Page 47 of Fighter
Frustrated now, I rubbed a hand over my face. Ben spoke in the background, and I was nowimmenselygrateful for the caller. Not only had they given me a chance to pull back together, but to stop us moving this forward before I made one thingveryclear: I wasn't a kiss-and-go person. If he wanted to kiss me, he had to commit to something more than a little extra action after the kid went to bed.
That was not me.
And, as I glanced at a picture of him and Ava on a carousel together, where both had the same pained smile that said they didn't want to pose for a picture, I knew that wasn't him either. The fact that I'd even had the thought made me feel a little guilty. He'd be offended if he knew I'd worried about that.
Just as I'd pulled my brain back together enough that I knew I needed to get out of there, Benjamin ended the call. He stood there for a moment, staring at the very subtle glow of lights from downtown Pineville that came from his front windows. Something in his silhouette made me tense.
Uh oh.
“Benjamin?” I asked quietly.
He tossed his phone onto a nearby couch, then rubbed a hand across the back of his neck.
“Everything okay?”
“It's my mom,” he said.
Carefully, I straightened up, worried he'd snap shut like a clam if I moved too quickly. “She okay?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Heart attack. She's in the ICU right now.”
“Oh, no.”
He turned to face me then, his mask a face of glass. I'd seen this Benjamin before, but it had been so lost in the recent warmth and amusement and affection that I'd forgotten just how distant he could be. The fact that he'd actually spoken about his mother today, and it hadn't been overly warm, clued me in that a disaster of a mess existed below that veneer. After losing his father, I imagined the prospect of being orphaned and going through all that again must be utterly terrifying.
“How can I help?” I asked.
He blinked several times, as if he'd just been dunked in cold water and couldn't reorient. I knew the feeling. The silence lasted for several beats before he said, “I need to go out there and see her. Need to call Mav. Bethany might be able to take Ava. If not, I could take her with me I guess . . .” He grimaced. “No, Ava's terrified of Mallory and Mom wasn't ever very . . . grandmotherly.”
He trailed away, pacing now, but I doubted he realized it. I cleared my throat.
“I can stay with her.”
He paused, looked at me, and shook his head. “I can't ask that of you.”
“Why not?”
“It's too much.”
“Are you mansplaining that to me?” I quipped, but there was an edge in it he seemed to respond to. He stared at me, eyes narrowed, as if sussing out whether I was lying. The thought of a few days with Ava wasn't that daunting. The only difference would be a few hours in the morning. I could work with Dagny to switch the hours before school around, then make it up to her later.
“No,” he said. “I just . . . that's a lot to ask.”
“It's not that much more than I do now,” I pointed out. “Plus, it would be easier on Ava if I stay here with her. She'd be at home in her usual routine.”
The first of his resistance seemed to crumble, so I pressed my point.
“And you can pay me for it, if that makes you feel better, but I don't need it. I'll happily do it for a friend. We're friends, Ben.”
His expression tightened at the wordfriend. I feared for him and his family. Wanted him to jerk me back against his hard body and kiss me until both of us couldn't breathe. But the moment had broken, and I couldn't fight the feeling that he internally flailed around now.
His phone rang with a far gentler tune. The nameMaverickflashed across the screen before he looked back to me with a vulnerable, frazzled uncertainty.
“You're sure?”
“Positive,” I said easily. “Ava and I got this.”
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