Need Me (Broke and Beautiful #2)(35)

She turned when someone cleared their throat behind her. Both roommates were standing in the living room, looking more than a little confused.

“Was that English?” Roxy asked.

Honey’s laugh sounded unnatural to her own ears. “Not according to my father.” She tapped her phone against her thigh. “I’m going home for the week. The tractor broke my brother’s legs.”

“Oh my God,” Abby breathed. “Who is tractor?”

“It’s not a person.” Honey headed for her bedroom, knowing they would likely follow her. “It’s an evil contraption that only my family knows how to work.”

In the doorway to Honey’s room, Roxy propped a hip on the door frame. “So you’re going home to plow the fields?” She frowned. “Are you sure this has nothing to do with Ben plowing your field, then acting like king *?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Honey answered quickly, having anticipated the question. “I’m not running because of a guy. I wouldn’t.”

Abby nodded, even if Roxy didn’t. “Do you want us to come with you?”

Tears pricked behind Honey’s eyelids, so she hid them by getting down on her knees to search for her suitcase under the bed. “I appreciate the offer, but it’s just me. They just need me.”

“Okay, but the offer stands.” Abby clapped her hands together. “I can at least help by looking up flights. Aisle or window.”

“Aisle.” Honey found her suitcase and yanked it into the center of her room, thinking both of her roommates had gone. But when she glanced toward the door, Roxy was still there, arms crossed. “I’m not running because of Ben,” Honey said preemptively.

“Hmm.” Roxy looked doubtful. “I’m kind of an expert at running from guys. Ask Louis.” She sauntered into the room with a drawn-out sigh. “I won’t pry, because I’m also an expert on hating people who pry. But promise me one thing?”

Honey gave up the pretense of rummaging through her drawers and looked at Roxy. “What’s that?”

“Promise you’ll come back.”

Honey opened her mouth to make the promise, closing it with a snap when she realized she couldn’t.

WHEN BEN SAW a message from Honey sitting in his email inbox early Monday morning, his first thought was, Oh Jesus, she’s dropping my class. He’d done a bang-up job of keeping himself together over the weekend, drinking enough to drown two Yetis. But this was somehow the worst news he could have imagined receiving while still lying in bed with a motherf*cker of a hangover. It meant no more heartbreakingly sincere papers that kept him up at night. No more certainty that he would at least see her. Nothing. She’d dropped him—for good reason—and now he wouldn’t be her professor anymore, either. It made him want to pull the pillow over his head and block out the world.

He didn’t, of course, because there was an urgency spinning around him madly, begging him to read the email. Any communication with her was beyond what he’d expected, be it good or bad. He had no right to be this desperate to read words she’d written, when he’d behaved like such an *, but no one was here to judge him, save the empty whiskey bottle lying at the foot of the bed.

Ben snatched his glasses off the bookcase, put them on, and sat up with a groan when his entire being rebelled. How much had he drunk exactly? Not enough to feel this horrible, but then again, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. Russell had stopped by with a pizza at some point, which had basically been an excuse to tell Ben what a failure he was as a human being. Then they’d watched the Yankees game and polished off a six-pack without exchanging a single word. Ben had no idea which day of the weekend that had taken place, because he’d continued the party on his own as soon as the door had closed behind Russell. A pathetic, one-man party where the goal had been to drink until Honey’s face blurred. It never did. It was still there, stronger and more beautiful with each passing minute. Sobriety was bullshit.

He tapped the email with his thumb and blinked to bring the bright electronic screen into focus.

Professor Dawson, it began. Ouch. No more Ben for him. Even through two simple words, he could hear her tone of voice. Detached. Formal.

A family emergency has come up and I won’t be in class this week.

Ben sat up straighter. She wasn’t dropping his class, but she wasn’t going to be there, either. What kind of emergency sent you flying out of the state? It had to be bad, possibly a relative dying. Was she okay? God, he hated the idea of her dealing with bad news on top of what he’d done to her Friday night.

I have attached the assignment you gave out Friday morning to this email. Hopefully that is acceptable. If it isn’t inconvenient, I would appreciate you responding with any assignments for the upcoming week, reading or otherwise, so I can email them to you on time. Thank you.

Honey Perribow

Ben tossed his phone onto the bed and grabbed his laptop off the floor, where he’d miraculously remembered to charge it. A minute later, he had Honey’s email pulled up to open the attachment. He’d completely forgotten he’d even given an assignment on Friday, dropped it into the murkiness of the weekend. He remembered now, though. Remembered wanting to read something, anything, from Honey, so he’d asked for a creative writing piece on any topic, student’s choice. It had been so unlike him, leaving anything up to chance. Not being specific. Even the students had shown their surprise. God, he’d crossed so many lines at this point to get close to her, to figure out how her mind worked, that he should really just resign. Honestly.