Page 63 of Between Here and There

Emily

Inever thought there would come a time that I’d talk about Ben Davids to anyone. I swore to keep it to myself. But Joshua is not just anyone. I’ve come to accept it.

When I was ten years old, I remember scraping my knee riding my bike. It was painful, and I was left crying on the sidewalk. That same moment, Joshua arrived, and he helped me up. He brought me home to my parents and repaired my bike’s broken wheel. When I was twelve, I had my first period and it stained my skirt. I was in school, waiting for my parents to pick me up, when they told me they couldn’t because my sister needed to go to the hospital. So they asked me to ride with Bon as Joshua picked us up. In a state of panic, I told Josh about my situation. He arrived with a pack of pads and a change of clothes he got from Bon’s wardrobe. When I was thirteen, I had a date with my crush. My dad had just passed, and my mother thought the date would be good for my grief. But she wouldn’t allow me to go without a chaperone. So Joshua came with me. He talked me through my first date. What I should expect, what I shouldn’t do. After the date—it was horrible—he got me free ice cream to cheer me up.

I’m sure if I dig into my brain, there are more moments like that. All those times, Josh was like an older brother to me. I didn’t worry about anything when he was there. Even then, he became a safe space I didn’t know I had.

And now, when things are once again becoming too much for me to bear, when the pain is in my heart and not just on my knee, he’s still the person I unknowingly sought. Even now, as I sit here looking at him, I know that when I finish talking to him, everything will feel a little bit more manageable.

He’s sitting in front of me, waiting for me to start talking. We’re both cross-legged, and I scoot closer.

“Alright.” I take a breath, my voice barely steady. “It happened one night when I was working late.” I begin quietly, and suddenly, I’m there again.

“Ben stayed behind with me. I thought he had work too, so I didn’t think much of it.” I pause, my throat tightening as the words line up like stones, heavy and unwelcome. “But after a few minutes, he called me into his office.”

Joshua says nothing, but I feel his eyes on me, steady and waiting. His presence holds me together, but it doesn’t stop the chill that creeps up my spine as the memory claws its way back.

“He said—” I swallow hard, my pulse thundering in my ears. “He said, and I remember his exact words, ‘Alright, I already rolled down the blinds. Should I take my clothes off, or are you gonna do it for me?’”

Josh’s head snaps toward me, sharp and sudden, but I can’t look at him. My gaze stays fixed on the floor, my fingernails pressing into my palms as if I can anchor myself there. He senses this, like he always does, and puts his hand in mine.

“I… I didn’t understand at first. I thought it was a joke, a bad one. But he wasn’t laughing. And then he told me—” I stop, a tear slipping down my cheek before I realize it. Josh moves instantly, his thumb brushing it away, but it only makes the rest fall faster.

“He said the only reason he hired me was because I was pretty,” I whisper, the word ‘pretty’ tasting like acid on my tongue. “And that if I were smart, I’d know the real way to climb the corporate ladder was to—”

The words snag in my throat like barbed wire. I take a breath, shaky and shallow. “—to ride every guy who blocked my path.”

The silence after that feels deafening. Joshua’s grip on my hand tightens, steady and sure, but his jaw flexes, his muscles tight under his skin. I don’t need to look at him to know he’s furious. Not at me, butforme.

“I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t,” I continue, my voice trembling now. “He got up. He moved toward me. I stepped back, but—” I break off, shaking my head as the memory sharpens, vivid and unrelenting. “He grabbed my arm. So tight. Like he’d been waiting for that moment.”

I close my eyes, the feeling of Ben’s fingers pressing into my skin flashing through me like phantom pain. I force myself to look up, and Josh is still watching me—jaw clenched, chest rising and falling in measured breaths like he’s holding back something.

“He called me stupid,” I murmur. “Told me I’d regret it. And he was going to try again, but then—” I exhale sharply, like the relief I felt that night resurfaces all at once. “Then his phone rang. He had to meet a client at a bar named Celeste. I remember because the name stuck with me. And all I could think about was how grateful I was for whoever called him. Like they’d saved me without even knowing it.”

I fall silent. My fingers fidget in Josh’s grasp, but he doesn’t let go. If anything, his hold is firmer, his thumb brushing slow, calming circles against my skin. I risk a glance at him, and what I see catches me off guard: anger, yes, but also something deeper. A fierce protectiveness, a sorrow that feels like he’s carrying some of the hurt for me.

There’s a charged silence between us now, heavy and thick, as if he’s about to say something he’s holding back.

Then, softly, he says, “Em… that client he met that night? That was me. I was the one who called him.”

My heart stops. The air feels like it’s been sucked from the tent as I stare at him, trying to understand what he’s just said.

“You?” My voice is barely more than a whisper.

He nods, his face taut with regret. “I was the one who called him to Celeste that night. I didn’t know. I had no idea. If I did, I would have let him pay.”

My mind is spinning, the weight of it all settling around us like an invisible fog. All this time, I thought that call was some distant, faceless miracle, some cosmic intervention that got Ben out of there and left me safe. But it wasn’t. It was Josh—sitting here with me, holding my hand, looking at me like he’d do anything to erase that night if he could.

“Have you told anyone else about this?” Josh asks after a few minutes.

“Rob,” I snort. “I thought maybe he’d understand. But he just said I should’ve expected it, that he’d warned me about New York. Said it was my own fault for ignoring his advice and coming at all,” I say.

“That’s bullshit,” he says, the words low and sharp, anger bleeding through his voice. He shifts closer, his gaze searching mine, unwavering. “I wish I’d known. I wish I could have been there for you that night.” His voice softens, the words breaking like a promise. “I never would’ve let you gone through that alone.”

Something inside me cracks at the sincerity in his voice. He means it—I can see it in the way his eyes don’t waver, the way he’s holding my hand.

He shifts so we’re now facing each other, instead of him sitting beside me. He holds both my hands in his, and pure warmth washes over me. “You’re not at fault for any of it, Em,” Joshua continues, his voice low and sincere. “You didn’t deserve any of that, and I hate that you had to go through it.”

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