Page 73 of Fighter
“You serve him all the time. He knows you exist.”
Her gaze tapered. “W-well, yes. He sees that I'm h-h-here, but I have a knac-ck for f-f-fading into the background.” She smiled broadly. “It's the way I like it. W-w-with him . . . it's even b-better.”
“Better that he doesn't know you crush hard?” I guessed, grateful to escape the thought of Amber for a while. Dagny grinned, but it was woeful.
“Yes.” She shuddered. “I hope he n-n-never knows that. We're f-friends. I'd like it to s-stay that way.”
25
Benjamin
Istared hard at Serafina's text message. Vomiting my brains out for hours made everything fuzzy, but the world was more clear now than it had been last time I was conscious.
Serafina:Ava is off to school just fine. Are you feeling any better today? You looked pretty wrecked yesterday.
Serafina had been here?
I rubbed my eyes with the heel of my hand and stumbled into the house. Vague memories of waking up to the sound of bustling, a woman's quiet voice, and Ava's high-pitched response, filtered through my mind. That had been Bethany, right? She'd planned on stopping back by after some showings.
Everything was clean, organized, and smelled faintly like bleach. I grabbed the note on the counter that I'd read last night before I attempted soup at 2:00 am. My assumption was that it had been from Bethany.
Apparently not.
I texted Sera back.
Benjamin:Much better. Thanks. Were you here yesterday?
Serafina:Yes. I came over after work and stayed until Ava fell asleep.
Benjamin:I'm sorry, I didn't know. Thought it was Bethany.
Serafina:You were pretty out of it.
Benjamin:Thank you for your help.
My eyes sprinted all over the house again. Maybe it was the weak feeling in my body. Maybe it was just the circumstances around me. Maybe it was the clarity of so much sleep, but I felt a welling of dread in my stomach.
Sick or not, I couldn't put off talking to Serafina anymore. We had to figure this out.
Benjamin:Can you come over later and talk?
Serafina:I'd like that.
An hour, one very long shower, fresh clothes, and a change of sheets later, I felt exhausted, but restored. After checking in with the MMA Center—which ran surprisingly smooth without me there to coordinate—and answering a few emails, I lay back on my couch and stared at the ceiling.
So many thoughts streamed through my head, the greatest of which was the most obvious:I am not good for Serafina.
The scales were balanced way out of her favor. First, she took care of us, just like yesterday. I never really got a chance to take care of her. Second, I'd kissed her like a dying man, but hadn't even taken her on a real date. She received the dredges of my time and attention, meanwhile poured her time and attention into me. When she didn't have to, she cared for both of us. The list of what she did for me extended into eternity when I considered that she cleaned my house, made me food, and cared for my daughter.
Just like I had with Sadie. Given my all, my everything, and to what?
Dredges.
Even after I'd been a cold and distant jerk that kissed her like he meant it, then didn't even text.
And what did I give to her?
Aside from a paycheck, which she hadn't even cashed yet, nothing. Clarity rose in my mind despite the haze of feeling sick. Wasn't I already just like Sadie? Sucking time and attention and not giving back? Ava was my first priority, which meant Serafina had to come second. Even third. Sadie had always been Sadie's first priority, and I had come in the dredges of her time after everything else. She kept me close enough to control, satisfied enough that I didn't rock the boat. Never the priority.
