Page 33 of Every Broken Thing

My chest warmed at the protective tone they adopted as they defended me, but they painted me in a better light than was accurate. Sure, Eli was kind of a dick, but I knew what I was getting myself into with him. I wasn’t innocent; no one ever was.

“How long did they date?” Ben’s tone sounded nonchalant, and I entered the room, giving Kim a glare as I answered his question.

“Almost a year, though technically we weren’t dating,” I supplied, sitting down opposite a curious, albeit confused, Ben, and I explained, “He made it clear right away that we weren’t together, so he wasn’t actually my boyfriend.”

Kim huffed and shook her head, her curls shaking from the movement. “He was an asshole, and you deserved better. You shouldn’t be anyone’s booty call.”

I shrugged as I fiddled with a few stalks of fake flowers on the table. “I knew what I was getting into.”

“You didn’t know about Sam,” Caroline sang, and I cringed, wishing we could leave him out of the conversation.

“Who’s Sam?” Ben’s blue eyes x-rayed me from across the table.

I licked my lips as I fought the ashamed blush crawling over my neck. “Uh, Sam was Eli’s boyfriend, hence why I wasn’t.”

The table went awkwardly quiet, and when I finally lifted my gaze, Ben’s frustrated stare zeroed in on me. “He cheated on you for a year?”

I laughed mirthlessly. “Didn’t you hear what I said? I was the cheater.”

“Not if you didn’t know about it,” he countered, and I shifted in my chair, plucking the fake leaves from the vine Kim had so studiously glued together. “If you thought you were exclusive—”

“We weren’t exclusive, and I knew that going in. He was very clear from the get-go that we were just hooking up. Don’t sugarcoat it to make me sound better.”

I never wanted to lie about who I was. It didn’t change the past or the choices I made back then. Why hide it? I would rather he hear it from me than believe a lie to save face. But I never wanted to see that expression on his face again.

“You cared about him,” Kim piped in, taking my focus from Ben’s pinched features as I shot her a scathing glare. “Don’t give me that look, Silas, you know I’m right. You cared about him, and he took advantage of that. He cheated on his boyfriend, not you, and when you found out, you broke things off. You don’t have to sugarcoat things, but you shouldn’t paint it worse either.”

I shook my head bitterly. “You already said it. I was his booty call.”

I knew from the start it was nothing but sex, but what I did to Sam still burned me. I wasn’t good with emotional shit, and relationships were uncharted territory. But I would never willingly screw someone by fucking their boyfriend. I wasn’t a completely unfeeling bastard.

“You didn’t know about the boyfriend, so it wasn’t your fault,” Ben spoke decidedly, his voice gentle, and I searched his face.

Blue eyes dissected me too for several seconds, and I allowed it. I didn’t know what he saw or what he would find at the end of his search, but I would let him explore. I hoped he would be satisfied, not horrified, by whatever he discovered in my eyes. When he finally finished his perusal, he smiled softly, pleased with what he’d found.

I wanted to ask him what he saw when he looked at me, but I was too afraid of the answer. I didn’t want to know if he saw how ruined I really was. I didn’t need him to pick up my broken pieces, but I didn’t want him to shy away from them either. Maybe I needed him to bear witness to my wreckage and not flee from it. It was probably too much to ask.

A shrill ringing broke the moment between us as his eyes lowered to his pocket, releasing me from their spell, and I slowly exhaled. Ben was calm and soothing, funny and a little quirky at times, but he was also intense. A turbulence existed in the icy ocean of his eyes; it sucked me in and threatened to drown me, but I wasn’t afraid. I would gladly sink, knowing his demons couldn’t be worse than mine.

He frowned at his cell, rising from the table and shuffling to stand near the wall as he spoke in hushed tones. I watched him, wanting to allow him some privacy but unable to grant it as his body stiffened and concern etched itself across his face. He turned his back to us, his shoulders tight as his whispersdeepened with urgency. As worry swirled in my gut, I tried to focus on the conversation at the table, but my attention jumped back to Ben.

After a few minutes, he sighed, and slipping his phone into his pocket, he walked over to our table. “I gotta go, sorry.”

I stood, studying his anxious expression. “Is everything okay?” I asked quietly as I walked him to the door. “Is someone—”

“Everything’s fine.” He cut me off with uncharacteristic rudeness, and I tucked my hands into my pockets to keep from reaching out to him. Normally, I was the rude one brushing off his concern. The strange turnabout was disconcerting.

“Okay.”

Ben grimaced, clearly apologetic for his short reply. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay,” I repeated as he jerked his head in a short nod.

He turned to leave as his jaw ticked a mile a minute, and my hand moved on its own accord, my fingers wrapping around his forearm. I opened my mouth wanting to say something to help but having no clue what words to use.

“Let me know if you need anything,” I said eventually, and a grateful smile flitted over his face so quickly I almost missed it.

“Thanks, Si.”

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