Bennett
“What can I get ‘cha, handsome?”
My smile comes on easy, my elbows coming to rest on the bar as I lean closer. “Frankie, dear, sweet auntie of my unborn child, I require another round.”
Her amused laughter tickles my eardrums, and I wink at her. “Well, if you do so require it, it would be my pleasure to serve it to you. Generous tip included for my service, I have no doubt.”
“Of course, I have Archer’s wallet.”
She throws a piece of ice at me with an unguarded laugh, and I offer a lame attempt to catch it in my mouth. It misses, clearly, sober isn’t exactly my state of body or mind at this point in the late afternoon.
“So, what are you bunch of too-good-looking-to-be-fair fellas celebrating anyway?”
“No celebratory reason for our unruly behavior. Just catching up for a few beers.” I smile wide, brow rising in playfulness. I glance back toward my friends, raucous in their conversation and laughter. Smiling to myself, I turn back to Frankie, eyes following her movements as she expertly pulls our beers. “We are excessively attractive, aren’t we? I agree, it mustn’t be fair, especially to someone so plain as yourself.”
A smile tugs at her lips as she continues with her task, placing each perfectly crafted beer in front of me one at a time.
“Clearly, I’m the better looking of us all.”
She barks out a laugh, her face a front of seriousness. “Clearly.”
Placing the drinks on a tray, she pushes it toward me. “On the house. Flattery, dear father of my unborn niece, will get you everywhere.”
I wink over at her again, communicating my thanks and she gifts me a small smile before moving onto the next customer, not sparing me another glance.
Pushing my way through the thickening crowd, I make it to the boys, zero beer spilled. I grin at them triumphantly, throwing Archer’s wallet back at him. “Seems my future-sister-on-law likes me. My round was on the house.”
Archer punches my arm, his body moving slightly slower in his drunken state. “Why the fuck you take my wallet then, ass-hat?”
I shrug, lips pursed as I lift my drink to my mouth. “Was gonna be your round, ‘til it was free. Now next round is on you.”
Toby laughs, pushing the table unintentionally with a stumble of his feet. “Whoa!” He holds his hands in front of him as if he can steady the table by mind control.
Beers safe from mine and Archer’s reflexes, not Toby’s attempt at magic, Archer, Toby, and Jake collect their drinks, swallowing deeply.
Wiping his hand along his mouth, Toby eyes us seriously. “Everyone else has noticed how fucking hot Darci’s sister is right? Not just me that goes a little gah-gah when she’s around, eh?”
Archer’s wicked grin comes in full force, his attention moving to watch Frankie for a brief moment, then back to Toby. “She’s smokin’,” he agrees, glancing to Jake. “Don’t tell Belle I said that.”
Jake’s hands rise in easy agreement.
“First time I met her I couldn’t even speak, Willow had to slap me fuckin’ upside my head, much to Frankie’s amusement.” He sighs loudly on a shake of his head. “Now she plays it up, winking at me, smiling my way every time I see her.”
I push his shoulder, making his feet stumble and the table to shake once again. “Dude. That’s just Frank. Sorry to burst your little ego stroking fantasy, but she’s just bein’ friendly.”
Archer and Jake nod in agreement and Toby grabs his chest in mock heartbreak. “Stop. All of you. It can’t be true. She fancies my artistic heart and flawlessly handsome face.”
“I get arm grabs, small touches as she walks past, even in front of Belle. Freaks me the fuck out that Belle’s gonna lose her head.”
“What?” Toby huffs, slamming his beer down in exaggerated outrage. “Here I was thinking I was special.”
“I get kisses,” Jake declares on a victorious grin, the statement causing Archer and Toby’s eyes to flick toward him in shock and he quickly clarifies. “Just on the cheek, but…” he shrugs clearly proud that his interactions with Frankie trump theirs.
I shake my head at their stupidity. “Dickwads, she’s like that with everyone. I get all that too and I’m sleepin’ with her sister. It’s completely platonic. If she knows you, she’s affectionate. Fuck, you should see her with Darc. She’s always touching her, kissing her. It’s just who she is.”
“Nice.” Toby smiles, the gesture leaving no doubt as to where his imagination is taking him.
