Page 22 of Where We Belong

Cory: Huh? That’s impossible. You’re a marshmallow inside.

Ben: I don’t know how to take that comment.

Cory: Well, you usually are… no, now that I think about it, you’re right. In the past three years, your fuse has shortened, and you snap easily at everyone.

Ben: Now you understand why this is important. It scares me to think that I’ll start yelling at Bernie, or that maybe I’m angry at my daughter.

Cory: Doubtful. She’s your entire world.

Ben: Then, what is it?

Cory: They say the first step is to accept you have a problem, which you did. I’m sure you’ll figure out the rest. So why did you ask if I’m available?

Ben: We have to discuss the inn.

Cory: As I mentioned before, we’ll do it when I’m ready.

Ben: You’re killing me, Cory.

Cory: You waited four years. You can wait a few more weeks—or months.

Ben: Fine, but I’d appreciate it if you speed this up.

Cory: Don’t push me, talk to you later.

Chapter Eleven

Benedict

The text with Cory and my last therapy session have me spiraling down memory lane, re-examining my past, present, and what I need to do to avoid repeating my parents’ mistakes. Because the ugly truth is, that’s exactly why I’ve avoided serious relationships my whole life.

Do I love Cordelia Spearman?

With every fiber of my being, but she doesn’t deserve to end up with someone like me. A man who comes from a long line of assholes who destroy families. As much as it would kill me, I know my best friend would never forgive me if I made a move on her and hurt her. Heath knows I’m a fucked-up man.

Yet Cory is the love of my life, and even when I promise myself I’ll let her go, I just can’t stay away from her for long.

I wish I could be selfless and genuinely want her happiness with Bodhi. But I’m a selfish bastard, just like all the Farrows. That poisonous legacy is why we’re all so damn unhappy, living such miserable lives. Everyone around us suffers the consequences of our actions. Shannon’s children are the best example. She and her ex fought bitterly for custody during the divorce. The only ones who suffered were the little ones. They’re teenagers now, but still, I bet they have wounds as deep as the Krubera Cave.

Or maybe they’re not as bad since Derek took the time to keep an eye on them while their parents were in the middle of the exhausting divorce that landed my sister in jail. Still, Farrows are too fucking toxic. Well, everyone except Derek. He’s different.

Somehow he bypassed the asshole gene. Is it because he has a different mother than us?

Probably. The Yates DNA might’ve saved him from being just like the rest of us. His mother probably raised him with compassion, integrity, and love. All the things my parents didn’t have. We never got along, but he always tried to keep an eye on me. Once he tried to fix our relationship, I realized Derek is a good man—I’m grateful he’s a part of my life.

Knowing he’s better than us makes me want to reach out to him. He might be able to help me understand my past and how it’s fucking with my present. I wish he was close by so I could drop by his house, but since he’s already in Seattle, I text him.

I hope he’s not away on a mission. Having a brother who owns a private security company is great until he shows up bloodied on my operating table from who the fuck knows what because he never discloses what happens to him.

Well, the latter only happened once while I was still working in New York. Derek showed up bloodied on my doorstep instead of at the hospital. I think it was the first time I realized he wasn’t like the rest of my family—he genuinely cared about me, trusted me with his life. Ever since, I hold my breath whenever I learn he’s off the grid on some top-secret mission.

I wait anxiously for a response, but instead of texting back, he calls.

“Hey,” I greet him, trying to sound casual.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, and his concern is palpable.

I pause for several seconds before asking, “Why wouldn’t it be?”

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