The Memory of You (Sanctuary Sound #1)(104)

“What’s happening?” He scooted across the grass to sit beside her. “Are you hurt?”

She blinked at him, gulping down snot. “I’m in trouble, Benny. I don’t know what to do.”

Benny’s puzzled expression morphed to concern as he hugged her. “What kind of trouble?”

She couldn’t tell him. Couldn’t face him if he knew. He’d never look at her the same. Neither would her dad. They’d be wrecked, and for what? They couldn’t help her. She’d have to save herself.

“Sis, talk to me,” he pleaded.

She hugged her knees to her chest. “Ryan and I had a fight.”

“About what?”

“Trust.” Not exactly a lie.

Benny’s face pinched. “Ryan doesn’t trust you?”

With good reason, she thought. Then again, he’d proved himself to be less than trustworthy, too. “It’s complicated.”

“You’re not making any sense.” Benny gently touched his goose egg, which had swelled to the size of a golf ball. “Damn, this hurts.”

Taking full advantage of a way out of his interrogation, she pushed herself upright and motioned to help him up. “Maybe you should get that looked at. You could be concussed or worse.”

He waved her off, like a good Lockwood would. No need for advice or help. Lockwoods could handle anything on their own. “I’m good. Now tell me what Quinn did to upset you.”

“It’s fine. I’m overreacting,” she lied. “I can manage my own problems with Ryan, thanks.”

Benny reverted to teasing, per their norm. “Must be pretty bad for you to cry like a girl.”

She hiccupped. “I am a girl.”

“Well, don’t feel bad. Not like you had a choice.” He yanked her ponytail.

His playful banter made her feel less the victim and more like her old self. That’s all she wanted to be—just Steffi Lockwood. Not a victim. Not damaged.

“So how about tomorrow? Join me on a ten-miler? You can burn off all your tension.”

“No.” She glanced over her shoulder at the light shining through the screen door. “I’m too busy now with all these new projects.”

“Aw, come on. You said you’d do this with me.” He set his hands on his hips. “I can’t believe you’re quitting on me. This is like the time you said you’d help me remodel my kitchen and then left me hanging halfway through the job.”

“I sent someone to help when I couldn’t take enough time off work to finish.”

“Not the point.” Benny’s accusation echoed Ryan’s point about her spotty follow-through.

“I’m sorry, Benny. I can’t be in two places at once.”

“Always some excuse. Guess I’m on my own.” He grimaced. “You seem better now, so I’ll get going.”

“See you later.”

“Need an ice pack.” He touched his head while walking away. “If I didn’t know you loved me, I’d think you were trying to kill me.”

“Need to work on my aim,” she called, relieved that he hadn’t pressed her more about her crying jag, yet saddened, too. And curious. Did everyone in her family keep secrets? What might Benny be hiding? And why hadn’t she ever sought more from them?

She went back inside the house alone, still shaken. She didn’t know how to lean on people. Or ask for help. Or be vulnerable. Those traits weren’t conducive to intimacy. She’d never have any loving relationship without that.

The manila envelope mocked her. She stared at it, recalling Ryan’s face last night. His tone. His contrition. His love. She picked it up and shoved it into her sweatshirt pocket. Undecided about whether she wanted to read it, she locked up the house and went home.

“You’re back earlier than I expected,” Claire said from the couch, where she’d curled up with her laptop. She set it aside. “How are you?”

God, she hoped that question didn’t become a regular thing from Claire. Steffi sank onto a chair. “I almost killed Benny.”

“What?” Claire’s mouth fell open. “Is he okay? What happened?”

“He surprised me from behind. I hit him with a bag of broken wood.”

“Oh, goodness.” Claire slapped her forehead.

“He’s okay, thankfully.” Steffi tossed the envelope on the coffee table. “But I’m not.”

Claire glanced at the folder. “Is that the report?”

She nodded without a word, picking at her cuticles without looking at Claire.

“Did you read it?” Claire asked.

She shook her head.

“Do you want me to read it?”

Steffi shook her head. “I don’t want anyone to read it. I wish Ryan hadn’t. I don’t want you two to think of that when you look at me. Like I’m pathetic and helpless. Powerless. Victimized.”

“I’m the last person who’d think of you that way.” Claire sat forward. “I’m sorry it happened. I wish it hadn’t. I wish I could change it or make it better.” She paused. “But it isn’t the defining thing about you unless you let it be. Trust me, Stef, I know something about this. And if you let this file—this history—be what keeps you from being healthy and happy with Ryan, then you’re giving those creeps even more power over your life than what they took that one night.”