Page 15 of Standing Still

“But you’ve lived here. George’s is your family legacy.”

“You’ve just said it yourself, Ben. For six months I have to live here? And do what?”

He shrugs. “Couldn’t it, like, give you inspiration, some peace and quiet away from the big city? Don’t writers like that kind of thing.”

“I was never as creative here as I am there.”

“So, what are you saying?”

“Put yourself in my shoes,” I implore.

“Oh, yeah, why don’t I do that? I could afford to give up my livelihood because I’m rolling in it. So much so, I can turn down my inheritance.”

“That is not why I turned it down and you know it.”

“So you’re still going to blame Acer for everything?”

“Do all of your family still live here?” I ask, the change of topic momentarily surprising him.

“Yeah, why?”

“You have an amazing family Ben, four brothers you love, amazing parents who would do anything for you. People who would cut off a limb if you needed it. There isnothinghere for me. There could have been. We were all the other had, but hegot so lost in his own problems over what happened that he forgot all about me. He pushed me away, and he never didanythingto make me come back. Now he’s dead, he thinks he can play with my life?”

Ben holds out his hands and I suddenly realize people are looking over at us. I’ve been steadily letting my voice get louder. His eyes have softened slightly. A lot of the time, when I still lived here, it was Ben I turned to when my father broke my heart. Back then, he’d hated him as much as I did. What the hell changed?

“Yelling at each other isn’t going to get us anywhere,” Ben says. “Would it be that bad, coming back here?”

“Yes.” I drop my eyes to my hands in my lap.

“Because of me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

He smirks, and his lip twitches slightly. “I’m hard to get over.”

“I’m sure you have managed to have plenty of people over you,” I huff.

His smirk grows into a grin. His dimples show and I give him the stink eye. The server arrives with our food, eyeing us to make sure we’re not about to start yelling again. She places the food in front of us, asks if we need anything else, then gets out of their sharpish. The food looks and smells delicious.

“Fresh catch,” Ben tells me.

“Yours I presume?”

“Craig is a customer, yeah. As are a lot of the restaurants around here.”

I hear that dig loud and clear. If George’s goes out of business, these companies are going to struggle to get their seafood, especially if more of them fold if Day Away gets their hooks into any more of them.

“Craig is an amazing chef, but the guy he has here is legendary. Try it.”

I try some of my pan-fried flounder, making sure to get some lemon sauce on the bite. A low moan escapes me at my firstmouthful, and I notice Ben’s fork stop halfway to his mouth as he looks up at me. My chest flushes, but he just continues to stare.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing,” he grunts and shovels some rice from his dish into his mouth, as if it’s just told him he’s an ass and challenged him to a fight.

I’m sure I hear him curse under his breath and I get the feeling it has nothing to do with the topic of our conversation and everything to do with the moan of complete ecstasy I just made.

Chapter Eight

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