Page 59 of Love Story

We grabbed our coats and headed out, the cool evening air hitting our faces as we walked the short path to the big house.The warm glow of the kitchen windows spilled onto the driveway, and I could already smell the comfort of Mom’s cooking.

Dinner was warm and lively, the kind of night that felt like home.Mom had outdone herself with a pot roast and all the sides, and Dad kept up a steady stream of stories ranging from mildly interesting to downright baffling.Ben had been a little shy at first, but by the time we sat down, he was laughing at Dad’s exaggerated hand gestures as he grumbled about this and that.

And everything was going so well until we were clearing the table.

“How long are you planning on staying in town, Ben?”

Ben paused mid-reach for the mashed potato bowl.“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice careful.“I have—”

“Mom, stop interrogating him,” I cut in, glaring at her.

She raised her hands in mock surrender, but the glint in her eyes told me she wasn’t done with her questions.

Ben smiled and stood.“Can I help with the dishes?”

Mom’s eyebrows rose.“Now, there is a gentleman.”

“I’m helping too,” I defended.

He followed her into the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves, to help rinse plates while I dried.It was… nice.Cozy.As if he’d always been here, fitting into the rhythm of my family with an ease I hadn’t expected.

Dad leaned in the doorway, his latest story veering into bizarre territory.“And then, the cabbages were enormous, and he didn’t want to pay me for the whole lot.Typical!”

“No one is interested in the cabbage story,” Mom warned.

Ben chuckled at the exchange, but then his cell vibrated on the counter where he’d left it.He glanced at the screen, his expression shifting, and something in his posture changed.

It wasn’t immediate—at first, he kept up the easy rhythm of washing and rinsing, but he grew quieter, his responses to Dad’s next story more subdued.I noticed it halfway through a new tale about tractors and frosted windows.

“Excuse me,” Ben murmured, setting down the plate he’d been holding.His voice was calm, but the way he left the kitchen, heading straight for the back door without even grabbing his coat, made my chest tighten.

I watched the door swing shut behind him, the tension in his shoulders unmistakable.

“Sam?”Mom’s voice broke through my thoughts.

I forced a smile.“Sorry.What?”

“Go check on him,” she said, her knowing gaze locking on mine.“Take his coat.”

The cold, crisp night air bit my cheeks as I stepped outside.Ben stood at the edge of the yard, his back to me, arms wrapped around himself.His shoulders were tense, and his breath puffed white in the moonlight.

“Hey,” I called in a gentle voice, not wanting to startle him.“You okay?”

He didn’t turn, but his voice reached me, low and tight.“I just needed some air.”

“Without a coat again?”I stepped closer and laid his coat over his shoulders.“What’s going on?”I asked, my voice calm, though it took effort to keep it that way.

Ben shook his head, his shoulders tight with tension.“It’s nothing.”

Nothing.That damned word again.I clenched my jaw, forcing myself not to react as I wanted to—with frustration.Because it wasn’tnothing.I could see how Ben avoided my eyes and held himself as if the world’s weight pressed down on him.

But I couldn’t push him.Ben was skittish as though any sudden movement might send him running.He didn’t talk about Boston unless he had to, and even then, getting anything out of him was like pulling teeth.I knew better than to push too hard, to strip away too many layers at once.If I did—if I asked one question too many—he might shut down completely.Or worse, he might walk away.And that scared the hell out of me.

I understood why he kept quiet.The NDA he’d signed wasn’t just a formality—it was a lock on his past.He could never say what it covered, but I had my suspicions.Sometimes, in the quiet moments, I could see the stress in the way his shoulders tensed, the way his eyes darkened when certain topics came up.Keeping it all inside was the only choice, but I could see what it was doing to him and how it weighed on him.He needed someone to listen, someone to remind him he wasn’t alone.And I wanted to be that person, even if I had to wait until he was able to let me in.

The thought of him walking away and shutting me out for good made my chest tighten.I wasn’t sure I’d know how to bring him back if I pushed too far.I wanted him to trust me and let me in, but how could I do that if I couldn’t ask the questions clawing at my insides?The frustration churned with the fear, leaving me standing there, unsure of what to do or what was right.

So, I swallowed the words I wanted to say and buried them deep like I always did with Ben.“Okay,” I said, hoping he’d hear it as reassurance.The fear twisted in my stomach, sharp and unrelenting.I hated feeling this helpless as though I was standing on the edge of something I couldn’t control.But I couldn’t lose him, not when I’d barely gotten close enough to touch the walls he kept around himself.So, I swallowed my frustration, even as it burned in my throat, and nodded as if I believed him.

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