At the end of the evening, once everyone has left, I find Ben sitting alone in the corner, beer bottle in hand. I sit beside him and huff as the weight is taken off my feet. “You okay?” I say with a soft nudge to his elbow.
He finishes off the last of the drink and sets the bottle at his feet. “I did this,” he says, his voice rough.
“Did what?”
“It’s my fault we’re here today.”
My chest tightens.He blames himself?I shake my head from side to side, trying to work out how he could. “No,” I whisper and clutch his wrist. “It’s not.”
“I should’ve noticed the signs. I should’ve hauled his arse in the car and taken him to the hospital sooner.”
“You did everything you could.”
Ben turns to me, his face pale. “Do you really think that?”
“Of course I do,” I say and nod repeatedly to try and get it through to him.
He sighs and runs both hands through his hair. “Why didn’t he tell me?” he chokes out.
My chest heaves as I sigh. “I don’t know.”I wish I knew.
“I could’ve done something.”
I think we both know in our hearts that things might’ve been different if Sam had spoken up. Sam did try to talk to me the day of the festival about his physio session and his hands, but then his focus shifted elsewhere.Me. He was determined to dance with me. Without assistance.
“Sam wouldn’t want you to feel like this, and he definitely wouldn’t want you to blame yourself.”
Ben sighs. “Yeah. I know.”
“Come on. Let’s go home.”
In the dark of night, the sofa bed creaks as Ben tosses and turns. I curl up in my bed wearing Sam’s T-shirt, with Butch at my feet. Tears flow until sleep takes me.