Page 153 of Between the Blue
“Hey,” I say gently.
Ben’s head lifts, finding me next to him. He doesn’t startle, nor does he make any attempt to hide what he’s doing, which only makes my heart flutter further.
“Hey,” he replies.
I smooth out my skirt. “This place cleared out.”
“It did,” he nods. “But it’s pretty late.”
“I guess you’re right,” I say. “I should probably head out myself.”
Ben turns to face me fully, still holding the book in one hand as he puts the other in his pocket.
“If that’s what you want.”
I look up at him, and the look in his eyes alone tells me that that isn’t what he wants. But I know he won’t say it.
I step closer to the tree, glancing down at the book in his hands.
“I was wondering what you were doing over here when I first walked up,” I tell him. “I thought you were maybe staring longingly out the window, dreaming about your Christmas wishes.”
Ben snorts, making me break out into a smile.
“I don’t stare longingly.”
I tilt my head at him. “I know you’re more self-aware than that.”
He narrows his eyes at me, then clears his throat, shifting his gaze towards the window. “Well,” he says, “I think it’s a rule you can’t dream about your Christmas wishes looking out a window with no snow.”
I notice his finger tracing one of the Texas outlines in the scrapbook. I step past him, moving closer to the window to look out of it. “Do you miss Canada?” I ask him.
I see him step up next to me in my peripheral vision. “There’s not much for me to miss there anymore.”
“Rhett told me, you know.”
Ben’s full body turns in my direction. “What?” he asks, his voice low.
“That you guys grew up together.”
“Oh,” he nods, relaxing against the window frame. “Yeah, we did.”
A silence rests between us for a few moments before I ask, “Do you like Texas?”
“It’s been my home for a decade.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
Ben’s lips purse, and he appears to think for several seconds before finally answering, “I like it.”
“Do you think you’ll stay here?”
He reaches up, running a hand through his hair. “It’s where I belong,” he says.
Though I find it to be a somewhat odd response, I nod.
“I just need to sign my deal.”
“Deal?” I repeat.
