Chapter 30
Jill
COLLEGE STATION WAS still a ghost town, so the drive home took less than ten minutes. I’d taken great care to ease around corners and into stops, hoping to keep Bennett as comfortable as possible. Turning into the parking lot of my condo community, I saw it was basically deserted, too. Given it was three days before Christmas, it wasn’t surprising. People who had a home (and were speaking to their parents) went there for Christmas. Then there was me.
“This doesn’t look like my home.” He hadn’t even opened his eyes. I don’t know why he was being so difficult. I was almost positive he didn’t have a home, so I decided to test my theory.
I threw the car in park and turned to face him. “The way I see it, this is the closest thing you’ve got to a home, so suck it up.” His eyes popped open. Yep, I hit the nail on the head with that one. Bennett was homeless, living in the library I’d guess, but that could be sorted out later. I had more important things to worry about.
He was slow to get out of the car, and even slower getting up to the porch, but he refused my help each time I offered, stubborn ass.
No sooner had I opened the door than Bennett, in an impressive show of renewed strength, plowed through and headed straight to the shower. So predictable. It was his escape, the one place he knew I wouldn’t go to confront him. Well, he was wrong. I wasn’t giving up and if he didn’t come out, I was going in.
I wondered what he thought when he walked in and found the clothes I’d grabbed for him. I had stopped at Target after he kicked me out of his hospital room the day before and braved the last minute Christmas shoppers to make sure he’d be comfortable once he came home. I’d been pretty thorough, purchasing T-shirts, sweatpants, socks, and boxers. I stood on the aisle with the soap and bodywash, smelling every bar and bottle they had, trying to replicate the clean, piney scent that always lingered on his skin. I must have looked like a fool, especially when I found the right one and jumped up and down a few times. Hopefully he’d find that on the counter, where I’d also left him a comb, deodorant, and a toothbrush.
Now that I had him, I planned to keep him.
I put a Stouffer's lasagna in the oven, then decided to tackle the mess in my bedroom. I hadn’t come this far into the house since the EMTs rolled Bennett out on a stretcher, and it needed a once-over. It probably needed more than that, but from what I knew about Bennett, once the water started, I had roughly ten minutes.
I ripped off the old bedding, throwing it in a pile by the door. I had a spare set, so I’d wash it later. The exact moment I grabbed the spare sheets from the linen closet, the bath water started on the other side of the wall, quickly followed by the stuttered spurt of the shower. My heart was beating post-cardio fast and I ran back into my room and wrestled with the fitted sheet. I heard movement, and once I think he elbowed the wall, making me jump. I pulled the top sheet up and yanked on a new quilt just as the water cut off.
My shaky legs bounced with each step as I walked back into the kitchen. My breaths were fast and my heart beat even faster, waiting for him to come out. Why was I so nervous?
Lucky for me, I didn’t have to wait long. He stepped out of the steamy bathroom, hair neatly combed, and completely dressed. His pants hung low on his hips, loose enough for that casual, I’m not trying look, but tight enough to highlight the strength in his muscular thighs. He’d pulled on a grey T-shirt, the closest I could find to the army shirts I was so used to seeing him in. On his feet, he’d pulled on the thick, white socks.
The sight of him made me want to cry. I couldn’t believe he was here. Watching him being carried out on a gurney, so pale and lifeless, put me face-to-face with the possibility he may not recover. And now he was standing in front of me. And grumpy or not, I couldn’t help but appreciate the beautiful, broken man standing in front of me.
He’d been running a towel over his damp hair, but he stopped when he saw me and then stomped into the kitchen. He insisted on banging every cabinet door during the process of looking for a glass and when he found it, he filled it from the tap and I heard him drink it all down in one gulp. What was meant to make me mad just made me smile and I was glad the couch faced away from the kitchen where he couldn’t see me. He was acting like a child and I found humor in that, but he didn’t need to catch me laughing at him.
“Take me home.” He was behind me and I stood to face him, the couch a barrier between us like a line in the sand. But he was underestimating me. Because once a girl realizes she deserves better, she’s relentless in her pursuit for what she wants. And I wanted the man standing in front of me.
“And by home, you mean… the library?” I crossed my arms over my chest, waiting for an answer. But when his jaw clenched, and his shoulders dropped, I’d have given anything for a do over.
“Look, I’m sorry.” I rushed around to his side of the couch. Reaching for his hand, I tried to explain. “I didn’t mean—” But he recoiled at my touch. Which was just mean.
I stood there, frozen in shock, the events of the last days, weeks, months even, swirling around in my head. Finally, I just asked.
“What the hell is your problem?” The closer I came to him, the more he backed away. It was like a slow-motion cat and mouse chase as he circled around the couch to escape. But I was quicker and met up with him on the other side. This wasn’t nearly over.
“Look, I don’t have a problem. I just—” His sigh was deep and rocked his whole body. It was heartbreaking. He looked defeated, like the first time I saw him walking out of Mrs. Lowe’s office... what seemed like a lifetime ago.
“You just what, Bennett?” We were in a standoff and I wasn’t backing down without an explanation. “What did I do to make you treat me this way? Why are you being like this?” I was choking. This wasn’t, at all, going according to plan. “Why won’t you let me touch you?” Because that’s what I wanted. I wanted to touch him. I wanted to make him feel better. I wanted to help him and be a part of his life. I wanted… him.
“God, Jill.” He ran his hand through his freshly combed hair, mussing it up into something even better. “Why can’t you just see that I’m not good enough for you?” The pain in his eyes almost brought me to my knees. Is that what he thought?
“You? Not good enough for me? ” I looked around, ready to put an end to all of this. It was time to air the dirty laundry and he was going first. I grabbed a long, black umbrella from the coat rack nearby. “Is it because of this?” I used the metal tip to lift the hem of his shirt, exposing the burns I’d caught glimpses of while caring for his fever. He stood like a statue, his jaw and fists clenching in time with one another.
“Or is it because of this?” I reared back and hit the shin of his right leg as hard as I could with the umbrella. He lost his balance for a fraction of a second as the sound of the umbrella hitting whatever he was hiding under those pants echoed through the house. His eyes got wide and he stared at me, like I’d lost my mind… and maybe I had.
“You’ve got scars. And you’re missing a leg. So?” Tears poured down my cheeks at the emotional outburst and the relief it brought just to get this all out. “What makes you think you’re so different?” He wasn’t moving, wasn’t speaking. I was scared I’d broken him. After a few beats, he slumped down on the couch.
“Jill, I’m not—” I stopped him with my hand. I wasn’t ready to hear it. What if this was it? What if this was the last time we were together? What if he walked out of this place and never looked back? I couldn’t bear the thought. I closed my eyes, struggling to gain control. But not for too long. Because if these were the last moments we spent with each other, I wanted to remember everything.
“Everyone has scars, Bennett.”
“No.” He shook his head, looking straight up at me. “Not everyone. Not you. I’m not even a whole man and you... you’re perfect.” I gasped.
“Perfect?” A maniacal laugh slipped from my lips. “You want to see perfect?”