Rushing the Goal (Assassins #8)(72)

“Has he tried to see her?”

“Once or twice, but I can’t, and I know that makes me a shitty person.”

But Benji shook his head. “You know what’s best for your daughter. You’re her mother, Lucy. You have to trust your gut.”

“Yeah, exactly,” she said, turning to look at him. “Like, what if he tries to buy her off? She’s young and impressionable, and f*cking Rick already does enough of that. So, no, I can’t do it.”

“And you shouldn’t have to. Come here, it’s okay,” he said, cuddling her in his arms. “You need a hug, you’re all riled up. Sorry I asked,” he murmured against her cheek.

“No, it’s fine. He just bugs me.”

“Understandable.”

For a moment, she thought she’d said too much, but then, wasn’t that what a relationship was? Talking about stuff you didn’t like? And Benji did it wonderfully. He listened like he always did and it was nice. Really nice. Leaning into him, she closed her eyes, feeling completely content. Something she hadn’t felt a lot unless she was with him. That should be a blinking sign in her face that he was becoming more, but she had her blinders on because she liked the way he felt. Was that such a bad thing?

When it was just them, alone, with nothing from the outside world in the way, she was good. Walls down, she was happy. It was the thought of everyone knowing that she liked him, Angie knowing, and ultimately Rick, that had her sick to her stomach. Angie would handle it like she did everything else—head on, fast, and with zero cares—unless Lucy was upset and then she would be upset. Lucy couldn’t have that. She couldn’t stress her baby out. Her family would get too excited way too quickly. Knowing her mother, she’d want to have a double wedding, and Lucy could handle that, but she couldn’t handle Rick. Knowing her luck, he’d run Benji off, and in the end, break Lucy’s heart all over again.

And Angie’s.

And she could never let that happen.

But in his tub, Benji’s arms around her, nothing could touch them.

No. She was good, real good.

“All I need is a glass of wine, maybe some chocolate-covered strawberries,” she said with a giggle, and he chuckled against the back of her head. “Do you have any wine? We should pop open a bottle, drink it like queens and kings.”

He chuckled against her ear, kissing the spot below it. “No, I don’t.”

“That’s a travesty. We’ll need to get some for next time.”

He didn’t say anything right away, but then he cleared his throat. “About that…”

She opened her eyes, leaning over so she could look up at him. “What? No next time?”

He scoffed. “Oh, Lucy, if I had my way, this water would stay hot and we wouldn’t leave. But it’s not that.”

“Then what?”

He paused and sucked in a deep breath before meeting her gaze. He was unsure, something was holding him back, and that made her concerned.

But nothing prepared her for what he said next.

“I’m an alcoholic.”

Whoa. What?

Her face must have given her away before he looked away. “I’ve been sober for twelve years, though.”

“Oh. Okay, wow, yeah. No, it’s fine. I just… I’m gonna shut up,” she said quickly and he smiled. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting that.”

“No, it’s cool,” he said simply, nuzzling his nose against her neck, apparently done talking about it.

But she was not.

“You feel so good,” he whispered, kissing her neck, and she almost let him move on.

Almost.

“Okay, Mr. Change the Subject, I kinda wanna go back a bit,” she said, moving so she could see his face.

Repositioning her legs over his so she was almost straddling him, he cleared his throat. “Using my words against me.”

“Yeah,” she said, eyeing him. “Like, I need more there. Not that it changes anything, but I kind of need to know.”

He looked down at the water, taking a deep breath. “No, I know.”

He wouldn’t look at her, and his shoulders fell. Shit, she was messing this all up. “I’m not looking at you differently, I promise.” He gave her a look, and she stressed, “I’m not!”

“You are.”

“No! It’s just crazy. You don’t seem the type to do that.”

“I was a different person then,” he said simply and she shook her head.

“I’m sorry I can’t wrap my head around it. You seem like such a stand-up guy.”

“But I wasn’t back in the day, I was shit,” he said, his voice breaking a bit. She reached for him, holding his hands.

“Whoa, I don’t want to upset you. You don’t owe me anything; you don’t have to tell me anything that is uncomfortable,” she said quickly. She was surprised how upset she got for him. She didn’t want to hurt him, she didn’t want him to relieve a shitty past, she didn’t like the look on his face. The look of pure defeat and regret. She couldn’t handle that. No, this wasn’t her Benji.

Her Benji.

Okay. She’d come back to that.

Looking at their hands, he sucked in a deep breath. “No, it’s a part of who I am now. I want you to know because you worry about me not liking part of your past. Well, there is a damn good chance you won’t like mine.”