Page 96 of Plentywood
“Can we just do it at your place?” I asked.
Ben’s posture changed, and he turned to face me. “So, what you’re saying is that we’ll never celebrate Christmas in your house?” he questioned.
“I didn’t say that, Ben.”
“But you didn’tnotsay that,” he insisted. “I love being with you, Hunt. I really do.”
“But?” I interrupted. “I’m hearing a big oldbutcoming.”
Ben let out an exhausted breath. We’d been having a fair share of disagreements lately concerning my reluctance to clearmy house of certain items. His biggest concern was the notes I’d obsessively created after Mark died. I’d placed them everywhere as I tried to recreate exactly how we’d lived. In hindsight, I knew I made them so as not to forget him.
And truthfully, they comforted me. Ben found them a tad on the creepy side. Although he didn’t actually call them creepy as we blended our lives. He was flexible as he fit me into his space above the clinic, but I’d been far less flexible in mine, and I knew it.
“I’m not looking to erase Mark from our life, Hunt,” he stated, playing with the edge of the blanket covering his lower body. “I’d just like to start planning for ours.”
“I know,” I admitted. “I’m trying. Maybe you can lay off the pushing a bit?”
Ben slid out of bed, his beautiful body making my heart hurt as I watched him pull way-too-big pajama bottoms that belonged to me onto his slim body. He was upset again, and it was my fault.Again.
“I’m not sure about this, Hunt,” he whispered. “I’m just feeling…”
“What are you feeling, Ben? You bailing on me already?” I pushed. “Is that it? Had enough of tragic Hunter?”
“Stop,” he said. “Let’s not do this again, Hunt.”
“I said I’m trying,” I said, raising my voice and standing. “You need to back off.” I suddenly had a thought. “Shit! Bella’s outside.”
I left the bedroom and let Bella in. Ben had followed me to the living room and stood with his arms crossed when I turned around. He gestured around the room. “Look, Hunt. Just look around this place. Your notes with Mark’s way of doing stuff are everywhere,” he reminded me for the tenth time. “I’ve seen you perform the tasks, Hunter. You’ve got his ways down pat.”
“I can’t remove them,” I said, looking at him, feeling defeated in my efforts at trying.
“You need to, though, honey. I really think it’d be best for your mental health,” he encouraged.
“I can’t do that,” I resisted. “I can’t and I won’t.”
Ben frowned and sat at the island, shaking his head back and forth. “Then I cannot stay here anymore.”
“Why?” I grilled. “Why can’t you just give me a fucking break about this, Ben? The constant shit about the notes and now Christmas. A tree and all the shit that goes with that. I don’t want to do that stuff anymore.”
Ben stood and headed back to the bedroom. I followed after him while Bella sensed tension and hurried to her bed. Ben was stuffing clothes in a duffle bag when I walked into the room.
“What are you doing?” I asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.
“I’m going home,” he stated. “You’re stuck in this museum and I can’t seem to get you to move forward, Hunt.”
“Maybe I don’t want to move forward,” I defended. “You ever think about that?”
“Got it!” he declared. “Understood. One hundred percent, Hunter.”
Ben pulled my pajama bottoms off and tugged jeans over his hips, looking around the room for more of his things. After returning from the bathroom with his shaving kit, he grabbed the duffle bag and started to leave the room.
“Why are you taking your toothbrush and bathroom stuff?” I asked, holding his arm to stop him.
He glanced at my hand, ice in his eyes, so I let go. I remembered this side of him from when we’d first met. Distant. Removed from emotion. The loving openness I’d grown accustomed to was replaced by the appearance of the man I’d argued with at the diner months before. Like a chameleon, he’d slipped right back into that demeanor, right before my eyes.
“You’re doing to me what you did to Charlie,” he stated. “And I’m not going to let you do that, Hunt.”
“The fuck I am,” I insisted. “Bullshit!”
