Page 68 of Every Good Thing
Ben slaps the ball away and dribbles around him for another basket. “I don’t operate by Rob Riley’s rules of marriage—the more the merrier.”
Dr. Riley belly laughs. “Hey, don’t knock it till you try it.”
Pressing myself against the brick wall so they can’t see me, I take several deep breaths, replaying the gist of Ben’s words the other day. Hurt terribly. Irreparable. Angry. I didn’t know love until you. But my anxiety bitches pull their punches. She’s one of the hottest women ever, and she traveled the world and adopted two boys, hoping, all these years, that Ben would come back to her? God, it’s like my anxiety bitches Frankensteined this woman out of my worst fears.
Pull your shit together, Lena.
Many long breaths later, I stroll around the corner, flashing my usual smile and holding up my cast. “All done. What do you think of my new look?”
Ben only nods.
“Ah, purple. Fun choice,” Dr. Riley says. “Did Ebony answer all your questions about cast care?”
“Yep. I’m all set. Get it? Set? Cast?”
Ben’s brow quirks. It’s a bad joke, but the best I can do.
Dr. Riley chuckles graciously. “Ah, you’re breaking my heart.”
I laugh. “Thanks for seeing me, Dr. Riley.”
“Call me Rob. Ben has my number if you need anything. Don’t forget those exercises.”
Ben relinquishes the basketball, looking almost disappointed.
At his favorite brewery for lunch, he stares into his beer and holds the glass like it’s a genie meant to solve his problems. Problems I wish I fully understood.
“Tell me about Rob,” I say. “He seems like a real character.”
Ben shrugs but doesn’t meet my eyes. “He is. Not much to tell.”
“Aw, come on. Surely you have a funny Rob story.”
A tiny smirk edges his lips like he might have thought of one, but it disappears just as fast. “I don’t know.”
“Were you two close?”
“We were all close,” he says with a pinched brow and an almost regretful tone, though it’s hard to tell.
A beat passes with zero elaboration. He doesn’t want to talk about it.
Hurt waves over me suddenly, thinking about how easy Ben was with Rob compared to the man sitting across from me now, grumpy, quiet, and winning a staring contest with his beer. I finally understand why he comes off as unfriendly to people at Saddletree—it feels like he doesn’t want to be here. Worse, his quiet nature isn’t just reserved for other people, like I thought. He uses it on me, too.
Strangling my napkin under the table, I go for old reliable. “What’re you thinking?”
“I’m unsure about turning down the position,” he admits, making eye contact for the first time.
My internal organs liquefy into an oh-shit feeling, but I manage a short smile. “Why the change of heart?” I ask, though I already know. Spending time with Rob has rekindled something he misses—perhaps the old Ben. Or even the real Ben.
He shrugs. “It’s lucrative and reliable. The movie deal is risky in the long term. My income will be necessary if Saddletree suffers for closing.”
My fault. Again. A quick breath eases my growing tension. I slide my good hand over his across the table. “Ben, Saddletree will be fine. It’ll reopen better than ever under improved management. Don’t do this for Saddletree. Do it for you… if it’s what you want.”
When he doesn’t respond, I squeeze his hand. “Is it? What you want?”
A heavy sigh precedes his answer. “I don’t know.”
His frustration ripples across the table. His world is changing, and he doesn’t know how to navigate it. Offering my opinion feels tricky, especially because I don’t think he wants it. The job sounds perfect in every way but one. Cherry and Dot’s words replay in my head—around her… protecting her… her mad come-hither eyes.
