Five Ways to Fall (Ten Tiny Breaths, #4)(94)

Ben’s arms fall from me as he steps forward to stand in front of a tree, reaching for some ripe fruit on a high branch that I can’t reach. “I don’t know what the f*ck I am, Reese. Confused, that’s what.” Those square jaw muscles harden as his bows his head. “Mama tells him that she’s finally had enough, that she wants to be free, and so he goes and kills himself? He sets it up like a goddamn stage, with the doors wide open and him sitting in the middle. How is Mama supposed to react to that? She’s going to feel guilty as hell, that’s how! She’s hiding it well, but I know she’s feeling guilty. Was that a ‘f*ck you’ to her? To me?” Ben’s head dips and he takes a deep breath. “Sorry. I don’t mean to yell. I’m just . . .”

“It’s okay. Yell all you want, Ben.”

He reaches up to rest his hands on top of his head as his mouth opens to speak, only to falter. And then he explodes. “I’m f*cking ecstatic that he’s gone, Reese! How wrong is that? I mean . . .” His arms drop so heavily that his hands slap against his thighs. He starts pacing. “When I saw Mama crumpled in a heap like that, I thought she had had another heart attack. I couldn’t get to her fast enough. And then I saw him slumped in that chair—dead—and the only word in my head was ‘finally’! Finally, after everything he’s done to her, after all the pain he’s caused her and this family, and how much we’ve lost around here, the f*cker is out of our lives!”

His tone softens a little, his voice cracking. “While my mama is standing there, sobbing over his death, I’m ready to sing halle-f*cking-leuiah.” I can almost see the guilt weighing his shoulders down. “What kind of person does that make me?”

“Normal, Ben. He was a shitty father and husband. Even your mother knows that.”

“Really?” He turns to look at me. “What if you got a call that Annabelle died. Would you want to throw a party?”

Good question. Annabelle . . . dead? I’ve never given it much thought. What would I feel for a woman who seemed incapable of feeling anything for me? “I don’t know,” I admit with a sigh.

We fall into silence as Ben leans back against the wagon.

Finally I hazard to ask, “What’d the note say?”

He purses his lips for a moment. “That he was sorry for . . . everything. He wishes he could have been a better husband. That he wants her to stay on the grove and be happy again.”

A lump spikes in my throat. “How does a person veer so far off course?”

“Alcohol . . . depression . . . fear . . .” He shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

Why did it take a bottle of aspirin and a death wish for Ben’s father to admit his faults? What if he had just said these things years ago? I guess maybe he didn’t see what was wrong. Or kept denying it. Until it was too late. “At least he gave her that.”

“Yeah. There was also an envelope with a life insurance policy they took out years ago. A pretty big one, too. One that will pay out, even after a suicide.” He smiles sadly. “It’ll help her fix the house up.”

Warmth spreads through my chest. “That’s great news!”

Ben turns to give me a funny look.

“What?”

He says nothing, though. He simply holds a hand out. When I take it, he pulls me in to him. Lifting me up onto the edge of the trailer, he wastes no time pushing my legs apart to slide his body between them. “I know it’s been a shitty day but, I’m glad you’re here.”

“So am I.” All I’ve wanted to do is wrap my hands around that giant heart of his and protect it from any more hurt. Hurt like I saw last night. The kind that you feel when you’re faced with the deeply rooted bitterness that Ben has had to face for years. I wonder if it’s better or worse than the indifference I see when Annabelle looks at me.

I’m expecting Ben’s hands up my shirt in seconds, but all he does is rest his forehead against my chest. And so I coil my arms around his head, press my cheek against his hair, and watch the afternoon sun shift along the horizon in silence.



“I should have just called him. I don’t know how you talked me into this,” Ben mutters, pulling into Jack’s driveway that night.

“I told you. He already knows I was with you and what happened. He’ll want to pay his respects in person.”

Ben heaves a resigned sigh.

“He’s not going to fire you!”

“Well, doing it today would be in poor taste, I guess.” Ben slides out of the driver’s side reluctantly and trails me inside.

Both Mason and Jack are waiting for us in the kitchen. Jack’s on his feet instantly, walking forward with a morose expression and his arms out to offer a confused-looking Ben a manly hug. Mason is close behind. “How can we help?”

“Well, I think Reese already mentioned me needing a week off. My brothers and sister are trying to get flights in, but I’m not sure when they’ll make it. I can’t leave my mother alone.”

“Done,” Jack states simply.

Ben swallows. “Thanks, Jack. That’s a relief. I just drove back to drop Reese off and get some clothes and I’m heading back up tonight.”

There’s an awkward pause as three sets of eyes flash to me—Mason’s filled with curiosity, Jack’s with reluctance, and Ben’s baby blues with . . . I don’t know what that look is, but I’ve been getting it a lot today.