CHAPTER 10

Ben

“Stacie,” I say in greeting, when Isla hands me the phone.

Those two have been planning out our Thanksgiving trip to Albuquerque in minute detail. It’s giving me a headache. It’s my own fault; Isla had been getting increasingly anxious about meeting my sister, and I thought it would be easier to break the ice over the phone. I didn’t count on those two hitting it off so well. They talk at least once a day, mostly about color schemes and furniture. Isla had taken some photos of the interior of the house to give Stacie a sense of the space, and now the two of them are decorating. Making lists that make my head spin.

“Ben, you should rent a trailer when you come down. It would be so much cheaper than having everything shipped.” I must’ve groaned out loud, because my sister’s hearty laugh sounds in my ear. “Don’t be dramatic, brother dear. I’m just trying to be practical.” I don’t even try to hide my incredulous snort.

“Practical is a bed, a couch, a TV—that’s it.”

“What would you sleep under? Where would you eat? You need a coffee table, chairs, linens, china, cutlery, pots, hand towels...the list is so long.”

“Stacie,” I press the bridge of my nose with my fingers. “You’re calling at seven in the morning, waking us up, to talk about fucking hand towels?” Isla chuckles as she slips out of bed, and tugs on sweats, before padding to the kitchen.

“You’re sleeping?” My sister feigns innocence, but I don’t buy it for a second.

“I was, and now my bed is getting cold because you got my girl all fired up about fucking hand towels. Jesus.”

“That’s a dollar for my swear jar, Uncle Ben.” I groan louder. That conniving brat put her kid on the phone.

“Hey, kiddo, what happened to a quarter? You’ll have me in the poor house at these rates,” I tease; smiling despite the gray hairs my little sister is giving me. Her kid is the bomb.

“I’m saving up for a dog. It’ll go faster with dollars.”

“Smart,” I manage, chuckling at Mak’s irrefutable logic. “I’ll pay my dues next week when we get there, kid. Put your mom back on?”

There’s some rustling on the line and a mumbled, “Grab your backpack,” before Stacie comes back on the line.

“I’ve gotta run, Ben,” she says. “Gotta get the kid to daycare and get to the office.”

“So Mak wants a dog?” I ignore her plea, going in for a little payback.

“Yup. Not gonna happen,” she says in a low conspiratory voice. “I may have carefully suggested a Bernese Mountain dog, knowing they’re pricy and almost impossible to find in New Mexico.”

“I don’t know,” I argue. “Shouldn’t be that hard here in Colorado, and it would make a perfect uncle gift for Christmas, don’t you think?”

“Don’t you dare,” Stacie hisses, making me laugh, because I have her just where I want her.

“Think about that next time you can’t wait to discuss fucking hand towels and chase Isla from my bed.”

“You’re evil,” she spits out.

“You bet,” I counter. “But you love me anyway. We’ll see you guys Wednesday.”

“I do, even though you’re the biggest pain in my ass. See you Wednesday, and don’t forget, Isla’s ass is mine for some Black Friday shopping fun!”

I toss the phone on the bed beside me, fold my arms behind my neck, and watch as Isla comes sauntering in, two steaming mugs in her hands. Gray sweats hanging off her hips, an old big tank barely covering her tits, and hair sticking out everywhere, she’s the best part of every morning.

Even more so when bringing coffee.

She hands me mine and balances the remaining mug, while climbing back in bed, snuggling in beside me.

“Morning,” she mumbles with a sweet smile.

“Hmmm,” I growl, bending down for a kiss. I prefer show to tell, especially before caffeine. Isla’s lips smile against mine.

“Sorry we woke you.”

“You, I don’t mind,” I assure her. “My sister? Other story.”

“I like her.” Isla takes a sip of her coffee and looks at me from under her sleep heavy eyelids.

“That’s good. I’m pretty sure the feeling is mutual, seeing as she’s calling you at the butt crack of fucking dawn,” I complain, making her chuckle. “You morning people are deviants. It’s unnatural.”

-

It’s freezing cold.

My fingers are icicles, with the wind making the air feel much colder than the forty degrees showing on the thermometer outside the trailer door. I should’ve grabbed an extra pair of gloves.

Isla’s taken to making hot lunches for the crew. Something she wanted to do to keep her busy until all the structural and electrical work is done, and we can have some heat at the house. We’ll need it before we start painting and putting in floors. We, meaning Isla and me; our way to make the house a bit more ours.

