Page 109 of Check the Halls
A moment later, I hear it—the jangle of keys.
I’m off the couch in a heartbeat, the air catching in my lungs as I run, faster than I thought I could move, faster than I can think.
“Maddy?” Ben’s voice cracks through the darkness just as I round the corner.
And there he is.
Alive. Whole.
He looks rumpled and windblown, his eyes wide with worry, but he’s here and he’s safe.
I don’t stop to think. I crash into him with all the force of my fear and relief, my body folding into his chest as he stumbles back a step, catching me instinctively.
I bury my face against him, breathing him in—the clean, familiar scent of him, the faint cold clinging to his clothes, the wild pounding of his heart against mine.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” he murmurs, his fingers slipping into my hair, his lips finding the crown of my head.
“You’re okay,” I whisper, not sure if I’m trying to reassure myself or him.
“I didn’t mean to miss the rehearsal. My phone died?—”
“You’re okay,” I repeat, clutching fistfuls of his jacket like I can anchor us both here.
“I’m fine. I was on my way, and then Elliot called?—”
I pull back, my pulse stuttering. “Sam’s mom? Is he okay?”
“He’s fine. He didn’t come home from school. She panicked. I went looking for him...I found him. He’s safe.”
He pulls me back against him so fiercely it almost hurts.
“But my fucking phone died and I couldn’t get in touch with you,” he breathes. His arms tighten around me, holding on to me like I might run.
“It’s alright,” I murmur against his chest, my hands sliding up his back, trying to soothe the tremors rippling through him.
“But it’s not.” His voice breaks. “I told you I’d be there. I promised. I let you down and I’m so fucking sorry.”
“Hey,” I say softly, cupping his jaw, feeling the coldness of his skin, the rough scrape of stubble against my palm.
He won’t meet my eyes.
“Ben.”
Slowly, he lifts his gaze to mine. Broken. Beautiful.
“You didn’t let me down.” I speak the words with all the certainty I can find. “Something happened. You had to make a choice. You made the right one.”
“But I didn’t put you first,” he says hoarsely.
“No.” I furrow my brow. “And you shouldn’t have.Who cares about a dress rehearsal when a child is missing?”
He shakes his head. “I should have gotten a new phone.”
“We’ll take care of that tomorrow. Unless you want me to install a tracking device.” I huff a laugh. “I was...I was so scared, Ben.”
I see it hit him—the realization that I wasn’t angry. I was terrified.
His face crumples, just a little. “I thought...I thought you’d think I didn’t care. That I forgot.”
