Page 95 of Enemies with Benefits

“Planting is a sign of optimism, joy, and long life.”

Her smile is kind. It reminds me of all the smiles and joy my mother radiated. She was so beautiful, always with a fresh flower behind her ear. “She sure did bring joy. But I can’t say much for the long life. She died when I was five.”

“How’d she die?”

“Car accident. My dad ran out of beer and woke her up to get him more from the store. A teenager was driving down the wrong side of the street, coming home from a party, and hit her head-on. He walked away with barely a scratch. She died instantly.” She should have never been on the road that night. But he forced her. He killed her.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks. It was a long time ago.”

She reaches out and squeezes my arm. “Time doesn’t make a difference. I’m sorry you lost her.”

The single tear that falls down my cheek catches me off guard. It’s been almost a lifetime since she died. Years since the last time I cried. Before today, I can’t remember the last time I thought about her. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m crying. I haven’t thought about her in such a long time.”

She’s quiet as she covers the plant with soil. I worry I overstepped, showing my emotions in front of a stranger. Maybe I should let her be—

“It will be thirteen years tomorrow since his father passed. It feels like yesterday. I was in the garden when I got the call. His best friend of almost forty years broke the news to me. I didn’t believe him. There was no way my Henry would leave me.” She pulls another plant from the bin and hands it to me. I squeeze the container while she digs another hole. “He went in to save a little boy. Did you know that?”

I nod. “I did.”

“He had such a soft spot for kids. When Ben was a baby and Henry wasn’t working, he did most of the work. Would stay up all night with him. Stare at him. Worried if he blinked, he would stop breathing. If there was one thing he loved more than his job, it was Ben.” I hand her the plant and wipe away another fallen tear. “Ben gets mad when I come out here and plant. But it gives me hope. False hope, but it’s what gets me by. I just feel like if I had a redo, I could call him and tell him to come home. Not to go to work. If I could replay that day, maybe I could change the outcome.”

I can’t fight the tears rolling down my face. For her. For Ben. The constant pain that consumes her. I don’t know what comes over me, but I lean in and wrap my arms around her. I don’t say anything, just comfort her. Let her know I understand. And it’s okay. There’s no right way to grieve. It takes a moment before she rests her hand on my shoulder and leans into me. I’m not sure how long we stay like this before she slowly pulls away.

“He looks like him. Ben. Spitting image. It’s wrong the way I treat him sometimes, but it hurts so much to look at him. He’s a constant reminder of what I lost. And I don’t know how to cope with that.” There are no tears, but the anguish in her eyes is enough. She’s suffering. They both are.

“I think you should look at your son and see how amazing he is. He’s kind and honorable. Stubborn and funny. And he’s a damn good firefighter. You should look at your son and think about what his father would say. I think he would be proud of the man he’s become—I think he’d be happy Ben’s following in his footsteps.”

Chapter28

Ben

I can’t listen anymoreand walk away. For years, I’ve been begging my mom to open up. Talk about his death. I needed it. I neededher. All this push and pull to help her heal. Help us both heal. But she couldn’t bother to give me the time of day. To see I was hurting, lost. . . that I needed her to see he left me too.

I storm through the living room, taking my fist to the wall. Those stories about my dad, they were never told to me. But she opened up to a complete stranger and shared something so intimate, something that could have gotten me through the pain, loss.

I grip my fist, cussing at the soreness in my hand. I take the stairs two at a time, finding my old bedroom. Everything’s the same. My football trophies line my dresser, and sports memorabilia clutters my walls. God, I loved football. It was all I used to think about. Playing was in my blood. And I was damn good. I worked hard for that scholarship. It was a kick to my ego when I only got offered a partial ride.

“Being ungratefulisn’t a good look on you, son.”

“It’s bull! I’ve worked my tail off—and for what?”

“A partial scholarship is an accomplishment. Those college recruits saw potential in you. They chose you. There’re players out there who aren’t even given that chance.”

“Levi got a full ride.”

“Comparing yourself to someone else gets you nowhere. You need to look in the mirror and see the talented playeryouare. You make me proud every day. And this scholarship—partial or full? It makes me damn proud. You’re going to go to college and show them what you got. Who. You. Are.” He presses his finger into my chest. “You have to have faith it will all turn out. I know it will. Because you’re my son.”

“Yeah, and how’d that turn out, Dad?” I snatch a trophy from my dresser and throw it across the room. It cracks in half as it hits the wall. I swipe another one and chuck it. Then another. And another. “Fuck!”

“Ben. . .”

I spin around to see Makayla standing in my doorway.

“Hey, are you okay?”

My chest heaves.No, I’m not okay. I’m a fucking mess because I can’t let go. I can’t stop being angry at him for dying. For taking everything I wanted away from me. For bringing me back home so my mother could beat me down. No. I’m. Not. Okay.

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