Hard to believe Jim and his guys will be gone after we get back from Albuquerque. Jim’s going to meet us on Monday, to officially hand everything over, but the work should be done. Isla and I have already agreed we’ll throw a big barbecue in the spring, when we’ve got the inside all done and I have the deck built.

But for today, it’s a big pot of goulash and fresh biscuits on the menu.

She’s already got the fire going for some heat when I drive up. Since there’s no way we all fit in the trailer, she dragged two more picnic tables to our site and set them up around the fire pit. I head inside, where she’s just pulling a tray of biscuits from the small oven, and I press a kiss to the top of her head.

“Need me to do anything?”

“Just take the pot out when you’re done?” she says, tilting her face back and offering me a soft smile.

“Yup.”

I shrug out of my heavy coat before stepping into the bathroom. I won’t fit with it on; I tried, to Isla’s great hilarity. Damn bathroom. I can’t wait until we’ve got the water running hot in the new house. Now that’s a bathroom, with a separate shower stall, large enough for me plus one. I’m not one for baths, but the two person Jacuzzi thing Isla wanted in there is definitely something I wouldn’t mind trying, as long as she’s in there with me. Not much longer.

I wash my hands, struggle back into my coat, and grab the massive pot taking up two burners on the stove, and carry it outside. Isla’s already greeting the guys and has hot coffee and bottles of water on the tables. Before long everyone is chowing down.

“Anybody happen to know where I can get my hands on a Bernese Mountain dog?”

Isla

I haven’t said a word.

Ben didn’t offer and I didn’t ask. Not when he brought up the subject of a dog, and not when the guys spent the rest of the meal discussing the drawbacks and merits of one dog breed versus another. He’d just winked at me, and although I should probably still feel a little left out of whatever he has going on in his mind, by the time the guys head back to work, I’m already getting used to the idea of a dog. So when he follows me inside to kiss me goodbye, and tells me he’ll explain later, I don’t make a fuss and just let him go.

After cleaning dishes, getting rid of the garbage, and sorting the leftovers, I’m curled up on the couch with my laptop on my knees, Googling the hell out of the breed he mentioned. Big hairy beasts, but the puppies are adorable. They don’t stay small like that, though. My mind immediately starts working on a new idea for a series. Discovering the world through the eyes of a dog, or something like that. Images shot from a puppy’s eye level as it grows and learns. Furniture, trees, people, other creatures.

I’m jotting down notes and ideas when a ping announces the arrival of a new email. Expecting one from Nate at SouthWest Printing, who was supposed to send me a quote on handling my online print orders, I quickly click on my mail server. Not from Nate.

The email isn’t long, just a handful of words and a picture, but its impact is lasting.

The image is of a boy, maybe eleven or twelve, with a shock of dark hair falling into his eyes, which are an eerily familiar ice blue color. The boy is smiling at the camera, his straight white teeth framed by full lips and a strong jaw, unusual for a child. It’s the caption that has me toss aside my laptop and rush into the bathroom, puking up my lunch in the small chemical toilet.

-

I hear the crunch of feet coming down the path to the dock.

I’m not sure how long I’ve been out here, but daylight is almost gone and with it the temperature has dipped. I’m bundled up, though. The insulated sleeping bag has kept me mostly warm, except perhaps my face, even though I have my beanie pulled down over my eyebrows.

“What are you doing out here?” Ben sounds curious and perhaps a little concerned, but I can’t bring myself to answer. Not even when he drops down beside me. “Pixie?” His gloved hand tilts my head his way and his eyes roam my face. “Are you upset about the dog? I should probably explain what brought that about; I should’ve probably done that before I threw you for a loop. It’s for Mak, and Stacie. Well, technically it’s not for Stacie, she doesn’t want a dog but Mak does, and I thought—”

“Did you look at my laptop?” I cut him off, my voice raspy with cold. I’ve never heard Ben talk that fast before and I find it slightly unnerving. I can’t help but wonder if it’s guilt that has him ramble. The startled look on his face seems genuine, though.

“Laptop? Why? Did I miss something?” He sounds sincere in his confusion. “Whatever it is, can we get out of the cold to deal with it?”

My legs are stiff from being folded under me, for however long it’s been, and Ben’s hand shoots out to steady me.

