A Mess of a Man (Cruel & Beautiful #2)(89)

My hand shakes as I pour the golden liquid into a crystal tumbler. I’ve downed the first glass before she makes her way into the living room. She snags up the rest of her clothes and puts them on.

“Were you waiting until after you trapped me in a relationship before you spilled that little bomb on me?”

My harsh tone does nothing to stop her from looking like she wants to calm the raging bull inside me.

“Ben, I had every intention of telling you.”

“You could have done that before …” I pause, not adding I fell in love with you.

She glares at me. “Before what?”

I wave her words away as anger takes control over my mouth. “Before everything, instead of walking around like a false advertisement.”

Her expression morphs into something I haven’t seen before.

“You arrogant bastard. You found a lump in my breast, and I tell you I’m at high risk for breast cancer, and you make this all about you.”

I pour myself another drink before I face her.

“Sam.” I stop and remember that despite it all, I don’t want anything bad to happen to her. “The last thing I want for you … for anybody is to have to deal with that hell. But I can’t do this, and you knew that.”

“It’s not like I set out for this to happen.”

“No, maybe not. But you could have shared this with me long ago. And then we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

Her mouth drops.

“What? You wouldn’t have dated me?”

She thinks better of me than I am. I nod.

“It’s not like I haven’t ended things before because of cancer.”

It easy to see she gets my Karen reference. It doesn’t matter that I wouldn’t have stayed with that woman even if her aunt hadn’t gotten sick.

“And that’s it? You’re going to let me face this alone?”

Her question is as quiet as the tears that stream down her face. There’s a finality to it that punches a hole in my chest. Yet, I’m a statue unable to move.

“Sam, you have family and friends. You aren’t alone.” I swallow as a flash video plays in my head of Drew slowly dying in front of me. “I can’t do it again,” I choke out. “I just can’t. And it’s not fair to you for me to pretend otherwise.”

I wait for her to storm out. But she just gives me the saddest look.

“If I told you I love you would that make a difference?”

She loves me. For a moment, my heart soars only to plummet to the ground in a sickening thud.

“Sometimes, love isn’t enough,” I mutter, before downing the contents of the glass.

Her spine straightens and her face clears of empathy.

“You know what, Ben Rhoades?”

I know better than to answer. But I do anyway as I pour myself another three fingers. “What?”

“You can go f*ck yourself, you *.”

The worst part is not the door slamming in her wake as the exclamation mark on her storming out of my house. The worst part is she didn’t yell the words, she said them with pity and regret.

A thousands thoughts circle my brain in a matter of minutes. If Drew were here, he would punch me in the face. Knowing I could have handled our parting words better, I toss back the last of the drink before hurling the glass at the door. It breaks into a million shards just like my blackened heart.

I’ve let the only woman I’ve ever loved walk out my door, yet I can’t make myself run after her.

“I love you,” I whisper for the first time and in place of goodbye. I can only pray we both survive what’s to come.

“Don’t give me that look,” I say to no one. Only the echoes of Drew’s memory seem to continue to glare at me from beyond the grave. The contents of my stomach churn and it won’t be too long before the liquor takes me to a place I can’t get to alone. “I can’t, Drew!” My shouted words go unanswered. So I whisper the next ones as I stare at the ceiling wishing for Drew’s apparition to make an appearance just this one time. “I can’t watch someone I love die again. It will kill me.”





Though my car isn’t even fifty steps from his door, it feels like fifty miles. Stumbling through blinding tears, I finally make it. When I get inside the heat is stifling, but I’m chilled to the bone. It takes several stabs with my key to hit the ignition and the engine finally comes to life. Driving in this condition is impossible so I make a call.

“What’s up, baby sis?”

“Laney …” I choke out.

“Sam? What’s wrong?”

Sobs explode from me like a cannon.

“Sam! Talk to me, please. You’re scaring me!”

“I … I …”

“Where are you? I’ll come to you.”

I hiccup out my answer. “B-b-ben’s d-d-driveway.”

“Is he there?”

“N-n-no. He hates me.” I rest my head on the steering wheel.

“Just stay put. Sam, don’t you dare drive. I’m calling Lauren.”

The scene replays itself over and over, like a broken movie projector. The accusatory look on his face, and the pain, but not only that—it’s the fear in his eyes that I keep seeing. Oh my God, what is happening here? My hand shakes as I cup my breast. Why did I wait so long?