Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Back in the hallway, I opened a closet and put on my other pair of jeans—thanks, Ma, for doing my laundry—socks, and one of my countless Clover tees. My gym shoes would have to dry for a day or two, but I had a pair of All Stars in the meantime. Not the best pair of shoes to work in a bar, so I was glad we closed for the night soon.
Ben had sat down on the foot of the bed when I returned to the front room, and I wanted to strangle him as much as I wanted to hug the crap out of him. Nobody had ever forced me into a tailspin of mental gymnastics like this motherfucker. I had no issues with gray areas and nuance, but this was too much. I had at least fourteen different voices shouting an opinion about this man and what we’d gone through together.
Gone through? You fucked. Get over it.
It was more than a fuck. You started caring for him.
You invited someone into your home. You never do that.
Special circumstances. It wasn’t like you met him in a club.
Yeah, but—
Shut the fuck up.
“I gotta go back downstairs.” I walked over to him and unwrapped the pizza from the foil. “I’ll ask you again—when was the last time you ate? And can you wrap the fucking covers around you? Christ.” Irritated as shit all of a sudden, I snatched up the covers and blanketed them around his shoulders. “When I get back, I want you to have eaten all of this. Don’t forget to drink. I’ll bring more with me later.” Which reminded me… “Hold on. I’mma find some painkillers.”
Good job, man. Ramble like Ma, and Ben will be too overwhelmed to answer.
I stalked out of the room, realizing I came off as a lunatic, but I couldn’t help it. I’d really worried about him—and I’d cursed myself for having forgotten his last name, because I couldn’t remember how many times I’d wanted to look him up. If only to make sure he was still alive.
Cleary, something. Ben Cleary, Benjamin Andrew Cleary—except, it wasn’t. At least, I hadn’t found anyone under that name who could be him, and I’d even reached out to a cop buddy I hadn’t spoken to in two years.
“When was the last time you ate, Ben?” I asked for the third time as I dug out a bottle of painkillers in the bathroom.
I heard him sigh heavily.
“Yesterday.”
Go fucking figure.
I grabbed a pop from the fridge too, since the juice hadn’t survived the shower. Then I was back, and he was at least getting started on the food. Well, if one could call pretzel sticks with Nutella food.
I opened the pop for him and handed over the painkillers. “Take both right now.”
He swallowed what was in his mouth and accepted the pills and the drink. “You’re angry with me, but I can’t figure out why.”
That was the fucking problem.
“I can leave—”
“No.” The thought alone put me on edge, where I’d essentially already lived for the past two months. “Well, I know you can—you’ve proven that.”
He flicked me a brief, confused look before he downed the pills. Then he must’ve found the Coke good, ’cause he immediately started chugging.
It was my favorite drink for when I was sick too. Ice-cold Coke.
He lowered the can after a moment, and he shuddered and looked down. “You’re mad I left without saying goodbye.”
I’m mad you left at all.
He nodded to himself. “I knew it was a coward move.”
As he’d stated in that goddamn letter. By now, I could recite it word for word.
I cleared my throat and knew I was out of time. “We can have a lovely chat about that later. Right now, I’m gonna sacrifice my cold cuts and give them to your new pet. Then I’m going back to work. We close at two. And if you leave—”
“I won’t,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry, Trace. You’ve been so happy that I assumed—”
“Excuse me?”
“Well, I…” He gestured tiredly at the door. “I’ve seen you. When I stay in the alley, I look sometimes. You’re always in a good mood behind the bar.”
I rubbed my forehead and—no, I didn’t have the time to unpack all that now. He stayed in the alley a lot? Why? And me flashing a grin and laughing it up when I worked didn’t fucking reflect what I was going through. But after reading his letter a million times, I could see how the slightest grin might strengthen his belief that I would be “relieved within a few days” of his leaving. Because I wouldn’t have to “babysit” a “burden” anymore.
I shook my head. “Just be here when I get back.”
“See you tomorrow, boss!”
“Yeah, see ya. Get home safe,” I responded absently. I smiled to myself as I tore off the EOD receipt and looked at the total.