Page 41 of The Best You've Ever Had

“I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but I heard you on the phone.”

Racking my brain, I try to think of what he may have heard. I’m drawing a blank however, and blame it entirely on the fact that my mind veered off track the second he walked into the room shirtless.

“Do you feel stuck here?” he continues.

My stomach drops because I know how it must’ve sounded when I said that. Like I want to get out of here, but I’m trapped in this small town out of obligation to spend the holiday with our families. And in a way, that’s true. At first, the only reason I came back to this place—a constant reminder of my shitty father—was for my mother and Ben’s grandpa. But now that I’m here, everything feels different. I’ve seen that I’ve let my dad win because I stayed away. I let him have power over me, because I chose to only see the bad when there is so much good to focus on instead. But the main reason I’ve enjoyed my time here is all because of Ben. I’ve found out that someone can light up those frozen parts of me that I kept locked away. The ones that had lay dormant all those years, untouchable and prickly to anyone that even tried to come near.

“I know how it sounded…”

“Lay, you don’t have to explain.”

When I turn to look at him, he appears his normal easygoing self, but worry traces the corners of his eyes. He’d never admit it, but he’s nervous. Maybe even a little hurt. And I did that to him. We spent years trying to damage each other. Now, hurting him is the last thing I’d ever want. In fact, I’d hunt down anyone who even thought about hurting a single hair on his unfairly perfect head.

With an overwhelming need to ease his worries, I climb into his lap, nestling my head into the crook of his neck and shoulder.“Because ofyou, I don’t feel stuck here. I actually don’t want to leave because that means leaving you too.”

He pulls back, looking into my eyes. “Tell me what you want.”

“You, Ben. I want you.”

In the same breath, his mouth finds mine. This time, it’s different. Slow and lazy, filled with trust that feels warm and steady, melting away years of insecurity. It’s genuine, untouched by the mess of our fake dating attempt. And it’s not holding back anymore, revealing our most vulnerable selves.

He pulls away, holding me by the chin, kissing me between words. “In case I didn’t make it perfectly clear, I want you too. Not just now, but always.” Then he dives back in, picking up where we left off. Time moves both fast and slow as we get completely lost in each other, sitting in this rickety kitchen chair.

But now, instead of arguing, he tells me to get on my knees. And instead of resisting, I tell him to do whatever he wants with me.

When we’re all said and done, I surprise myself by suggesting we set up the forgotten Christmas tree that still resides in his garage. He agrees, and before I know it, I’m decorating a tree for the first time in over a decade.

Another layer is peeled away, and another hurt begins to heal.

“All of your ornaments are horrifically adorable,” I say, holding up a crushed can covered in glitter with googly eyes. “I have no idea what I’m even looking at here. Is this just fancy garbage disguised as an ornament?”

He snatches it from my hands and places it at the highest point of the tree, out of my reach. “I’m not sure if I shouldtake that as a compliment or an insult. But I’ll pretend it’s a compliment.”

I squint, inspecting its hideous charm as it hangs on the pre-lit branch. “What is it even supposed to be?”

“It’s a can that looks like it’s caroling. Made it in elementary school. It’s a Brooks’ Christmas staple,” he says matter-of-factly, placing another ornament too close to the previous one.

“It has character, that’s for sure,” I reply. As soon as his back is turned, I discreetly move one of the too-close ornaments down a branch to maintain the tree’s symmetry. Although at this point, I’m not sure anything can save this tree’s aesthetic.

As I reach to hang the next ornament—a reindeer made of popsicle sticks—I feel his arms wrap around my waist. He pulls me close, nipping at the cartilage of my ear. “Are my tree-decorating skills making the perfectionist in you regret this?”

“It’s definitely helping me grow as a person.” I smile, turning to face him. “But it’s worth it.”

His forehead rests against mine, and I close my eyes, savoring the way my chest buzzes in response to him.

“So what’s next?” he asks.

“I don’t know. Should we be wild and turn on a Christmas movie?”

“I don’t mean for today. I mean for when you have to go back home. For the future. How do we make this work? Because I really fucking want this to work.”

“We can do long distance. It’s not ideal, but we can give it a try at the very least.”

He hums in thought, the sound vibrating through me with the possibilities. “Don’t freak out at this suggestion, but I have an idea. If you’re open to it.”

“You can’t start a sentence with ‘don’t freak out’ and not expect me to at least freak out atinybit.”

“Okay, let me rephrase. Don’t run straight out that door. Freaking out a little is allowed.” He threads his fingers through my hair, tilting my face so I look into his eyes. They’re dark, like the deep night sky, sparkling under the lights of the tree. “How would you feel if I moved to the city?”

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