Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Mom doesn’t like it, but she seems to understand that things were different for Ben than they were for me—or her—growing up. “Nobody got hurt?” I shake my head. “People got their stuff back?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I don’t know if Ben knows. He was a kid. But he helped the police take down the ringleader, which was the best he could do at the time.”
She stares off into space, still thinking about it. She probably will be for a long time, and then she’ll discuss it with Dad, and then they’ll both think about it some more. Especially with Ben’s record adding a layer to his arrest today. I hope they come to the same conclusion I have—people, like circumstances, can change. And I’m not going to hold what Ben did to survive a life I can’t imagine against him.
“How’d things go after we left?”
“Mom! I’m not talking about that with you!”
She rolls her eyes, giggling like a schoolgirl. “Not the sex, Hope. I don’t need to know that. I don’t want to know that.” She shakes her head vehemently. “I meant, did you two talk?”
“Not really. Sean showed up and Ben said they had a lot to talk about, so he asked me to give him a bit.” I nibble on my lip, still worried I overstepped and extra worried that there seems to be something Sean knows that I don’t, though he keeps assuming Ben has told me.
“Oh! You met Ben’s friend. Was he nice?”
Such a mom question to ask, but the truth is . . . no, he was not. He was gruff, rude, and basically kinda terrifying. “I think I liked him better on the phone.”
Mom’s brows jump up her forehead, remembering what I said after hanging up with Sean.
“Well, it sounds like I need to set an extra plate for dinner, then,” she says, tapping me on the leg. “Come on, you can help me cook, and when Dad gets home, we’ll eat while Ben and Sean get themselves sorted.”
Mom’s the best. She can tell I’m worried and is going to do her damnedest to keep me busy in an attempt to keep my mind off it. It won’t work, but I appreciate her trying more than she’ll ever know.
Chapter 24
HOPE
I don’t hear from Ben before dinner, or after dinner. Mom and Dad try to distract me with a movie I’ve seen a dozen times, but after missing my favorite part because I’m staring at my silent and dark phone, I finally give up and say I’m going to bed. But when I lie down in my childhood room, under the damn pink-and-purple comforter where I swore I’d never be again, I can’t stop tossing and turning as I worry about Ben.
Eventually, I pass out, reassuring myself he’ll call in the morning.
I’m up and dressed early, checking my phone obsessively so I don’t miss the call I’m certain will come through any minute. But it stays eerily quiet, and my thoughts continue to spiral deeper and darker the longer he doesn’t call.
How bad is it that I reached out to Sean? Are they still fighting? Did they finally have the big blowup Ben’s said he’s trying to avoid?
Is Ben mad at me for overstepping?
That’s what I keep coming back to. I know my fear of his anger is a reflex to not rocking the boat with Roy for years. Be easy, be nice, everything’s fine, repeats on a loop in my head, but I’m actively rewriting the scripts that have played for too long.
Have a voice. Say what you want. It’s okay to have an opinion, a boundary, a preference.
I overwrite the old script with the new until I can’t stand idly by anymore.
“I’m going for breakfast,” I say to the empty kitchen. Mom and Dad left for work hours ago, so it’s only me here, but saying it aloud feels powerful and decisive.
Rosemary’s is busy, so I keep it simple and order three Monday specials—eggs, french toast, and bacon. I buckle the bag of food into the passenger seat of my Honda and make the drive back to the resort. Except when I pull up, Ben’s rental car isn’t there.
Not giving up that easily, I grab the food and knock on the cottage door.
“What’d you forget, fucker?” Sean gripes as he opens the door. I flinch at his barking, rough voice. “Shit. Thought you were Ben. He just left,” he explains with a shrug as some weak version of an apology for answering the door like a Neanderthal.
“Oh.” I guess that’s slightly better? I thought he was calling me names and acting like I shouldn’t be here. “I brought breakfast.” I hold up the bag full of Styrofoam boxes. “It’s from Rosemary’s.”
“Place must be good, because that’s where Ben said he was going.” He eyes the bag like I might’ve poisoned the contents inside.