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“I had obligations that kept me home.”
“And I left home as soon as I could to pursue my passion. I left my brother—who was going through his own shit with a bitch of an ex—to work day in and day out to settle the family business, which was not his responsibility.”
“He chose that, Ben.”
“He wouldn't have, given the option.”
“You don’t know that.” He looks away, and just like he did, I use a hand to pull his face to mine, to look at me. “We all make decisions. I made mine. You made yours. But, Ben, no one held a gun to his head and forced him to work your family’s business.” He mulls the thought over but doesn’t agree still.
“He’s loyal. To the family. You’re loyal to yours. I went out and did my own thing.”
“You have your family’s logo tattooed over your heart, Ben.” Stillness. “That’s not a coincidence.”
“Tattoos rarely are.” I roll my eyes.
“You know what I mean.” I sigh when he doesn’t answer. “If he called you right now and said he needed your help with the business, how would you respond?” He continues to stare at the wall.
“I had a man corner me in my business, and you shut your shop down, canceled appointments, and refused to leave my side. I know exactly how you would respond.” He doesn’t answer, and I don’t think he’s willing to accept any kind of empathy.
I know the feeling.
So instead, I continue.
“Still, he sounds happy from what you said. Sounds like he likes what he’s doing now, even if it wasn’t his original plan. He found a girl that makes him happy, right? I don’t know him, but I wouldn’t say he resents you.”
“Yeah,” he says but doesn’t look at me or add to the conversation. He’s not convinced.
“Does he come down here?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
“He loves you then,” I say with surety. “He wouldn’t make the trip knowing you won’t come up if he didn’t love you.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“I mean, I wouldn’t blame him if he hated you. You’re annoying as hell,” I say with a smile, poking him with a foot. Funny how I thought I would be ending this conversation caught in my head, embarrassed or ashamed, but I’m here trying to cheer upBen.
“Keep telling yourself that, sweet girl.” I roll my eyes, avoiding the truth of his statement, and take another sip of my beer. “I’m supposed to go home,” he says when the room is quiet for a bit. “My brother planned a big party for my mom’s birthday.” His finger rounds the edge of the beer bottle he grabbed off a coffee table, lost in his own mind.
“And?”
“I haven’t been home, not really, since I left for school.”
“But . . . you see your family, right?”
“Yeah. They come down here. Here? It’s safe. If my dad starts anything, I can leave. If I feel uncomfortable, I have excuses. If I go to Springbrook Hills, I’m . . . I’m there. I’m stuck there.”
“That makes sense.” He looks up at me, shocked. “Lilah moved out of town for the same reason. Our dad can’t bother her if she’s not in town.” He keeps staring at me, still mulling before he sighs, flopping back onto the couch.
“I’m a shit son.”
“No, you’re not. Your mom wanted you to chase your dreams. She made that happen.” He doesn’t look at me. “Does she bug you about it? Guilt you?”
“No. Never. Except this—she wants me to come home for it. She won’t give me shit out right, but she wants that. I know. And so does Tanner.” I can see the guilt in his eyes.
“Have you made your decision yet? If you’re gonna go?” His head tips back, looking at the ceiling.
“I know I should. I blocked off the weekend for appointments.”
