Page 75 of Every Hidden Truth
Turning around, I plucked Ben’s phone from his nightstand and checked the screen. Patrick—whoever that was—was calling, but that wasn’t what had dread solidifying in my stomach. It was the contact picture.
Ben and some beautiful guy smiled at the camera, pressed cheek-to-cheek in a more-than-friendly way.
“Who is it?” Ben asked, and I held his phone out to him wordlessly as it stopped ringing.
An awkward silence stretched as he took the phone and checked the call log. He didn’t comment on who Patrick was or why he was calling. He just set his phone aside.
It rang almost immediately, flashing that damn contact photo again. He didn’t answer it, clicking the button to ignore the call. Less than a minute later, it rang a third time.
Ben grimaced. “He’s just gonna keep calling,” he said with an apologetic smile. He then proceeded to crawl out of bed and grab his underwear off the floor.
I gaped at him as he tugged his boxers up and over his ass, the phone continuing to trill.
He said, “I’ll be right back,” and then walked toward the bedroom door, bringing the phone to his ear.
“Seriously?” I said, but he was already walking out of the room.
“Pat? Hey!” he said as the door shut behind him.
I sat on his bed in shock, staring at the closed door as his muffled voice mumbled unintelligibly from the other side. I was literally lying naked in his bed where he’d just gone down on me, and he was talking to some other guy?
What the fuck?
With a huff, I turned to the cubbyholes of his headboard and searched the pictures he had framed there. Finding the one I wanted, I pulled it out and studied it. Ben stood between Caitlyn and the same gorgeous guy from the contact photo. He had dark skin and toffee-colored eyes, and I had the sudden and irrational urge to rip the picture up and set it on fire.
Caitlyn was in the picture with them, but Ben stood in the middle. Patrick’s arms were around Ben’s waist while Caitlyn held the camera. And Ben, blushing and beaming like he’d never been happier.
Oh my God, Patrick was his ex. And Ben had taken his call. On Christmas. While I was lying naked in his bed.
I returned the photo frame to its place and settled back on the mattress, trying not to get angry and failing. Sure, sometimes exes could stay friends, but why hadn’t Ben told me? We’d literally just had a conversation about his ex, and he’d failed to mention that they kept in contact. Wasn’t that something to be shared with a current partner?
Or maybe I was overreacting? Eli and I hadn’t spoken since I’d found the evidence of his relationship with Sam and flew off the handle. We’d had zero relationship aside from fucking when we were horny, so it made sense that when the fucking stopped so did our semblance of a friendship.
It might have slipped Ben’s mind to mention Patrick. When we talked about his ex, his focus had been on getting me naked, not expounding on the complexities of their relationship.
But he’d still taken the call. He’d left the room to talk to his ex. And I was right here. I was here and naked and Ben had taken Patrick’s call.
Ugh. Patrick. Seriously, what kind of pretentious name was Patrick, anyhow? Not to mention, he was literally the most beautiful human specimen I’d ever seen. And he was probably rich and nice and hung like a stallion.
And Ben had taken his call!
I was working myself into a temper now, and I fought to calm down. So Ben kept in contact with his ex. Big deal. If it was important or affected me, Ben would have said something. He wasn’t Eli. There was no possibility Ben and Patrick were still involved because he was with me. And even less likely was the possibility of him cheating on me with his ex. Ben wasn’t like that.
To calm myself down, I went to the bathroom and splashed cool water on my face. I glared at my reflection, a storm brewing in my gray eyes. My cheeks were still flushed from our activities, and I scrubbed at them, trying to erase the red splotches.
Since my mouth tasted like stale cum, I opened Ben’s medicine cabinet in search of mouthwash. I swished and spit, then returned the mouthwash to the shelf. The movement jostled a prescription bottle and it tumbled out of the cabinet and clattered in the sink.
“Shit,” I mumbled, grabbing the bottle to put it back.
And because I just couldn’t help myself, I read the label. Lexapro. Prescribed to Ben. I didn’t know what Lexapro was, but I remember Ben’s off-hand comment about taking his meds. Why did he need meds?
Not wanting Ben to catch me snooping, I returned the Lexapro to the medicine cabinet and returned to his bedroom. He was still out in the hall, laughing at something perfect Patrick must have said.
My phone beeped, and I jumped, tearing my gaze away from the bedroom door. I grabbed my phone from the floor, expecting to see a text from Dad asking when I was coming home. Instead I saw a message from Unknown waiting in my inbox.
Unknown: Merry Christmas
Okay, this was getting ridiculous.
