Page 31 of Trial Run

“I don’t. I haven’t, not once since I got divorced. I have a rule.” She touched her fingers to her mouth, as if remembering the kiss.

“I’m sure you have good reasons for the rule.”

“I did. I do.” She turned to face him, her expression conflicted. “But I liked kissing you.”

A shiver went through him. “I liked it too.”

A little smile turned the corner of her mouth up. “I could kind of tell. But we can’t. It’s not a good idea for me.”

“I’m not trying to change your mind. But I would like to know why.”

He’d expected her to pull away from him at that, but instead, she reached out and put a hand on top of his, where it rested between them on the couch.

“Are you sure you want to hear this?”

He might not want to hear it, if the story involved her getting hurt. But she deserved for someone to hear it. It was one thing he could do for her.

“I’m a very good listener.”

Chapter 9

The problem with opening up to someone a little bit was that it led to telling them even more. The parts of herself she’d guarded so carefully were about to be exposed, but after that kiss, it didn’t seem like such a big deal anymore.

She’d hugged Ben on impulse, and she definitely hadn’t meant to kiss him, but there was no denying her reaction, not with aftershocks still shivering through her. If they ever did more than that, she might not survive it.

She’d found him attractive from the start, but there’d been no connection between that feeling and the idea anything could happen between them in real life. He was off limits, like all men. She’d wanted to help him. But maybe she’d also just … wanted him.

And now she was about to tell him the story she hadn’t told anyone before, because after Mom died, there’d been no one to tell it to. There were reasons she’d avoided this conversation, hadn’t let herself say the words aloud. This would hurt. After years of being mostly numb, she’d let herself feel something, and this was the result.

“I’m not sure where to start.” She paused, took a breath, and felt Ben’s fingers contract, giving her hand a light squeeze. “You already know I left school to get married, after Mom died.”

“Yes, we talked about that part.” Ben stayed quiet, letting her pick through the words she wanted to say next.

“When I didn’t have Mom anymore, I was kind of lost. I was twenty-one, but still a kid in a lot of ways. I felt like an orphan. I barely made it to any of my classes that semester, my grades were awful, and I had no social life. I’d worked so hard to get to college, because I wanted to make her proud. And she was. So proud of me. Then she was gone, and I couldn’t figure out why I was doing any of it.”

Ben nodded. “Understandable. You were grieving.”

“I was, but I didn’t realize how much it would affect every part of my life. I didn’t know how long the process would take, either. When I met Kurt—my ex-husband—I was directionless. And he took charge of everything. He made it easy, because I didn’t have to make any decisions. He decided everything, and I could just do what he said.”

“Decisions about what?” Ben’s tone remained mild, but he sat up straighter next to her.

“About everything. But mostly small stuff at first. Where we went to dinner, what clothes I wore. When I enrolled for the next semester, he helped me pick my classes. I thought it was nice at first. That it showed how much he cared for me.”

She took a deep inhale. “But he also criticized me a lot. I never did anything well enough for him. I was late, or clumsy, or my hair was messy, or I didn’t clean my dorm room enough. Like I said, little stuff at first.”

Ben’s brows came down. “He’s the one who made you think bad things about yourself. The other day, when you said you don’t have any skills. That’s where that came from.”

She nodded. “I guess, when someone criticizes you all the time, part of you starts to believe it. Anyway, he was the one who told me to quit school. He said my grades were bad, and I couldn’t focus, so why not stop? So I did what he said. I was so stupid.”

“You were not,” Ben said, his tone heated. “You were doing the best you could, while someone took advantage of your weakness.”

“I didn’t think of it like that.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt you. But I can’t let you call yourself stupid in the context of this story.”

No one had ever stood up for her. Not back then, and not since. The fact that Ben was standing up for the past version of her soothed some of the ache of reliving the memory. And he was angry, yes, but angry on her behalf. He’d never take out his anger on her, and that gave her the courage to keep going.

“Anyway. He said a degree wouldn’t help me out much anyway. He wanted to work and take care of me and our kids. And I did want a family. So much. I missed Mom, and I thought starting a family of my own should be my priority. It made sense at the time. But I was so naive. Why didn’t I see what was happening?”

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