Before I can lob the beer coaster in my hand at his face, Jake steps up, slapping the back of his head.
“Sorry. Lily’s back molars are coming through, if she’s not sleeping on us, she’s screaming her fucking head off. Not only are we the walking dead, we haven’t fucked in like a week. I’m deprived.”
“Think the word you’re lookin’ for his depraved.”
“That too.”
“Are you really complaining about going without for a week?” Jake grumbles. “Seriously, man. We’ve all had to fight battles to be with our women, we’ve all gone weeks, months without getting laid. Fuck, Archer went a year or two.”
Toby shrugs casually. “Yeah, but your hot as fuck wife wasn’t taunting you with her glorious tits and fine ass and then fallin’ asleep on your sorry ass every fucking night.”
Archer laughs loudly. “Willow ain’t the type to taunt.”
Toby sulks, his lips turned down in a miserable frown. “Ain’t intentional. My wife’s the hottest fucking thing to exist. She stretches in the morning, my cock gets hard-er,” he adds as an afterthought. “Then Lily starts fucking wailin’.”
I pat his back in support, but he ignores the gesture turning on Jake. “What’s with all these hot bitches kissin’ your face? What do you have that I don’t?”
“Don’t call my wife a bitch, fuckstain.”
Toby flips Archer off, not sparing him a glance, eyes narrowed at Jake.
“What can I say.” Jake smiles smugly. “Your women can’t resist this face.”
Leaning over the table, Archer palms his brother’s face, pushing him backward. “Want me to break your face?”
I watch on in drunken happiness, the smile on my face no doubt stupid in its giddiness. I miss doing shit like this. Kicking it with my boys. With how busy our lives are nowadays, moments like these don’t come around often.
“Anyway, somethin’ you been meanin’ to tell us, Lady Killer?” Toby speaks, cautiously watching his own hand place his drink down softly. Content in his ability, he glances back up at me, victory smirk in play. “Future sister-in-law? You’re either really confused about Mick over there,” he tips his head toward the bar, “or you proposed to Darci and didn’t share the news.”
We all look over toward the bar, watching Mick, the fifty-year-old bartender, white hair and grey beard, moving beside Frankie in practiced ease. “Mick is pretty.” I nod, turning back to the boys. “Very feminine.”
Jake’s pierced eyebrow rises in question, and I stare at the metal penetrating his skin. “Is that new? The metal rod in your eyebrow?”
His hand moves upward, pinching the barbell. “Only since I was like sixteen, doucheboy. Answer the question.”
“Hmmm. Don’t think I’ve ever noticed it before.” My shoulders lift in indifference. “No proposal. Just an off the cuff comment, don’t read into it,” I dismiss, avoiding their eyes, scanning the growing crowd to distract myself.
“Told her yet?” Archer steps into my view, once again getting up in my business.
Rolling my eyes with a frustrated sigh, I place my beer on the table. “No. I don’t know what the fuck is happening between us. We can’t keep our hands off one another, it’s fucking phenomenal, but as soon as it’s done and when I say as soon as, I literally mean, we have just finished, she basically runs.”
“Aww. Ben wants to snuggle.” Toby pushes his bottom lip out, pouting.
“It would be nice, but I’d settle for my dick to be able to go down fully before she’s out the door.”
The three of them laugh and I flip them off.
“So, let me get this straight,” Toby accuses. “Darci’s ready to go, constantly. You have a dirty girl, wild pregnant sex on tap and you’re…. complaining?”
I growl at nothing, rubbing a palm along my face. “Well, when you put it like that, I sound like a little bitch. It’s not the sex, shit, I’d take that anyway I can get it from Darci Walker. It’s the immediate pullback afterward, the shutting me out. She’s carrying my baby for fuck’s sake, I want this to be real. I want her and not just sexually. I want her, me and our little girl to be a family. I don’t understand why she doesn’t want it too.”
I breathe out heavily at my outburst, concerned eyes narrowed in on me, unguarded sympathy burning in their eyes. Archer’s hand clamps on to my shoulder and a small smile tugs at his lips. “You’re having a baby girl?”
