Page 21 of No Kind Words

I know he’s incredibly successful and well liked, that his skittish behaviour is only around me. Therefore, it’s up to me to make it right. He wants me. I can see it. I can still feel him deep inside me. He’s changed, though. He no longer gives off the possessive top vibe, the one that would have me instantly hard and begging for his hands on me. I’ve changed too. I went to university angry, so angry, after I’d had everything stripped from me, and I wanted control of my life and my body. The first tattoo, the first piercing, and the first time I topped. I loved all of it.

I kept the mess of scars on my back covered. It took me years to be comfortable naked with a lover, not so much out of shame but because I only wanted hook-ups. Anything more hurt too much. I wanted Ben, but he hadn’t come. He didn’t want me. Hook-ups didn’t feel like cheating. It wasn’t true, of course. It was another lie I told myself.

“It’s only French toast with some berries, and I’m doing some bacon. I don’t know if you prefer sweet or savoury.”

“I’ve heard rave reviews about your breakfasts, especially the French toast. Maeve says she’s put on a stone since she got here.”

“Maybe I should put up a disclaimer—zero responsibility for any weight gain.” He grins at me, the first genuine smile he’s given me. He seems to realise the easy-going attitude and turns back to the stove and the sizzling pans.

He doesn’t say anything else, and I’m more than happy to observe him move confidently around, looking like he’s doing half a dozen things at a time. He’s effortlessly talented. It’s easy to stay quiet and just watch.

With another smile, a smaller one this time, he instructs me to get the cutlery. “It’s in the top drawer over there.” He nods toward the drawers.

Obediently I follow his instructions and grab the knives and forks as he pulls out plates from a small warming oven on the range cooker. When everything is set on the table, we sit on opposite sides to each other. Ben busies himself serving me. He looks like he’s trying to avoid any questions, but me being me, I’m not going to let him get away with it.

“How did the café and the catering come about? I know you loved cooking, but I didn’t think it was something you were able to pursue.” The moment the words leave my mouth, I could slap myself. How stupid can I be? He didn’t go to college because he had to care for his parents.

He doesn’t seem to mind. “There was no way I was leaving, even when your father threatened me with just about everything he could. I stayed because my parents needed me. And after, when they both passed, which was in a few months of each other, I did my catering and bakery courses. When the shop came up for sale, I bought it. That was over a decade ago. I love it. It suits me.”

I can see how much he loves his work, and after the first mouthful of his French toast, I know what all the fuss is about. “Oh my god, Ben, this is delicious. I get it now.”

Ben smiles but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he eats his breakfast too. When we’re finished and he’s collected the plates, he points towards the living room. “Can we go through all the dos and don’ts for Hope? It’s been years since I had a pet. I think I was about fifteen or sixteen years old when our family dog died.”

This must be his way of rounding up my visit. After this, he’ll tell me to find my way home. While it stings, I’m aware I’ve got to take baby steps with him. It’s all about proving that I’m serious about getting to know him again, that I’m not going anywhere. He’s like a skittish stray that doesn’t know whether he can trust the hand being held out to him. “Sure, I’ve got a printout of her medication, mainly low-dose painkillers, but that can change depending on her mobility. You’ll have to bring her in to have her cast removed, and I’ll get Maeve to show you how to clean up some of the sore spots. There are some instructions about what she can and can’t do regarding her mobility. There’s not much to it. A lot of it is common sense.”

A wry smile is playing on his lips. “And you had all this ready before you turned up on my doorstep. Were you that confident I would take her?”

“Honestly? I wanted a way to come and see you. You left with plenty unsaid last night. I told you how much I missed you, that I wanted you, came back here for you. You didn’t say anything back.”

Ben sighs and walks into the living room. I follow him. He’s got to have something to say about this, about us. He sits on the floor, Hope’s head on his thigh, and combs his fingers through her hair, just as he did last night. I lower myself on the opposite side of the dog.

“I don’t know you anymore, Jethro. You’ve changed so much. You have an edge about you that was never there. It makes the relationship we had before such a piece of the past, almost as if it happened to someone else. Over time, I’ve forgotten how much you would change. You were barely a man the last time we were together. You’re a different person now, and I’m not. I don’t have anything to offer you. You don’t need me, not the way you used to.”

Of all the things I thought he would say, I never imagined it would be this. Does he think so little of himself? How exciting the thought of getting to know each other again will be? “Don’t you think learning all the new things about each other is exciting? Whatever you think about yourself, you’re wrong. Yes, you’ve changed. You’re this new hotter version of yourself. I can’t believe you’re not married. I like what I see, Ben. I want to know you, this version of you.”

“What do you want from me?”

“What do you mean?” Does he think I’ve got some ulterior motive?

“I don’t know if you want us to get back together as if nothing ever happened. Or what? Friendship? Because I’ve got enough friends.”

I push myself up onto my feet. “I want it all, Ben, or Benny, or whatever you go by now. I want every fucking bit of you. And when you’re ready to get to know me again, you know where to find me.”

It takes Hope and me a couple of days to get used to each other. She’s doing well and eating, beginning to find her feet, but I’m not letting her move around too much. Today is her first trip back to Jethro. And the first time I’ll speak to him again since New Year’s Day. I haven’t gone silent, though. I’ve sent a few texts, mainly about Hope, but also to let him know I’m thinking about him and all he said. Which is true. He’s been on my mind constantly. He spoke the absolute truth that we needed to talk to each other. Use this time to learn everything we can about each other. Only then will we be able to see if we have something still.

“Come on, Hope, let’s go and see the sexy vet. Do you think he’ll want to come on a date with me? There’s only one way to find out.” Hope’s tail thumps frantically on the rug she’s made her own. Thank god she’s a small dog. Carrying a German Shepherd or, hell, a Great Dane up and down stairs or in and out of the car would not be fun. I’d do it, but I’m glad my girl is a compact one.

The weather is dreadful again. I can’t wait for spring and then summer to come. Having to drive even short distances around town is annoying. The trip to the vet’s takes a little more than five minutes. A few other cars are parked in the car park. It’s good to see it’s going well for Jethro.

Luke greets us with a huge grin, but his smile isn’t aimed at me but at Hope. Her wriggling in my arms shows how pleased she is to see him too. “Take a seat. Jet, I mean Jethro, will only be a minute.”

It’s more than a minute, more like five, but everyone seems to have heard about Hope, and the other people giving her lots of fuss, which passes the time. When it’s finally our turn, I follow Jethro and his perfect tight jean-clad arse into the examination room.

He takes Hope from me and places her gently on the rubber-topped table. He looks her over thoroughly while I fill him in on all she’s managed to do. I’m surprised at how impersonal he’s keeping it until he rests his hand on her head and looks at me. I know he wants me to speak first. He deserves it, probably with a bit more panache than I manage to stutter. “You wanna have dinner, or um, like something, or just a drink? Together, me and you?”

He stares at me for a good thirty seconds longer, then bursts out laughing. “That was smooth. You must have spent hours practising.” His eyes are warm and gentle, no hint of ridicule or even hostility.

“I did. You should’ve heard the ones I discarded.” I chuckle, still not sure if he’ll say yes or not. I wait a moment longer, then ask again, “Will you?”

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