Page 70 of The Rules
And Kath Winters? She’d never been his. Hell, he’d never even wanted her. Not like that.
Not until she said his name like a lifeline. Not until her voice broke on“I need you.”
That was the crack.
That was the moment that lodged itself under his skin like shrapnel he couldn’t dig out.
She’d called him. Not Joshua. Him. And now she was wrapped up in someone else’s arms like the moment had never happened. Like Ben had imagined all of it.
He hated how it clung to him.
Not because she’d chosen Joshua. But because she’d said those words tohim. And now she was acting like they hadn’t meant anything at all.
He grabbed his jacket—then changed his mind. No keys.
No wheel. He ordered a cab instead, drinking from a flask he shouldn't still carry while the city blurred past the window, loud and distant and uncaring.
He needed noise. Impact. Something to drown this out.
The boxing club was mostly empty. Good. He didn’t want witnesses.
He didn’t wrap his hands. Just gloves. Just contact. Fist to bag. Over and over. Until the ache in his chest dulled enough to pass for exhaustion.
Still, her voice lingered. “Ben… I need you.”
She didn’t mean it. She was scared. That was all. It was adrenaline, panic, the heat of the moment. It didn’t mean a goddamn thing.
Except that it had.
To him.
And that’s what fucked with his head the most.
Ben slumped into the back of the cab, still slick with sweat, hands raw from leather and rage. The night air stung through the open window, sharp against his flushed skin—but it didn’t cut deep enough.
What the hell did you expect? You are not her hero. Not anything that lasts longer than the next bad decision.
You were the panic call.
And the second she found something softer? She let you go.
The thought landed like a blow to the ribs. Sharp. Brutal.Unfair.
And yet—he felt it. That twist in his gut. That hollow ache he refused to name.
The cabbie glanced back in the mirror. “Long night?”
Ben didn’t answer right away. His jaw flexed, breath still uneven.
He let out a humorless exhale, eyes fixed on the city flickering past the window.
“It’s only Tuesday,” he muttered.
The driver gave a quiet grunt of sympathy and said nothing more.
Ben scrubbed a hand over his face, fingers digging into his temples. He’d moved for her. Reacted without thinking. Dropped everything. And she? She ran straight into someone else’s arms like he’d never mattered at all.
No goodbye. No closure. Just silence.
