Page 104 of Every Good Thing
LENA
It’s nearly eleven when my phone indicates an arrival through our new electronic gate, and my entire body sighs in relief. Perhaps it’s unwarranted tension. I witnessed the plans Ben made with Jack, so I knew where he was. But an undercurrent of anxiety has run through me since the comic-con.
He’s avoiding me. Again.
Stepping outside to the front deck, it’s not Ben’s Jeep pulling in beside my truck. It’s Jack’s Tesla. Barefoot, I race down the spiral staircase and reach the passenger door as Ben nearly spills out.
“Sorry, Lena. Too many whiskies,” Jack apologizes, rounding the car to help.
Ben laughs, red-faced. “Not enough whiskies.”
Jack edges his shoulder under Ben’s arm, supporting his bulky frame like a crutch.
“He didn’t want to come home,” Jack tells me, his brown eyes pinched in concern.
Shit, I pushed too hard. I tuck that pain away for later and position myself on his free side. “Ben, let’s go upstairs, huh?”
His feet move unsteadily beneath him, and he laughs again. “See, Jack? I’ve got a hot wife.”
“I know, bud.”
“A really amazing wife.” His voice almost sounds sad and apologetic. “Think she’ll be mad?”
“I’m not mad, Ben,” I say beside him.
He twists in surprise, as if seeing me for the first time. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“Come on, Benny, ol’ boy. Use those tree trunks of yours,” Jack urges as we circle the spiral staircase, one step at a time.
A snorting chuckle spurts from him. “Tree trunks.”
He stumbles through the front door, ramming my casted arm into the doorjamb, fingers first. I wince but bite my lip to avoid cursing.
“You okay?” Jack asks.
“Yep.” Not okay. Definitely not okay.
Ben stares at me, confused.
We get him to the couch, where he plops down with a loud thud that makes him laugh again.
“Shh, Ruthie’s sleeping,” I say, leaning down to remove his shoes.
Jack grabs water from the fridge and hands it to him. “Drink up,” he orders.
I walk Jack to the door. “Sorry about this.”
“No apologies. It was nice that he finally let his guard down with me.” He hovers in the open doorway, running a hand through his shaggy brown hair. “Listen, Lena. You should know that he’s, um, not himself.”
I lean against the opposite side, folding my arms and fighting tears. “I know… How can I help him, Jack?”
“If this were a novel, I’d say…” He rubs his stubbled chin. “Give him a holy-shit moment that lifts him into a better perspective and shows him what’s right in front of him. In real life, though, that’s a lot of pressure and hard to do—”
“He gave me fireworks once. Surprised me with them after I’d had a terrible day, right out there, over the pond. That was the first time I thought this place could be… well, Saddletree.”
Jack’s eyes go wide with renewed admiration. “Ben Wright did that? A fucking grand romantic gesture? Ah, damn, that’s my boy. That’s what you need, Lena. Ben’s version of fireworks.”