“What the fuck?” he bites off, noticing my involuntary flinch at his touch.

“I...” I start to apologize but my head is such a mess, I can’t even find the right words. So I shake my head, pull the sleeping bag tight around me, and lead the way to the trailer.

Once inside, I fold the sleeping bag, attempting to calm myself while buying time. But Ben doesn’t wait; he goes straight for the laptop, which is still lying where I tossed it on the couch. He sits down and perches the computer on his knees, while he pulls off his gloves with his strong, white teeth.

Blowing some heat on one hand, he uses the other to open the laptop. I’m afraid to move and observe his reaction closely, looking for the truth in his face.

“What the hell? Who is this kid?” he asks, looking up at me puzzled.

“I was hoping you could tell me.” I try to be strong but my voice betrays me. Ben immediately looks back at the image, a little closer now; his eyebrows draw together.

“Is this some kind of joke? Did you know he has a son?—is that kid supposed to be mine?”

“Is it?” I counter, looking into his now angry eyes.

“You think maybe I would’ve told you if I had a kid?” he snaps, before looking back at the screen. “This the same woman who wrote you before. I told you I don’t know any Julie Winton.”

“What are you doing?” I ask when he starts two-finger typing furiously.

“Getting to the bottom of this,” he growls when he’s done. He puts the laptop aside and pulls out his phone.

“I have a favor to ask. I just forwarded two emails to you. They were sent to Isla. Can you see if you can find out where they’re coming from, and who the fuck that is? Much obliged.” Without another word he ends the call and tosses his phone on the table.

Guilt is starting to eat at me when he throws me a look of disbelief. Is it possible I jumped to conclusions?

“Ben...” I start, reaching out, but he pushes my hand away.

“Not now, Isla. Not fucking now.”

I watch as he grabs a couple of beers from the fridge, walks right by me, and heads outside, slamming the door shut behind him. The impact snaps something inside me, and for the first time this afternoon, I let the tears come.

I’ve never felt anger like this from Ben before. The look on his face, like he’s almost disgusted to be in the same space with me. It hurts. Everything hurts.

-

I hear the squeak of the spring on the door.

I’m not sure how long I’ve been lying here in the dark, but long enough to have my body shudder with every breath from all the crying. I kicked off my boots, and my pants at some point, and curled up on my side, the blankets coiled up around my ear.

“Shit, Pixie,” I hear his deep voice say, full of regret, before I feel the mattress shift and his large warm body shape itself to mine. “Christ, baby. Don’t cry. You’re killing me.”

Clearly that only makes me cry harder.

“I was so mad you’d think I’d keep something like that from you, I didn’t stop to consider what it looked like from your side.” He slides his hand over my belly. “I’m sorry.”

The softly whispered words trigger me to turn around and wrap myself around him.

“That’s my line,” I tell him, still struggling to get my tears under control. “He just looks so much like you.”

“I know,” he mumbles in my hair. “I don’t know what this is about, but I promise you, I’ll find out. That was Damian on the phone. He’s got a guy who’s good at this stuff.”

Ben pushes up on his elbow, brushing aside the hair stuck to my wet face.

“I’m sorry,” I offer when I notice the pained look on his face. “So much good stuff is happening, it’s been easy to lull myself into thinking I’ve processed it. Guess I haven’t,” I turn my face away, but Ben turns it back, his thumb stroking my cheek.

“Wish I could make it easier, but I can’t. Trust me, though, that I would never do anything to make it more difficult. I have no secrets from you. I have no reason to lie to you, especially about something as major as having a kid.” He lies back down and pulls my head down on his shoulder. “We’re bound to run into rough spots here and there, right? We’ve just gotta trust we’ll struggle through together.”

For a man who would get by using only the bare minimum of words needed, he sure has a way with them. Whether it’s the meaning of the words he uses, or the fact he’s taking the time to say them at all, I’m touched deeply.

So deeply I don’t even try to stop as my feelings slip from my mouth.

“Lying here, feeling your heat, hearing the steady beat of your heart—knowing I’ll get to wake up tomorrow morning to the same thing—it means everything. I want to freeze the moment, frame it, so whenever I get lost I can use it to find my way home.”

“Jesus, Isla...” His voice is hoarse as his arms tighten around me.

“I love you, Ben.”