Page 50 of Benson
“Hey,” he called, stopping a few feet away. “Are you okay? Do you need help?”
She looked up with red and puffy eyes, mascara smudged like bruises. “I’m fine,” she said, voice cracking. “Just…pathetic.”
Kyle shook his head and sat down beside her, leaving space but close enough to feel the weight of her sadness. “You’re not pathetic,” he whispered.
She sniffled. “My boyfriend—five years—he left me. For someone richer. And cuter, apparently.”
Kyle didn’t flinch. He’d heard stories like this before, but they never stopped hurting. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That’s brutal.”
She gave a hollow laugh. “I must’ve been so boring. So plain.”
Kyle turned to her, his voice soft but steady. “You’re not plain. You’re pretty. And you deserve someone who sees that without any need of a bank account or a magazine cover to prove it.”
She blinked at him, surprised. “You don’t even know me.”
“I don’t,” he admitted. “But I know what it’s like to feel invisible.”
They sat in silence for a moment, the waves filling the space between them.
“I couldn’t sleep either,” Kyle said after a while. “Been thinking about Benson.”
“Who’s Benson?” she asked, wiping her eyes.
“My boyfriend,” he said, smiling faintly. “He had to go back home in Michigan. That’s where he lives.”
She nodded slowly. “Why didn’t you leave with him?”
Kyle looked out at the water. “It’s complicated. Really complicated.”
She glanced at him, her expression softening. “Did he want you to go with him?”
He shrugged. “He did.”
“Then why are you here with me?”
“That’s a good question. I just moved here from New York City and wanted to start a new life in California.”
“Without the man you love? You have the choice to reach for the one who loves you. I don’t have that choice.”
“I never thought about how my choices sabotage one another.”
“It’s about priorities.” She smiled and touched him.
Kyle smiled back. “Thanks for letting me talk, and I hope you find love.”
And for a while, they just watched the ocean together—two strangers, stitched together by sleeplessness and sorrow, finding a little peace in the tide’s rhythm.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Benson
Petoskey, Michigan
Benson reached for his phone—only to realize it wasn’t there. A whispered curse slipped from his lips. He’d left it charging at his parents’ house, forgotten in the corner of their den while he distracted himself with roast and old family tension.
He called his father from the landline in the study. The voice on the other end was calm, matter of fact. “It’s here,” his father said. “Logan’s heading out soon. He’ll drop it off—he passes your place on the way.”
Benson hesitated. “Okay,” he said quietly, already bracing.
