Harper meets my eyes, and her mouth forms a pout the same time she finally frees her tears. It breaks the piece of my heart that wasn’t damaged. “Marcus’ brother,” she whispers. “It was Darren.”
Shaking my head, I try to remember what he looked like. I saw him only once and he was piss drunk. I was so into Harper that night it’s hard for me to recall his face, let alone details about the man who stole Norah’s and Robin’s lives. I keep my eyes on hers because I’m trying to remember, but I can tell looking at me and not touching me is distressing her.
“This is my fault. All of it, Ben.”
“How?”
She steps toward me, but I halt her with a head shake. “If I had told you the moment I fell in love with you, none of this would have happened. The dominos were set into motion because I followed my head instead of my heart. I should have stayed. I should have loved you. There would have been no Marcus or Darren. No moves from the East Coast. It would have been you and me. Just us. Nothing else. No one would have gotten hurt. It’s my fault Norah and your baby were killed, Ben.”
I’ve never seen Harper so upset. I recall the weeks after her aunt died and she never showed this much emotion. If I wasn’t so detached, I’d be scared.
I open my arms to the side and she rushes to me, wrapping me in a wet, salty hug. Her whole body shakes, her apologies flowing as copious as her tears. She’s barely breathing when she pulls away.
“Please forgive me. I’ll never forgive myself, but I need you to forgive me.”
I take a deep breath. It’s not because I need one, it’s because I want to inhale her into my system for the last time. She gave me exactly what I didn’t realize I needed.
Someone to blame.
“Yes. I need you to go, though. I can’t look at you. Stay away from me, Harper. I’m serious.”
Backing away from me, she watches me, her face in utter anguish. From head to toe, I let my gaze roam her body. Every perfect curve, mark, and subtle nuance that’s fully Harper Rosehall. I leave her neck for last. Pressing my lips into a smile that probably resembles a grimace, she turns, unable to stomach the rejection.
I watch her back disappear and listen for the front door to shut before I follow her. Everything in me wants to chase her. Tell her I want her, but my guilt would never allow me to have her. I watch her car leave through the front window.
“Burning it all to the ground?” Tahoe mumbles.
“And watching it incinerate,” I reply.
He rolls over and his loud snore is audible moments later. Standing under the strong, hot water, I close my eyes and make mental lists of everything I need to do. I let practical Ben drive for a while because it saves real Ben from self-destructing. Watching Harper’s pain helped me. I made the decision Norah would have wanted. I didn’t honor her love enough during her life, but I can surely make it right after her death.
It gives me something to control.
Fuck knows I need it.
Chapter Eighteen
Harper
I call his parents and Tahoe almost every single day to see how Ben is doing. He’ll come around eventually. He’ll let me back in. He has to. He’s my best friend. Ben needs me, he just hasn’t worked that out yet. I can make him feel better. I know what he needs. It’s been six months since Norah died.
I went to the funeral and it was just as tragic and sad as you’d expect. Ben wore his uniform as did several of his friends. It was an enormous ceremony filled with so many people who loved Norah. Ben didn’t get up to speak. The other vet in Norah’s practice did. It’s sort of fitting. Norah spent most of her life with her. More than with Ben, I’d fathom a guess.
Ben met my gaze once. He looked away almost as soon as he saw I was looking his way. It was the first time I thought maybe this was a permanent friendship break and my own heartbreak intensified tenfold. Tahoe told me he’s only doing well on surface, that he doesn’t trust him by himself, so he’s been spending a lot of time with him on their off hours. Ben didn’t take any time off work. He’s been working even more, taking missions that aren’t intended for his schedule. He’s burning himself out. It’s so he doesn’t have to think. His brain doesn’t ever turn off unless he’s exhausted.
Darren died. Suffering for several days after he woke from the coma. The masochist who wanted him to live out his days in jail was satisfied in the painful way he went. Marcus moved back to the East Coast. He emailed me last week to let me know he transferred to Harvard to teach linguistics. It sparked a glimmer of jealousy. The thing is, I’d never do anything about it. I’m where I’m supposed to be. Since the accident, I get angry more easily. I wish I’d ruined Marcus’ life. Filed a restraining order, made a black mark on his record so he’d have to suffer what he did to me for the rest of his life. He’s seeing a girl, too. I wonder if she knows what he did to me, how he ruined a relationship with jealous rage.
That wasn’t who I was back then, though. It’s who I am now. Bitter. Hardened by a life that I feel has never been my own. I chose it, though I chose what I thought would serve me best instead of choosing what would make me happiest. I sacrificed my only opportunity to have my happily ever after by being selfish. It serves me right.
Martina and her husband just left. I had several people over to my house for dinner. Now that it’s fully furnished and has all the charm of a Martha Stewart catalog; I’ve been hosting. It does make me feel better for a little while. My friends occupy my free time during daylight hours. At night, I’m so alone even my breath causes loneliness. Like Ben’s surface happiness, I feel as if most of the people in my life are surface friends. Those that know me, but not deeply. Not every single detail and quirk. They know what I want them to see.
The one person who I savor a past with wants nothing to do with me and I can’t say I blame him.
It was Ben who tried time after time to tell me and show me what we could have had. It’s wince worthy when I think back. It’s not equal parts pain and pleasure when I think of Ben. He saw what I ignored for years. You know how you can only cry wolf so many times? You can only turn a man down so many times before he believes you don’t want him in the same way he wants you. Add in vehicular manslaughter and you have a recipe to destroy any sort of relationship for the rest of time.
Once I’ve finished cleaning the kitchen to a spit shine, I shower and then call my mom. I’m seeing her this weekend. She told me Ben’s parents were coming for dinner and there was no way I could turn down the invitation. I want anything that has a connection to him. I flip the television on in my bedroom after I hang up with her and pull down my covers.
It’s midnight when my doorbell rings. It’s not a normal bell, it’s a high-pitched screech that jars me anytime I hear it. This late at night, it might as well be a police siren. I let out a tiny scream as I trudge out of my bed, cell phone in hand. I slide over the peephole and look through.