I smile affectionately at the thought, happiness bursting through my veins as it always does when I think about her. “Yeah, man.”
“I can see that, you being a dad to a little girl. Sweet, brother.” He pulls me into a one-armed hug, his normally hard set jaw relaxed into an easy smile.
“Can we just take a second to appreciate the fact that the Lady Killer himself will have a daughter?” Toby teases, and Jake steps closer again, slapping the back of his head.
“It is ironic,” he appreciates afterward, his pierced eyebrow teasing me on a lift.
I flip the two of them off. “Piss off, my baby girl will be pure, forever. Untainted by men.”
Toby barks out a laugh. “Yeah, sweet and innocent, just like her ma, eh, Ben?”
A smile tugs at the corner of my lips and I shrug innocently.
“Just gotta tell her, Ben,” Archer speaks again, his tone thoughtful. “Hiding from your feelings aren’t gonna get you there. Be honest. Tell her you love her.”
Piercing stares focus in on me and I frown at the unwanted attention. Clearing my throat, I shuffle on my feet. “Where’s the Viking at?” I change the subject jaggedly, but they let me have it, eye rolls and shaking heads laughing at me.
“Who gives a shit,” Archer bristles, downing his beer in one large swallow.
“Dude,” Toby chuckles. “You gotta let that animosity go. He’s part of the family now. You two need to hug it out.”
Archer scoffs. “Like to see you hug it out with some dipshit who tried to put his cock in Willow.”
Beer flies from my mouth on a bark of laughter, spraying Jake, who steps back, eyes closed, less than impressed. “Fuckin’ really, man?”
Wiping my mouth, I don’t attempt to hide my smile. “Sorry.”
“Yeah, you look it.”
“Back to the conversation at hand, Luca didn’t actually try to dip his cock. He may have ground it against her ass, but that’s as far as it went.”
“You lookin’ for a fuckin’ black eye?” Archer grounds out.
Toby laughs. “Just tryin’ to stir the shit without him here. I miss the two of you beating your big, manly chests, comparing cock sizes.”
I laugh then too, finding amusement in Toby’s rather apt detail of Archer and Luca’s relationship.
“To answer your question,” Jake ignores them, “still in Arizona. Expected him back by now in all honesty. He’s taking his mom’s passing pretty rough. Don’t think he expected it to hit him as hard as it has.”
“Now I feel like a dick,” Archer mumbles.
“You are a dick.” Toby grins, earning him a coaster flicked at his face.
“See,” he states, rubbing the spot on his forehead where it had hit. “Dick.”
Archer smiles, taking a step from the table. “Apparently, it’s my round. Who’s up?”
Hours later and far too many drinks to count, my feet stumble with the effort I use to keep myself upright. My body sways involuntarily and I pause at irregular intervals to steady myself.
Fuck. I. Am. Drunk.
Really fucking drunk.
I widen my eyes into the cold air of the night, willing the fresh air to sober me up, even just a little.
I’m not comatose drunk, clearly, I’ve walked all the way here without assistance. I’m still coherent enough to know I’m gonna do this. I’m gonna tell her. She needs to know how I feel.
I love her.
I love Darci Walker and I no longer accept living without her.
My shoulder barges into a lamp post and I groan out heavily in pain, tripping from the collision and falling onto my ass.
Fuck. A drunken chuckle escapes my lips and I rub my shoulder before bracing my palms on the concrete to stable myself before standing.
How much did I fucking drink?
With considerable effort, I bring my watch directly in front of my eyes, squinting at the blur of numbers and hands warping and moving before I can find enough traction to actually decipher the time. I drop my arm, shrugging to myself and wincing at the movement.
Note to self, don’t use shoulder.
Right now, time is of no consequence to me, I’m gonna declare my love to my baby momma, the later it happens, the more romantic. I’m sure I’ve seen that in a movie somewhere.
She’ll hear me out, cry, happy tears of course, before returning my sentiments, and we’ll live happily ever after. Fucking simple.
“Darci, you love me.” My eyes slide to the side, repeating the words in my mind. “No. That’s not right. I love you.”
