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“I have to think about it,” I whisper, wondering if meeting with Greg will finally put my demons to rest, and I might be able to fix the mess I made with Ben. Instinctively, I look around the room, but Ben’s gone.
My heart hurts.
“Thank you, Juniper.”
“That doesn’t mean that I’m saying yes, Greg. It just means I’ll think about it.”
“That’s all I’m asking. We’ll be in New Hampshire Tuesday to set up and do rehearsals. I’ll check back then. Is that okay?”
“It’s fine. I have to go now.”
I don’t give Greg time to respond. I hang up. I stare at my phone, which is shaking in my hold for a long time after that. Then, I think about actually coming face to face with him after all this time. I stand up so quickly the chair scrapes against the floor and tips over, falling with a clang. I run to the bathroom, barely making it in time. I thank God that Karen has clean restrooms, because I fall on the floor after the contents of my stomach are emptied, letting the wall hold me up.
God help me, am I really going to agree to see Greg again? Will meeting the devil once more truly help me sort through my head and fix things with Ben? Can I do it? Am I even strong enough?
All I have are questions.
Ben
Imiss her all the time. The worst is late at night, when the house is quiet and I’m in bed, but Junie’s not here. I ache for her. I’ve never known anything like it. But until Junie, I’ve never really loved like this before either. Suddenly I understand what all those fucking whiney songs were about that I used to roll my eyes at. This is heartbreak.Heartache.Hell, I can’t even stand to close my eyes because the minute I do, I see her face.
I roll out of the bed, giving up all pretenses that I’m going to sleep tonight. The most I’ve managed since walking out of Junie’s house is a couple of hours. If I’m lucky three, but I always wake up with her name on my lips. Danny says I need to get laid and fuck Junie out of my system. That’s not even a damn option. My dick feels as dead as the rest of me. It’s not another woman I want.
It’s Junie.
I grab my cell from the nightstand and go into the spare room. I’ve turned it into a weight room. When I bought the place, I thought it would make a great nursery because it was right off the master. I never realized that kind of life I dreamed about, saved for, sweated for… wouldn’t be what I’d get.
Tossing my cell to the small table beside my bench, I sit down. I lie back, reach my arms up, locking my hands around the iron bar, pulling it toward me, centering it over me, then breathing deep. I lift it up all the way, holding it there while counting backwards in my head, and then bringing it down. I repeat the motion over and over. The repetition numbing my brain. I don’t know how many reps I’ve done. I’m sweating, my breathing labored, but I still keep pushing it, even though my arms are aching. I have no rhyme or reason, just knowing that if I do it enough maybe I’ll be too exhausted to dream about Junie later.
Finally, when I know I’ve pushed it as far as I can—much farther than I should—I return the weight back to the support with a large clanging noise. I sit up, grabbing the small hand towel on the table. I’m wiping the sweat from my neck and back when my cell goes off. I find myself praying it’s a call—anything to keep me from going back to bed alone. I pick it up without looking, there’s no point, the only people who would call this late would be from work.
“This is Kingston,” I mumble into the phone, wondering if I can take a shower before I have to head out. It’s not like Stone Lake usually has a rash of calls this late. If we do, it’s usually domestic disturbance. Things thankfully have settled down since the whole mess with Atticus.
“Hey, Ben.”
Fuck. Oh, Fuck.
My head goes down as I hear Junie say my name. I pinch the bridge of my nose, waiting for my heartbeat to return to normal.
“Uh… Are you there?”
I clear my throat. “Yeah, I’m here.” I don’t say anything else. Shit, I don’t know what else to say.
“I know it’s late,” she murmurs, nerves threaded in her voice. I automatically look to the wall where a clock is hanging. Two in the morning. Not sure that’s late, probably more like early.
“Yeah,” I respond, still unable to form a complete sentence apparently.
“Were you… I mean if you were sleeping, I can always call back…”
“I wasn’t sleeping, Junie,” I tell her, suddenly so damn tired that I feel it all the way to my soul.
“I don’t want to interrupt anything…”
“What would you be interrupting at two in the morning, Junie?” I suddenly find that I can use complete sentences. It just takes her pissing me off. We both know what she’s afraid of interrupting, I just want her to say it.
“Ben…”
“Are you seriously doing this right now, Junie?”
