Page 128 of If Only In Our Dreams

Again, proving that just like I’d suspected, he really fucking paid attention.

“It’s a good kind of quiet,” I replied, relaxing my grip enough that he could twist and press a fluttery kiss against my palm.

“Yeah?” Ben’s voice was low and softer than snowflakes.

“Yeah,” I agreed, my own voice just as husky. “It’s like…for the first time in my life I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.” My heart skipped a beat, and my eyes burned. “And I’m…enjoying it. Being here—with you.”

It might be the only time I had this.

Except…now that we were here—I didn’t think I could stomach that anymore.

A life without Ben Montgomery was not a life at all.

He was the click of a metronome. He was C major. He was lilting notes and revelation. He made my world quiver and shake, like the last tremulous notes of a love song. He was peace and longing, and happiness, all rolled into one tall, serious, but kind man.

With his sweaters. And his chocolate chip pancakes. And his daughters, who he was so,sogood with. With his snort laughs. With his gentle hands. With his brilliant, wicked brain. And the way he could bring me higher than anyone ever had before, but held me when I was at my lowest just as easily.

Ben was the kind of man who deserved sacrifices.

He was the kind of man who deserved to bechosen. To be chased. To be cherished. Bright as the winter mornings I’d seen in the Christmas movies I’d grown up coveting. He was childlike laughter, tearing open wrapping paper, and home—idealized in one, lovely, cologne-wearing person.

“I don’t think I was ever happy till I met you,” I admitted, voice cracking down the middle. “Like the ‘me’ from before, and what I felt, was duller somehow.”

“Robin,” Ben’s voice was low and crackling with warmth. And yet his eyes were warmer. He curled me in close, our wine glasses clinking.

“No,” I interrupted him, for once in my life not overthinking what would happen next, or who I was, or who I needed to be. “I need to finish.”

Ben nodded, watching me with such affection it normally would’ve made me freak out. But right then—I wasn’t afraid. I wasn’t afraid of losing him. Because right then there was nothing in the world but us, the lights below us, and this moment—and how precious it felt.

“I’ve never brought anyone here,” I told him, voice serious for once. “Not even Miles.”

Ben nodded.

“I see the way you look at me,” I added, heart thumping erratically. “I’d be blind not to.”

Again, Ben nodded.

“You’ve been so patient.” My eyes were burning. “And I just…want you to know that this—this thing we have—is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” I gestured between us. “And I…” I wanted to tell him I loved him. I wanted to so badly, but the words still wouldn’t come. “I can’t imagine my life without you.” That was better, right? Closer.

Closer than I’d ever gotten to being truly vulnerable.

“You know that scene in your book?” I added, palms slick with sweat. “Beckett.” Ben nodded. “I told you when we met about the part when Beckett left his pack and his brothers behind.” Ben nodded a third time, kind as ever. “And we made our deal.” I sucked in a breath. “I always thought…I always thought that was like me, you know?”

Ben made a quiet sound, urging me to continue, but he didn’t speak. My giant, silent teddy bear.

“I always thought—everyone was better off without me. That I…have a tendency to complicate things.” I bit my lip, piercing clinking. “And when I read about Beckett I thought—here’s a guy who gets it. A guy who understands what it’s like to put the safety of the ones he loves above himself, even if it means he ends up alone.”

Ben’s eyes were encouraging.

They said, go ahead.

They said,I’m listening.

They said,it’s okay.

“I think your book broke me a bit,” I admitted. “I was on tour. Sat in my bunk and blubbered like a baby for like an hour till Nancy came to get me for dinner.” My lips twisted into a wry little smile. “It was the first time I really felt seen, you know?”

This was a different kind of communication.

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