Page 89 of How We Loved

“Thank you,” I grin back, trying to hide my discomfort from the entire situation.

She walks up the stairs and comes back down a few seconds later. “He’ll be right here. Want to come in and sit in the kitchen?”

I shake my head. “No, sorry. I’ll wait right here, if that’s okay?”

She purses her lips together with that look of motherly concern that I miss so much from my own mom. I have to blink back the tears when I hear Ben walking down the stairs. His hair is still wet, and the white T-shirt he’s wearing with his dark gray sweats hit me in a way it never has before.

“What’s up?” he asks casually, looking anywhere but at me.

I check to make sure his mom is walking away, then point behind me. “Can we talk? Outside?”

He lets out a breath, then motions to the door. “After you.”

We walk outside. I feel sick to my stomach over the conversation I don’t want to have while knowing it needs to happen as he stays completely silent.

I turn to face him, and he finally looks at me.

We stand like this for a few breaths before I say, “Are you going to say anything?”

“You wanted to talk. Here I am. So … talk.”

I tilt my head. “Ben.”

“What?”

“You can’t be serious.”

He runs his hands through his hair, tugging slightly before dropping them to his sides. “What do you want me to say?”

“I want to know why you’re acting like this.”

“Acting like this? Like how you wanted me to act? You distanced yourself from me. Don’t forget that.”

I close my eyes, fully realizing what damage I’ve caused.

Tears prick at my eyes, but I don’t want him to see me cry, so I turn around.

He’s right. This is all my fault. I was willing to throw our relationship away for a guy who I barely knew and who turned out to be a horrible human being.

I’m getting exactly what I deserve from Ben.

I take a step to leave, not wanting to face him anymore and have him see me completely break down on his front doorstep.

“Wait.” He reaches out and grabs my arm.

I turn, and he sees the tears streaming down my face.

“Fuck!” he yells dropping his head back.

“I’m sorry! Okay? Are you happy now? I’m sorry,” I cry out.

“No, I’m not happy. I’m fucking miserable.”

His admission catches me off guard, and I’m sure it’s written all over my face as I pinch my eyes together in question.

“You have no idea what you’ve done. What’s been going on with me through all of this.” He pauses and starts to pace. “Then, when I think like that, I get even more fucked up in my head because it shouldn’t be about me. It should be about you. You could have been really hurt.” His voice cracks, and I reach out to hug him.

He lets me for a second, then pulls me off of him.

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