Chapter Nine

“JESUS CHRIST.” Liam stared at the wild jumble of thorny vines in Seth’s backyard. “It’s apocalyptic. Instead of pruning, should we try napalm?”

“Not unless you want your first meeting with Dinah to go pretty damn poorly,” Seth advised from his safe spot on the porch. He had Tamara in his arms, since Dinah was off running errands, and he had already declared that as much as he’d like to help with the raspberries, his childcare duties had to come first. “That’s just a year’s growth. Well, two years, I guess. The bastards are clever—they grow the cane one year, the berries the next, so you can’t kill ’em until after their second year. Not if you want the berries.”

“They sell raspberries at the grocery store, don’t they?”

“Sacrilege. Those berries aren’t as tasty, plus they cost a lot. This is nature’s bounty here, buddy. These plants were put on the planet to provide juicy nourishment to my friends and family. They can’t be disrespected.”

Ben returned from the shed, carrying a set of loppers, a bow rake, and two pairs of heavy leather gloves. “It’s a ritual,” he told Liam. “Me doing the work, Seth preaching about the sanctity of my labors. Tradition.”

“You could think of it as penance,” Seth suggested. “If you bring me a few promising canes, I’ll whip up a couple crowns of thorns.” Then he frowned at Liam. “Or maybe just one.”

Liam didn’t respond to that dig. Seth had been reasonably courteous and welcoming when Liam had shown up at his front door, but that didn’t mean he’d forgotten his totally valid grudge. Liam was on probation, and he’d be stupid to push for more.

“I think we can skip the accessories,” Ben said. He handed a pair of gloves to Liam, then said, “I’ll start with the loppers and you can be my faithful assistant?”

“Maybe not ‘faithful,’” Seth interjected from the porch.

Ben ignored the interruption. “You can use the rake to pull the canes up and away from my face. I’ll duck under and cut the old canes close to the ground, and you’ll use the rake to pull them free? We can switch after a while.”

“Maybe we should pull them all out and plant something else instead,” Liam suggested, but he reached out with the rake as directed. “Strawberries don’t have thorns, do they? Blueberries? Those are delicious. Goji berries? Really, there are hardly any berries that do have thorns. Seems like it’d be easy to avoid this nonsense.”

“There are even thornless raspberries,” Ben said. He looked up from his crouched position and smiled. “But they don’t taste as good.”

“The blood of the gardener is good fertilizer?”

“Must be.”

They worked quietly for a while, falling into easy, companionable teamwork. After twenty minutes, with only a few fairly shallow scratches to Ben’s face, they switched jobs and kept going, then switched back when it seemed fair.

It felt good. Well, no. The job itself felt backbreaking, scratchy, frustrating, and pointless. But working with Ben? Being with Ben? It was frighteningly perfect.

Little huffs of frustration followed by rueful laughter when the berry bushes didn’t cooperate. Shared triumph when a stubborn cane surrendered. Almost telepathic awareness of each other’s plans and actions, anticipation and communication and synergistic intent….

Was it like sex? Well, no, not unless sex with Ben was a lot thornier than Liam remembered it. Maybe it was just like friendship.

“You guys remember you’ll have to burn the old stuff, right?” Seth called down from the porch. “You might want to get started on that soonish so you don’t have too big of a pile built up.”

Yeah, friendship, with all the thorns. “It’s a good thing you’re holding a child,” Liam said, “or you’d be getting some pretty clear suggestions for where you could shove any brambles that need to be stored before burning.”

“But I am holding a child.” Seth lifted Tamara up, Lion King style, and displayed her to the backyard. “She is my sword and my shield, my heart and my helm—”

“Your daddy’s a bit loopy, Tam,” Ben called.

Tamara giggled and stretched her arms out in a better approximation of flying.

Liam stood a little too quickly and felt a raspberry thorn snag at his face. An itchy sting, not even real pain. Only that, in exchange for the privilege of being part of this moment, part of this silly, meaningless, nothing piece of time.

But Ben stepped closer and pulled off a glove, then reached up and ran his thumb over Liam’s cheek, and the nothingness turned into eternity. The two of them standing together, facing each other, Ben touching Liam, Liam staring back, afraid to move or even breathe in case it broke the spell.

Ben held his thumb up. “You’re bleeding,” he said gently.

“Fertilizer,” Liam managed.

“I don’t want to send you back to the city all scratched up. You arrived in pristine condition. You should leave here the same way.”

The words were right there. I don’t have to leave. Or even I don’t want to leave. I could stay here and the scratch would heal and all of this, all of everything, could just fade away as a lesson learned.

But of course Liam couldn’t say that. He wouldn’t say it, at least. He’d been impulsive before and Ben had gotten hurt; he needed to be more controlled, more careful now. He couldn’t give in to some ridiculous berry-induced euphoria. He was an adult, and he had his own life, his own ambitions and dreams, far away from North Falls. Far away from Ben Harding.