Darci’s apartment block comes into sight as I turn into her street and for the first time since I concluded this was the grandest idea I’d ever thought of, I’m nervous. I exhale a large breath, straightening my posture, causing a shooting pain to fly through my right shoulder. “Jesus.”
Not wanting to place any more pressure than necessary on the bruised spot, I hold it softly in place, working to ease the pain as I make the final distance to Darci’s apartment. A light glows through the drapes in her living room, and I breathe a sigh of relief that she’s at least awake.
My footing slips immediately as I step onto the stairs, making me arch uncomfortably to stabilize myself. “Whoa there, tiger!”
Stable, my eyes dart across the space around me, making certain no one was witness to my almost accident. Comfortable that I’m alone in my humiliation, I test the next step, sliding my foot along it cautiously. A thin layer of ice assists the movement of my foot, letting it glide freely. I raise my eyebrows in triumph. “Sneaky fuckers. I got you.” I nod at the offending step. “I know your game.”
Ever so carefully, I begin my drunken climb up toward Darci’s apartment, vigilant with every movement of my feet.
I’ve nearly made it, almost breached the top to safety when the shrill ring of my cell vibrates against my leg, startling my cautious movements.
“Shhhh…” I reprimand at my jeans pocket, digging the hand of my uninjured arm into my pocket. That stupid one-handed movement causes my feet to slip, again, I grasp the handrail, crying out in pain from the movement of my shoulder as my back hits the cool metal and I steady myself once again.
Finally freeing my cell, I drag my thumb across the screen, unsuccessfully, the shrill sound stopping before I can pick up. It starts back up immediately, and I almost drop it from shock.
“Fuck,” I mutter, glancing at the apartments surrounding me, worried the piercing noise of my phone has woken the entire block. Pulling my hand from the railing, I move to answer the call, finally losing my fight against the ice, my right foot giving out completely and I begin my epic journey back down to the ground.
I manage with some considerable effort to curl into a ball, straining my already traumatized shoulder, as I tumble down. My face, ribs, knees, back, elbows, shoulders and every possible angle of my head connecting with the evil sleet working to kill me.
In what feels like the depth of Mt. Everest, I hit the asphalt with a hard and painful thud, my right leg twisted painfully underneath me and then I’m lost in black.
I’ve read copious recollections of people who lose consciousness of what’s experienced. Some say their life flashes before their eyes; every happy moment, every questionable path, every missed opportunity. Others say they heard everything happening around them; that their mind was very much still in the moment.
I see nothing. I hear nothing. I feel nothing. It’s fucking petrifying when you recollect on that moment. Because in those terrifying moments, you’re as good as dead.
The pain hits me first, the excruciating agony shooting through my leg, across my shoulder, in my fucking head.
My eyes struggle to open, an impossible mixture of bright lights and blackness competing to overtake.
My name repeatedly echoes in my ears. Slowly, at first, the syllables rushed together.
“Fuck. Bennett, please wake up. Shit,” the feminine voice stutters on a shaky breath.
I try to focus on her face, her tanned skin rosying at her cheekbones. Her black eyes blinking rapidly in her face.
“Frankie,” I cough out, cringing in pain.
“Oh, thank fuck.” Her hand covers her eyes, a relieved exhale of air brushing over my face.
“Fuck,” I groan in agony, shooting daggers attacking my entire body. This feels like my ending. Left to die in the cold winter of the night.
Before I got the chance to declare my undying love.
Figures.
After a few torturous minutes, my panic-stricken mind chills and my realization that death may be somewhat far-fetched settles in my mind and I take stock of my situation.
I’m certain my drunkenness is numbing a large portion of my pain, which is saying a whole lot because, holy fucking shit, I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck. I attempt to move my twisted leg but stop immediately, the sharp edge of pain hitting me once again.
A shrill sounding alarm cuts off my thoughts and I curse at the intensity of the sound.
“Seems this offending little fucker seemed to have made the unenjoyable trek down with you.” Frankie picks my cell up, waving it in front of my face. I squint at the screen and laugh in resentment that the screen doesn’t seem to have the slightest of cracks.
“Little fucking little cunt,” I grunt out, turning away from the screen in disgust. “How long was I out?”
