Page 46 of Every Hidden Truth

“I’m sorry, Silas,” he said again, and I held up a hand.

“Please, just give me a fucking second.”

He fell silent, the weight of his gaze tracking me as I paced back and forth. I felt like crying, but I wasn’t even scared anymore. I could see that I was in my house, not in that bathroom. I could smell Ben’s spring soap, not cucumber melon. And it was Ben, not Eric, who’d been touching me.

I knew all of this. I could fuckingseeit. And yet, my heart was jackhammering and my eyes were burning with the need to weep.

And on top of everything, there was the embarrassment, the all-encompassing humiliation. Because he knew exactly what was going through my mind, exactly why I’d stopped him. He knew, and it made me want to scream.

“I’m okay,” I kept saying as I continued pacing. “I’m okay, Ben. I just need a second. That’s all. Just a second. I’m fine.”

“It’s okay if you’re not,” he said hesitantly, and I shook my head again.

“No, I’m fine!” My voice broke. “I’m fine. I’m...”

Ben stood as I covered a sob with my hand. He didn’t move toward me, but he did reach for me. A request. An offer.

It was up to me, though. He was giving me the choice, and that, more than anything, is what broke me.

I reached for him as I burst into tears, and he was there. He held me as I buried my face in his neck and shattered into pieces.

He didn’t speak. He offered no words of comfort or empty platitudes, no optimistic promises or soothing assurances. He simply held me, keeping me from drowning completely.

When my tears finally dried, my chest was hollow like everything in me had been scooped out. It was cold and lonely, yet Ben’s presence seeped into me like the warmth of spring, thawing me after a harsh winter.

At some point, we’d fallen to the ground and now sat in a tangle of limbs. Salt crusted on my cheeks as my tears dried on his bare chest. I hid in his neck; I couldn’t face him after my meltdown. There was only so much brokenness a person could carry before they splintered, and Ben had enough without adding mine. Even now, he held me up when I couldn’t stand, but how much could he truly handle before he collapsed under the weight?

“I’m sorry,” I croaked, tracing the line of his collarbone. “I didn’t know that would happen.”

“You don’t need to be sorry.” His hand rubbed warmth into my arm. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t notice until it was too late.”

“You shouldn’t have to!” I pushed against his chest, swiping angrily at my eyes. “Who should have to tiptoe their way through jerking their boyfriend off?”

He frowned, but his voice was soft as he said, “Maybe someone whose boyfriend was sexually assaulted three months ago.”

The blunt words made me flinch, but Ben didn’t take them back. “I’m fine,” I denied uselessly.

“I think we both know that’s not true.”

My temper sparked, and I pushed out of his lap, stumbling to my feet. “I think you should go.”

“No,” he said as he followed me up.

“What?”

“No,” he said again, ocean eyes turbulent. “I’m in this now. You chose me, remember? And I chose you. So we are in this together. You can’t shut me out every time I say something you don’t want to hear.”

“Fuck you,” I spat that word, and he winced. “You don’t get to say that. You have no idea—”

“Paul Masson,” he said.

Once again, I was caught off guard. “What?”

“Paul Masson brandy. I know exactly what it smells like because my dad smelled like that every time he put his hands on me.” His breath hitched, but he kept going. “I had to ask Aunt June to change her lotion because she used the same brand that my mom did. And every time she walked into a room, rubbing that goddamn Curél into her skin, I couldn’t breathe.

“So don’t you tell me that I have no idea.” His fists tightened, then released. Tightened, then released. “It’s not the same. I get that. But don’t you dare tell me I don’t understand what it feels like to be in two places at once but unable to escape either.”

I was crying again, fat, silent tears rolling down my cheeks as Ben’s chest heaved with great, shuddering breaths.

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