And his phone rang as if on cue. It broke the spell, which was probably a good thing, and he stepped away as he fished the device out of his pocket.

It was Marius, Tristan’s assistant. There was no reason for him to be calling, surely? The thing with Tristan was done.

But it wouldn’t be truly done until it was finished in Liam’s head, and that wouldn’t happen until he was able to take a simple phone call without his chest racing and his stomach churning unpleasantly. He made himself answer.

“Liam,” Marius said. He sounded agitated. “We need you here—Tristan needs you.”

“He needs me for what?”

“He’s had a heart attack—well, maybe. He’s with the doctors now. We’re at the hospital. But he asked me to get hold of you. It only makes sense—he won’t be back at work for a while at least, and he needs someone who can hold it all together for him. That’s you, right?”

“I don’t work for Tristan anymore, Marius. Did the two of you forget that?”

“He’s in the hospital! He could have died! This is no time for pride or stubbornness or whatever it was that got between you two. He needs you now, Liam. Don’t let him down.”

It was an opportunity. Impossible to deny that.

Liam looked around at the ragged backyard, the half-pruned raspberry patch. Seth and his daughter. Ben.

Ben.

But Liam couldn’t live in a magical garden forever. He’d traveled back in time, but it was only for a visit. He wasn’t a kid anymore, and his adult life was in the city. It wasn’t with Ben. Was it?

“I’ll call you back in a couple minutes,” he told Marius, then hung up without waiting for a reply.

Ben was watching him, waiting.

“I might have to go back to the city,” Liam said.

Ben nodded. “Well, yeah. That’s where you live, right?”

“Soon. Like, now. I might need to go back right away. A friend—well, no, not a friend, but my boss—my former boss—is in the hospital.”

“I hope it’s nothing serious?” Polite concern. That was all.

Of course that was all, because Ben had always been the one with common sense. He’d been the one to keep his feet on the ground and stay connected to reality. He’d humored Liam’s flights of fancy, maybe even encouraged them, but he’d never indulged in them himself.

So of course he knew that this visit was something short-term. Of course he knew Liam had to go back to the city.

“They think it may be a heart attack.”

“Your car’s at my place. You’ll have to walk back there and get changed. There’s coffee still in the pot, and I have lots of travel mugs—they give them out like popcorn at teachers’ conferences. You wouldn’t have to worry about returning it or anything.”

Wow. Yeah, Ben was more than happy to see him leave.

“What about the raspberry bushes?”

“I’ll stay here and finish them off. We’ve made a good start, but it’s already pretty late in the year. Seth should have gotten this done over the winter. I should get them taken care of before they overgrow the house and eat Tamara.”

Right. Liam wasn’t needed. Ben had it all under control.

Of course he did.

Still, Liam couldn’t quite give up. “I can come back,” he said. “When I get all this sorted out? I can come back.”

Ben looked at him for far too long, and Liam braced himself for what was coming next.

COME BACK. Liam could come back. Liam could tease and tantalize, appearing and disappearing according to whatever important city events he was working around. And Ben could turn himself inside out with anticipation, then crush himself with disappointment when plans fell through. When Liam didn’t keep his promises.

Considering how early it was in the day, there was absolutely no excuse for how exhausted Ben suddenly felt. But he supposed he’d gone through more emotional highs and lows that morning than he usually managed in a week, so maybe it made sense. Made sense that he was tired, and made sense that he take steps to avoid any more draining situations.

“Obviously I can’t stop you from coming back to North Falls. I still don’t really understand what you’re looking for, here, but—I hope you find it. Assuming it’s actually here. But in terms of coming back to my house? If that’s what you meant?” He braced himself and forced a sympathetic smile. Liam was the one with a problem, not Ben. Liam should be pitied. “Probably not the best idea, right? It’s good that we cleared the air. But that was just wrapping up old business. Now that everything’s tidy, we should leave it alone.” He turned away for a moment, long enough to snap the loper blades shut around a couple raspberry canes. “Good to see you, though.” Now go. Please, just go, before you notice how my hands are shaking, how I can’t look at you, how much of a fucking loser I still am. Please leave me with at least a little dignity this time.

“Can I—” Liam’s phone trilled a notification, and he made a frustrated noise.

Ben took a deep breath, found a bit of strength, and forced a smile onto his face. “Your people need you,” he said. Then he raised his voice. “Seth? We’re down one knight in the heroic battle against evil. You might need to put some armor on and get out here.”

“But who will protect the princess?”

“The princess can help. You’re not scared of some stupid raspberry bushes, are you, Tamara?”

“Not scared,” Tamara said and began to wriggle out of Seth’s arms.

Good. A distraction. “You can come help me make plans while your daddy finds a long-sleeve shirt to shield his tender skin.” Ben started toward the porch, but he was still aware of Liam right behind him. Far too aware.

