Blurred (Connections, #3.5)(29)

“Shhh.” I whisper to her and place my finger over her lips. “We don’t have to talk about the past.”

She shakes her head and more tears fall. “No, I want to,” she says, and I long to comfort her. I thought we were going to talk about her boss, but I guess she wants to talk about that night.

“There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.” Sloan appears before us, slurring her words. She’s swaying as she moves through the darkness but stops to stand in front of us. I can tell in an instant by the redness under her nose that her wedding day wasn’t a day to forgo the cocaine habit.

Bell, thinking the comment was directed at her, responds. “Oh, sorry, Sloan, did you need something?”

Sloan smiles at her. “As a matter of fact I do,” she mumbles.

She sits in between us and places her hand on my thigh. Then she leans over and announces loudly, “I want you to come up to my room so we can have some fun again.”

I glance over at Bell whose eyebrows have scrunched together as her eyes follow Sloan’s fingers all the way down to the crotch of my pants. She throws my jacket in my lap then glares at me. “Are you kidding me?”

“Hey,” I call after her as she walks away, stomping her heels. “Hey, S’belle, wait!” I walk behind her grabbing her elbow.

I can hear Sloan behind us. “What the hell is going on?” She’s yelling, but I ignore her.

S’belle whirls around. “You slept with her, didn’t you?”

I can’t find any words to defend myself. I didn’t sleep with her, but we did do other things.

“I know you did, that day at the hotel. Sloan has made a few comments that I chose to ignore. But now I know for certain.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Really, what wasn’t it like? It wasn’t like you pulled your pants down when you were supposed to be working? Is that what it wasn’t like?”

I glare at her. When I fail to answer she turns back around, but I stop her with my hands on her hips. “You of all people shouldn’t be judging me.” My words are curt, harsh, and my tone more of a hiss. I regret them instantly.

She goes stiff. She looks over her shoulder at me and her eyes look like they’re searching for something.

“I’ve been going through some shit and haven’t been in the right mind space lately.”

She turns around slowly, this time to face me and cuts me off. For a moment, by the look in her eyes, I think she understands me. “Here’s the thing, Ben, I don’t care what you’re going through or what you did. Don’t talk to me again. I mean it.”

So I put my hands up in surrender and let her leave. There’s no explaining what I did because I shouldn’t have done it. I stand there and watch her walk away from me again, all the while thinking I might have just blown the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time.

Moving onward through the maze of bushes that surrounds me, I leave Sloan, who is still sitting on the bench waiting for my return, without a word. I have something I want to take care, a small gesture to let S’belle know I do care.

I stop by Beck’s. He’s not there but I find what I need to break into her car in the backroom. I shimmy open her lock and pop the trunk. Once I’ve changed her tire, I hide the keys under the mat, and glance at my watch. I remove it and search for a piece of paper. Finding a stray receipt and a pen I write a quick note:

Bell,

Use this until you purchase another.

And call me if you ever want to talk.

Your keys are under the mat.

Ben

646-453-1234

Then I hit the lock button, slam the door, and head back to the motel hating myself for the way the night ended.





Chapter 9


Pain

March first, a new month, almost spring, and it’s also two days until the anniversary of my death—that cluster of f*cked-up events that I can’t wrap my head around. I’ve been reading through my journals—the ones I still have left. I came across an entry from when I first came back to Laguna. I read the pages over and over. How much pain had I caused the people I loved by making that decision? How had I changed the course of everyone’s lives?

Do you ever try to pinpoint any one event in your life that may have changed everything? I do—all the time. But there seems to be so many I’m not sure changing any one would ever change the whole or make anything better.

I lie on my bed, closing my eyes, just thinking. My choice to come back wasn’t all that bad. . . . I had helped Trent, I had made my mother’s eyes sparkle, I had been there to help my sister with her son. So, no, it wasn’t all bad. I sit up and grab my journal. Letting it fall open, I read the entry in front of one more time.

I asked Mom if Dahl was seeing anyone. She was hesitant to tell me anything at first, but admitted there was a guy she was serious about and Dahl had been seeing him for a while. I guess I can assume he’s the same guy Caleb told me about. It’s not that I didn’t want her to move on—I never thought I’d be back. But I just never thought I’d have to see it.

I also asked if Dahl had dated many guys and she told me no, just the one. I had hoped there were more because that would make her more like me. She would have been doing what I had been doing—trying to find a substitute to fill the hole. When I first got to New York I was lost. I had no one. For months I didn’t go out or talk to anyone. Then after a while I tried to date someone, but everything we did just brought me back to the life I left, the life I missed, and it wasn’t fair to that girl.