Page 77 of Daring You

21

Ben

For the secondtime this week, I’m in front of a building that might as well deny me any entry.

But I don’t know what else to do.

After the courthouse, I tried going to Locke first and pretending to fall into my old life—I mean, new life—I mean, I don’t know what the fuck I mean anymore—

All I want is to be Ben Donahue, record-breaking wide receiver on his off season, hanging with his best bud and honorary niece.

Lily almost worked. How could she not, with that pixie face and slobbery lips that pucker up every time she sees me?

I held her, felt her warmth, and thought of innocence.

This baby is solely dependent on other people to keep her safe. She needs help to understand the concept of love in order to become a strong, independent, kind woman I know she’ll be.

All those things that were so callously taken away from me before I was old enough to store anything but the cold murder of my biological parents.

In seeing Lily, I witnessed my old self, what I was deprived of, and Locke could tell.

“Buddy, cheer up,” he said as he rounded the cushioned ottoman in his apartment, spackled and stained with various toddler substances these days.

“I’m cheered,” I said off-hand.

“Bullshit.”

“Whatever. I didn’t come here to talk to you. I came here to get some chubby baby-ness in my life and maybe steal some of Ash’s muffins I see in your kitchen.”

“Help yourself,” Locke said, leaning back with a Coke. “To both.”

That’s what I love about the guy. He doesn’t press.

Though, I kinda wished he would’ve at that point. Lily was chatting with her dolls in between bashing their heads on the floor, Carter was hanging out with Astor, doing the work I should be doing, and I had the sudden urge to expel everything polluting my insides.

I’m not who I say I am.

I slept with your sister in college.

I slept with her again this afternoon.

She’s representing my parents’ killers.

She hates me, and I should hate her.

You’re definitely going to hate me.

But Locke isn’t my anti-venom. If anything, I’d only manage to transfer my disease onto him, killing our friendship with my lies about Astor, severing ties with Lily—my one true love—and roping him in on a murder whose network of killers are still very active.

Ah, fuck. I am so, so, goddamned tired.

“Eat a muffin, dude,” Locke said through the fog. “You’re not yourself.”

“Yeah,” I replied, and left it at that.

I ate my muffin. Kissed Lily who picked the crumbs out of my scruff, and left my friend as clueless as he was when I arrived.

Except, I didn’t go home.

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