.
“I need to get my bag,” I tell Eric quietly.
He nods, and we walk up the steps, his hand resting gently on my waist.
I go straight to the table and grab my things, then Eric and I leave.
As we drive away I look up to the side of the building, and see Ben’s haunted face as he watches me leave with my boyfriend. Joshua, Tash, Brock, and Adrian are all with him.
He looks so sad, and I know he has nobody to blame but himself, but damn, why do I feel like the guilty one? I’ve done nothing wrong. Why do I feel like shit?
“You’re staying at my house tonight,” Eric says flatly as he turns the corner.
Rain starts to fall in heavy drops and the windscreen wipers automatically come on.
I stare at the windscreen through my tears. Does he think Ben will show up tonight while he’s at work?
Maybe I should go home, then…
I hope Ben’s okay.
Guilt hits me hard in the stomach. I shouldn’t be caring what happens to Ben.
God, what a mess.
I drop my head back to the headrest and concentrate on not blubbering like a baby.
I lie in the dark and watch the shadows from the television dance on the wall.
It’s 4:00 a.m.
I keep seeing Ben’s sad face when I was driving out with Eric. I know it shouldn’t bother me and I know I shouldn’t care.
But I do.
How do you hurt someone you care about… even when they don’t deserve for you to care anymore?
I can’t switch it off.
I keep going over that last night we were together, when he came to say goodbye.
“I look at you like I want you…” He pauses and clenches his hands at his sides. “…because I do,” he whispers. “You have no idea how badly I want you, Bridget… how hard it is to stay away.”
What did he mean when he said it was hard to stay away?
Why did he have to stay away?
I’ve thought about this a lot over the years, and I still don’t understand what he meant. I think back again.
He runs his thumb over my cheekbone as he studies my face. “I have a past, Didge. One that I don’t ever want to catch up with you,” he replies sadly. “I won’t bring that into your life.”
I shake my head. “What are you talking about? We all have a past. We can work it out together, Ben.”
“Goodbye, Bridget,” he whispers sadly. He stands, and I grab his wrist.
“No. Don’t go,” I beg as I lose control. “Don’t leave me. I love you.”
He bends, and kisses me gently. “Remember me with love, angel.”
I stare at him through my tears.
“I love you,” he whispers.
He has a past, one that he doesn’t want to catch up with me. What the hell did he mean by that? Did he mean his military life? Why would he think a past in the military is going to impact me?
It just doesn’t make any sense. I go back to his words from the other night.
“I was coming back for you sooner, but things worked out harder than I thought.”
“What things?”
“My work.”
“Fuck’s sake, Ben,” I snap, exasperated as I pull from his grip. “Speak English.”
“I want another chance.”
He said he wanted another chance. Is that why he came back after all this time?
I sit up and flick the bedside lamp on. I turn on my side and stare at the wall as I go over and over the wedding tonight, and what we said to each other.
I pick up my phone and stare at it for a while, with my mind in overdrive.
I wonder, did he go out tonight with Cam and Brock?
It’s 4:30 a.m.
I scroll through my messages between us from Friday night, and before I can stop myself I have typed out the message.
Are you awake?
I hit send before my brain catches up with my fingers. Oh no, what the hell am I doing?
My phone instantly rings and the name Ben lights up the screen.
Shit. My heart starts to race in my chest.
I pick up. “Hello,” I whisper into the darkness.
“Hi.”
My eyes close at the sound of his beautiful voice.
We both stay silent, and I twist the blankets between my fingers in the dark.
“Are you okay?” he asks softly.
I get a lump in my throat. “Yes,” I whisper back, although I’m really not sure.
“Are you?” I ask.
The line stays silent until he eventually replies, “Not really.”
My heart drops and I frown. “Why?”
“Because I want to be there with you,” he whispers.
The lump in my throat gets really big, and my eyes fill with tears because, damn, if this isn’t a mess. The closeness that we always had is still there between us. It’s tangible. If he hurts, I hurt. I stay silent for a moment as I try to think of an intelligent reply.