Frankie shrugs. “No idea, finished my shift, walked home to find your ass turned out.”
My cell starts its incessant ringing again and Frankie moves her thumb effortlessly across the screen.
“If that was you callin’ me on repeat, know you’re dead to me,” I croak out into the night, Frankie holding the small piece of technology between us.
Archer’s deep slur meets my ear. “Ben. Where the fuck are you?”
“Laying on the concrete outside Darci’s apartment. I need you to come and get me. Like yesterday.”
The background noise quiets and even the rough sound of booze in his voice doesn’t mask his concern. “Everythin’ all right?”
“No,” Frankie worries into the line. “From what I can gather, he fell down the fucking stairs. I don’t think he can move, Archer.”
“Fuck,” he spits into the line before it goes dead.
“Calling the ambulance, Bennett,” Frankie states, and I groan out loud.
She moves away, the soft echo of her voice filtering across the cold of the night. I deep breathe through the pain coursing through my veins. My breaths come shorter, my eyes see double. “Frankie,” I try to call her back, but the soft wheeze of my voice disappears before the word has escaped my lips.
I close my eyes, needing to center myself, just needing a quick moment to rest. I take my first decent breath in almost a minute and the black welcomes me back eagerly.
Toby’s laughter brings me back into consciousness, a worried sound of disbelief and concerned amusement. “Shit, Ben. What the fuck happened?”
“Fell down that fuckin’ flight of stairs,” I slur out, and my brow furrows at the slow and incoherent sound of my words.
Standing over me, Archer’s troubled stare rakes over my body. “Able to move your legs?”
I nod quickly, giving him the peace of mind he needs for his large body to visibly dispel the worry coiling tight in his frame.
“Like, from the very top?” Jake questions, looking to the stairs with a pained expression.
“Not quite. Three-quarters of the way.”
“Fuck, dude. You could’ve fuckin’ died.”
I bark out an unamused laugh. “Feels like I did.”
“Found him unconscious,” Frankie murmurs softly to Archer. “Lost consciousness again when I was calling an ambulance. Only just came to.”
Archer looks at me, a look of concern creasing his face.
“Ben, buddy, I’m gonna need you to stay awake, okay? Focus on Toby’s ugly mug.”
Toby smiles wide, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “What the hell were ya doin’ here, Lady Killer? Playin’ Romeo?”
I smile sheepishly. “Pretty much.”
“So, the leg’s most likely broken,” Archer comes back into view. “Takin’ stock of everything else, your face is pretty bruised and cut up, what’d ya fall face first?”
I lift the hand of my uninjured arm to lightly touch the sensitive parts of my face. “Nah, tucked myself into a ball. Face caught a few blows.” Rubbing a finger along my nose, I grimace. “My nose feels as though it’s broken.”
“Anything else?”
“My right shoulder is fucked. I axed it on the way over, running into a lamp post. Guess that shoulda been my first sign that this was a bad idea.”
“More damage done through the fall. No doubt broken as well. Possibly a cracked rib or two as well. Shit, brother, you did some damage.” He laughs then, heavy and deep, on a worried shake of his head.
Attempting to light a smoke, Toby struggles to flick the flame of his lighter, swaying with the pull of the booze flooding his system. “We callin’ the ambulance or attempting to cart him to the hospital ourselves? Just sayin’ might be a bit far to walk carryin’ his sorry ass.” The words are mumbled around the butt of his cigarette as he finally succeeds in burning the ember long enough for it to catch. He breathes deeply as nicotine fills his lungs, blowing rings of smoke into the air as he waits for direction.
“Called an ambulance,” Frankie answers Toby, her eyes still focused on me.
“BENNETT, oh my God! Are you okay?” Darci’s panicked yell hits me at the same time I see her. She starts toward the stairs, dressed only in loose fitting pajama pants and tank, her swollen stomach magnified by the tight material.
“Darci,” I yell, causing an almighty pain to shoot through my body. “Do. Not. Walk down those stairs. They’re dangerous. I’m fuckin’ serious, baby. I don’t want you to slip.”
Her face, still contorted with worry, softens slightly as she reaches the top of the stairs. She lifts her foot slightly, holding onto the railing for support as she shows me her snow boots. She smiles shyly. “Just being cautious.”
