Page 86 of Every Hidden Truth

“I’m not responsible for what I say in the throes of passion,” I dismissed, tucking my head under his chin.

We lay together, our skin smelling of sex and sweat. I listened to the erratic beat of his heart slow to a more natural rhythm anddrew designs on his torso as he massaged my scalp. I could have drifted back to sleep, but I didn’t want to miss a single moment of this.

“You wanna jump in the shower?” he asked after a fashion, and I shook my head.

“Not yet. I just wanna stay here for a while.”

“Okay.” He pecked the top of my head, and I smiled.

At some point in the late morning, we showered the dried salt from our bodies and changed my sheets. Dressed in only our boxers, I sat on the kitchen countertop as Ben cooked his famous cheesy eggs. I tried to ignore the now-obvious ache in my lower body, but I snuck an aspirin or two when Ben wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t want him to regret what we’d shared this morning—or last night—because I sure as hell didn’t.

Last night had been nothing like I’d ever experienced before. It had been amazing and terrifying and heart-wrenching. It had felt vastly more significant than simply sex between two bodies. And then he’d stayed and held me afterward, whispering adoration and promises against my skin.

It had been the best night of my life, and well worth any soreness I now experienced.

When the eggs finished cooking, Ben joined me on the counter, and we ate in comfortable silence. His shoulder brushed mine every so often, and our dangling feet bumped purposefully. It was the best breakfast I’d had in a long time.

I cleared my plate first and rested my head on Ben’s shoulder as he ate. I kissed the curve of bone and muscle, grinning against his skin as he peeked at me from the corner of his eye. He chewed his eggs with a shy smile

“I’m glad you stayed,” I blurted, and he set aside his mostly empty plate and cocked his head curiously. “No one’s ever stayed before. Well, technically, I’ve never had sex in my bed before, but, like, the other times, I wasn’t allowed to stay. I just mean—”

He interrupted my mushy sentiment with a kiss, then nuzzled my cheek. “Where else am I gonna go?” he said, and the fire I’d been nurturing in my chest erupted into an inferno.

Those three words teased the tip of my tongue, but I bit them back as insecurity and fear reared their ugly heads. Last night, there had been moments where I’d wanted to tell him, where he might have reciprocated, but we’d kept our silence. Maybe it had been too much in the face of the intimacy we’d shared. Or perhaps, I hadn’t wanted it to happen in the heat of the moment.

I knew with every fiber of my being that I loved him, and I was pretty sure that he loved me too. It shouldn’t have been so difficult to voice it. Yet the words stuck in my throat, strangling me.

Ignorant of the war happening between my head and my heart, Ben smiled and pecked my mouth sweetly before hopping off the counter. He collected our plates and took them to the sink to rinse off. Then he placed them in the dishwasher.

As he prepared to wash the skillet he’d used to make the eggs, I jumped off the counter and stood a few feet behind him, wringing my hands. I opened my mouth, but no sound escaped. I swallowed to wet my desert-dry throat, then tried again.

Come on, Silas. It’s not that hard. Just say it!

But it was that hard, okay? I’d never told anyone, except Dad and Will, that I loved them. And they were family, so it was easier. They were kind of obligated to love me back. Ben wasn’t. If I said it, he might not say it back. There was a very real possibility that he didn’t love me at all.

So it was hard, and the words lodged in my throat.

“You gonna help me or what?” Ben teased with a grin thrown over his shoulder.

I opened my mouth to say, “Sure,” but what came out instead was, “I think I love you.” And everything stopped. The earthfroze in its rotation. The birds went quiet, and the light snow paused its falling.

Every muscle in Ben’s body locked, and he jolted like he’d been electrocuted. “What?” he said in a whisper, but it cracked through the room like a gunshot.

That single word set everything back into motion, and as the world started spinning once more, I started to ramble. “I think I love you. Or, well, I know I love you. And I wanted to tell you last night, but I didn’t want you to think that I was only saying it because your dick was up my ass.”

Ben turned, eyes wide as dinner plates, and heat flooded my face and painted my neck. But my motor-mouth was already running, so I just kept talking.

“Not that I didn’t enjoy your dick up my ass. I did very much. Obviously. But that’s not the reason I love you. You’re just the best person I know, and you make me better and nicer and happier than I’ve ever been.”

As I continued blabbering, Ben approached me slowly, like he was drawing near to a cornered animal.

“And you don’t have to say it back. I just wanted you to know because you should know that you’re loved. By me. Because you’re just really great, and I—I just—is that okay? Can I just love you? Please just let me love you.”

I finally managed to close my stupid mouth when Ben came to a stop right in front of me. His hands cupped my face, and his ocean eyes were crashing and swirling like a hurricane.

“Say it again,” he said.

“All of it?” I shook my head. “I literally don’t remember. I’m pretty sure I just stroked out or something.”

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