Page 9 of Need Him
“Are they kind to you?”
Ben shifted. “They’re not unkind.”
“Do they treat you right?”
Ben chewed his lip. “It’s not all bad.”
“Do they know you exist?”
The words, however intrusive, hit Ben where it hurt. But instead of folding in on himself, he glared across at Gareth. “Enough now. We’re here—”
“Do you wish they saw you as a person?”
He stood. “I said, enough.”
“Are you scared to go home?”
Ben stamped his foot. “Stop!”
Gareth stood, facing him on the other side of the desk. He pointed his finger at Ben, eyes narrowed. “Do not stamp your foot at me,” he said. His voice sent shivers down Ben’s spine. “I’m trying to understand you. Do not get upset when someone shows an interest in your life.”
“You’re being—”
“Did I say you could talk?”
Ben clamped his jaw and glared as hard as he could. His skin felt tight, his temperature rising like the lid of a pan of boiling water. Who gave this man the right to talk to him like this? Ben could fire him for how he behaved.
Gareth shoved his hands into his pockets and lifted his chin. “I’m going back to work. I want you to sit down, drink your strawberry drink and calm the hell down. Do not think about touching your paperwork until you have finished your drink. Nod if you understand.”
Though it galled him to do so, he nodded.
“You’re working too damn hard, and your emotional levels are overwhelming you. Take some time to relax and get your head on straight.” He paused, running a hand through the greying, scruffy strands of his hair. “If you need me, call for me.”
Ben watched Gareth stride to the door, slip out and close the door again. Why did he not fire his ass? He had every right to with how he’d been spoken to, but something held him back. That elusive understanding, just out of reach, of why he didn’t want Gareth gone.
He reached for his drink, taking a sip, and paused when he remembered Gareth’s words:Drink your strawberry drink.How had he known? No one else did. Closing his eyes, he sipped his milkshake, letting his mind clear. What Gareth said didn’t matter. He didn’t know Ben. He didn’t know about his life. He had no clue what Ben had to put up with.
But he’d guessed right, hadn’t he?
Ben scrunched his eyes tighter to stop tears from spilling and tried to clear his mind again, letting everything go except the feel of the cold, strawberry milk flowing down his throat. He breathed deeply, allowing the leather chair to cradle his body. When he finished his drink, he opened his eyes and focused on his paperwork, sliding it towards him.
Three hours later, he realised he’d finished everything he could. It was unheard of. He always left some things to be finished the following day. Staring at the piles of paper on his desk, he wrinkled his nose. Surely there was something he’d forgotten.
He shook his head as he packed everything away, locked his office and headed for the shop floor. The walkabout settled him until he saw Gareth. Pausing, they stared at each other, neither coming closer. Gareth raised his eyebrows in a question Ben understood, and he nodded in response before tearing his gaze away and finishing his rounds. He bid goodnight to Felix and drove home.
Distracted as he was, he didn’t notice the lights were on in the house until he’d already opened the door. So much for a relaxing evening. As he entered the lounge, it was worse than he thought.
“Benjamin, come join us. Martha and Henry have come for a visit. We’ve just poured some wine.” His mother, Alice, looked closer to thirty than her actual age of sixty-two, her platinum blonde hair coiffed perfectly atop her flawlessly made-up face. Her dress was in impeccable condition, swaying around her knees as she effortlessly sashayed across the room towards his father, who held out his hand for her. She perched on the arm of the chair and crossed her legs. “Don’t just stand there. Pour yourself a drink. Henry was just asking us about your career. Now you’re here, you can answer his questions.”
Exactly what he didn’t want to do, but he obediently drifted to the bar, poured himself a large glass of white wine—he hated the stuff, but it would fortify him against the coming inquisition—and sat on the chaise lounge opposite their guests.
“Well, Benjamin,” He gritted his teeth at the use of his full name, “how are things up in the skies of management?” Henry asked, grinning like there was a secret club they were both in.
Ben gave a small smile. “Busy, as always. Things are going smoothly. Staff retention is higher than it has been in years. Recruitment has been increasing. Sales are up. Expenses are down. All in all, I couldn’t ask for more.” Except, apparently, someone to put his foot down and tell him exactly what he should be doing. He pushed the image of Gareth aside.
“Glad to hear it. Are you aiming for the area management role next?” Henry asked.
Ben’s father, Martin, interrupted them. “Of course, he is. He’s been in this role for long enough now. He’s brought the store up to scratch, and now, it’s on to bigger and better things. I can see him reaching the top soon enough.”