She holds the railing as she makes her way down to me, Frankie moving up the stairs with complete ease to help her down. I breathe out a sigh of relief for Frankie in that moment, thankful she’s around to help Darci when I can’t.
Kneeling on the cold ground beside me, Darci’s hand rests softly on my cheek, tears stinging her eyes. “You crazy man, what have you done?”
My eyes scan her, taking in her sleep-creased face and mussed hair. “Wanted to see you, Riding Hood. Shit, Darc, even half asleep you’re so fuckin’ beautiful. I just wanted to see you,” I state again, quietly, soft enough that our conversation is private. She still blushes, the pink stain highlighting her freckled cheekbones.
“Has someone called an ambulance?” She looks between our friends, her breath hitching.
“Of course, babe. It’ll be here any minute.”
“Baby,” I pull her attention back to me, moving my uninjured arm to hold her hand. “Few scrapes and bruises is all,” I lie, the grogginess in my head coming back, causing two Darci’s to look down at me with outright panic. “Right leg’s a bit t-ten… tennnn,” I breathe heavily. “Tender.”
The black welcomes me again, this time eerily, shadowed by a loud shriek of hysteria.
Next time I wake it’s to a ruckus. Lights are flashing, sirens wailing, people I don’t know are calling my name, but all I can hear is Darci crying.
“Darci,” I call out, attempting to move, but I can’t seem to shift an inch. “Darci,” I try again, louder this time, yanking at whatever is covering my mouth.
A middle-aged man moves into my sight, but not Darci. No sign of her. “Mr. James, I’m Warren, I’m gonna need you to look at me and confirm you can hear me,” he tests, a light shining near my eyes.
“DARCI,” I yell, her soft cries still stinging my ears.
“Right here.” She grabs onto my hand, her face awash with unrestrained grief. “I’m right here.”
“Mr. James,” Warren speaks again, and after a beat of looking at Darci, I turn to him once again. “Yeah, I can hear you.”
“Good,” he nods. “You’re all strapped onto the stretcher, we’re gonna lift you into the ambulance and take a quick ride to the hospital.”
I nod solemnly.
“We’re just gonna need you to stay awake, okay? No more nodding off.” He smiles reassuringly, and I breathe into the mask he places over my face once again.
“I’m coming with,” Darci stammers out, and I shake my head, removing the oxygen mask once again.
“Baby, you’re pregnant. You need your rest, I’ll call you as soon as they’ve patched me up.”
Pulling her hand from mine, she crosses her arms over her chest, scowling at me through the constant rain of tears. “Bennett James, I am pregnant, not a fucking invalid,” she shouts. “Unlike you seem to be at this time. I will be getting into that ambulance with you to make sure you’re okay. Not for you, for me, because in less than four months we’re having a baby and I need to make sure all your limbs will be intact to assist me with that. Understood?”
I watch her for a moment, my smile twitching at my lips. Glancing toward Archer, I raise my eyebrows. He understands my meaning, his lips pursed in contemplative appreciation before he returns my grin on a nod of his head.
Darci Walker. Unassuming firecracker. My unassuming firecracker.
“Understood,” I give in, turning back to her confused face, her eyes flicking between Archer and I.
Picking up the oxygen mask to cover my mouth again, I pause. “Frankie, babe, grab my girl a jacket for me, yeah and meet us at the hospital.”
“Sure thing, Romeo.”
“Need anything else, Lady Paradox? A book or anything for while you wait?”
Darci stares at me quietly for a moment, and I wish more than anything I could rid the candid fear drowning her amber colored eyes. Finally turning to Frankie, she places her hand back into mine, sniffing heavily to pull her emotions into check. “My handbag is by the front door; my keys are in the kitchen and my book is beside my bed.”
Frankie turns without speaking, prancing back up the stairs, turning back to me to wink on her successful ascent.
“Show off,” I grumble, just as I’m loaded into the back of an ambulance.
Fuck. I’m an idiot. This repeating mantra seems to be my last coherent thought before, against Warren’s plea, I let myself nod back off into unconsciousness.