Maybe Ben should have walked faster, but he didn’t, so he was close enough to hear Liam say, “So this is…?” And there was something in his voice that made Ben want to turn around. Made him want to take Liam in his arms and comfort him, for Christ’s sake. He steeled himself and kept moving.

“Get your sleeves on, Seth,” he ordered, then half turned, careful to not make eye contact. “Okay. Good to see you, Liam.” Because Liam needed to go. He needed to get the hell out and give Ben some time to do his deep breathing and his visualizations until the bands around his chest loosened and his body stopped vibrating. “Good luck with the work thing.”

Liam, thankfully, started to move. Ben plastered on a smile that was too full, too bright. He knew he was making a fool of himself, but it was better to do this than to let Liam see him fall apart entirely.

So frustrating. So damn enraging. After all this time, after all the damn work he’d put into learning to control himself, he’d been taken apart so damn effortlessly. Breathe. Breathe in some nice green from the plants, from the spring air. Breathe out the confusion, the excitement, the fear. What color was all that? Yellow, maybe. Breathe out the yellow. Breathe in the rich blue of being around Seth and Tamara. Yeah, Tamara. Breathe in the pure, sweet sound of her laughter, the feel of her chubby arms squeezing around your neck. Breathe out—Jesus, what color could he breathe out to get rid of the memory of Liam?

Breathe out the swirl of every color, the chaotic blur of too much light, too much movement. Too much everything. Breathe it out, let it float away. Inhale calm, exhale chaos.

“It really was good to see you, Liam. Don’t worry about the car—that was my own fault, so I’ll pay for it. Drive safe on your way home.” He turned and headed back toward the raspberry patch.

Don’t turn around. Don’t look back. If Liam’s still there by the porch? If he’s looking after you? You can’t see that. Keep walking. It’s over. Don’t look back.

It’s over. It’s over.

“Ben!” A male voice from the direction of the porch was enough to make Ben’s heart skip a beat, but he knew even before he turned that it wasn’t Liam calling to him. It was Seth. “It’s too early to offer you a drink, man. But I’m not sure what the healthier option would be. You seem a bit stressed all of a sudden.”

Healthier. Well. Ben knew exactly what would be healthy. More of his damn deep breathing, more centering of himself, more calming and meditating and visualizing positive things.

He turned back to the raspberries. Life. So persistent, so determined to survive and thrive and spread. And not only life for the bushes themselves, but life for the birds and animals and humans who took vital sustenance from the delicious fruit. Beautiful. Spiritual, even.

Ben whacked the bushes with the head of the loppers, then dropped that tool and picked up the rake. More length, more satisfaction as the metal head connected with the plants, the teeth snagged and ripped and destroyed. Five blows, then ten, twenty, every muscle in Ben’s body straining toward cathartic ruination.

And it did make him feel a little better. By the time he dropped the rake he was still tense, still restlessly angry, but he didn’t actually feel as if his whole body was going to explode anymore.

He turned to see Seth and Tamara watching him. “See?” Seth said, loudly enough for Ben to hear it over his own ragged breaths. “People look silly when they have temper tantrums. Don’t they? Didn’t Uncle Ben look silly?”

Tamara frowned in concern. “Why mad?” she called.

Well. Probably a question Ben deserved, but not one he was able to answer. He shook his head. “Just—raspberries.”

Tamara nodded sagely. “Prickles,” she agreed.

“They taste good, though,” Seth said, and he buzzed his lips against his daughter’s cheek. “Okay. Come help me find a long-sleeved shirt. By the time we’re outside again, Uncle Ben will have that mess tidied up—and hidden—and we’ll get the rest of the job finished before Mommy gets home. Sound good?”

Tamara agreed with typical enthusiasm and scampered into the house. Seth stayed outside long enough to say, “Is that out of your system, now? If it isn’t, you should head out and I’ll come find you once Dinah gets back to take Tamara. I get it that you’re… agitated? Is that the right word? But Tamara doesn’t need to see her favorite buddy going apeshit on the shrubbery. Not twice in one day, at least.”

“Right.” Shit. Of course Seth was right. Ben needed to get a tighter grip on himself. “Sorry. Yes, I’m fine. Won’t happen again.”

“It can happen again if you need it to—we can go out in the woods and you can beat the shit out of whatever plants you want. Just not around Tam.”

“No, I’m okay.”

Okay. Yeah. That’s what he was. He was okay. He’d be calm and gentle when Tamara came back outside, and he’d tidy up the battered raspberry fragments like a good boy, and he’d go back to his quiet, tidy, okay life.

And he’d damn well forget about Liam Marshall. Because while Liam was a walking, talking promise of a better, more exciting life, his promises couldn’t be trusted. And Ben wouldn’t let himself get fooled again.