Shay…
They’ve accepted you. Without question of who you are. Without proof of where you come from. Just like Ben had promised. Piece o’ cake.
So why had my hands begun to tremble?
Why had my breaths shallowed, my skin heated?
Ben. That’s why.
He sat beside Hannah on the couch—watching me intently. Where should I sit? By You? No. Too close. But I scanned the other options: empty Adirondack chairs on the far corners of the deck, barstools at the barbecue, deep-cushioned chairs on either side of the coffee table.
“What’ve we got goin’ on over here?” Mase grabbed a fork from the barbecue counter, then climbed onto the couch from behind, working his body between Ben and Hannah, shoving Ben over to the other end.
Ben shoulder-shoved him back. “Hey, I was here first.”
“I met her first.”
“I met her first,” Cade growled from the kitchen. “And you two cretins will behave around my wife and unborn son. Be gentle or get kicked out.”
“Yes, Mom,” Mase grumbled. “Okay. Seriously.” He surveyed Hannah’s half-eaten food. “What is that?”
Ben’s gaze returned to me.
I glanced at the nearest giant cushioned chair. Then at the one beside Hannah.
“No.” Ben grabbed hold of my hand. “I’m not letting you sit off by yourself.”
All of a sudden, he gave a hard tug.
I gasped and fell toward him, arms flailing. My heart jumped into my throat as I landed in a sideways-sprawling heap on his lap. But he’d leaned away from Mase and Hannah, softening my impact so they weren’t affected.
Me? Definitely affected.
My cheeks flamed hot with the intimate hold. “Hey,” I muttered. My muscles tensed as I arched away from his chest, fully intending to spring back up.
But gentle arms locked around me. “Stay,” he whispered over my ear, his warm breath fogging over the sensitive skin of my neck.
“That’s just…wrong.” Kiki frowned, stopping in front of us with her hands on her hips. She gave a slight headshake, her expression growing dubious. But she wasn’t talking about us; she stared at Hannah’s plate.
“Looks damn good to me.” Mase licked his lips, then swallowed hard. “Smells good too.”
“You guys get your own. This is mine.” Hannah curved her shoulders around her plate.
Secured in Ben’s hold, I leaned over to take a peek. It had thick yellow half-dried sauce smeared all over it, a handful of unidentified short translucent-white segments, and five dark-brown squares that resembled... No. Couldn’t be. “What is it? That yellow stuff? The white?”
“Remnants of my over-easy eggs and onions.” She picked up a brown square, dredged it through the egg, scooped up an onion, then popped the small morsel into her mouth.
“And...chocolate?” I blinked, astounded.
“Yep.” Hannah groaned. “So damn good.”
“Let me try,” Mase begged.
“One.” She pinched another chocolate piece, then used it to push a larger square toward him. “I should’ve known you’d be into weird food, Mr. Orange Juice and Grape Nuts.”
The fun commotion between everyone else distracted me for a few seconds from my own disconcerting location—wrapped in Ben’s arms. But the point of that began to sink in. Maybe intimate contact with someone didn’t have to be frightening. Or dangerous.
No. Not someone. Ben. This is safe with Ben.
As startling as sitting on his lap was, I forced myself to stay there. Both as a test for me and as a challenge to his rigid code.
We’d both strayed beyond the safety of our comfort zones. And I still had no idea why he’d begun to break more of the rules that protected what he’d worked so hard for.
What about my issues? I took a steadying breath, thinking about it. So far, so good. No signs of panic: no further hand shaking, no breaking out in a cold sweat, no sudden urge to bolt.
“Damn, that’s fuckin’ awesome,” Mase mumbled around his gifted chocolate-onion-egg piece, then glanced at the flaming barbecue. “Thought we’re eating ribs and coleslaw.”
“Coconut coleslaw, I hear?” Kendall leaned a hip on the opposite couch arm.
“Leilani’s favorite.” Mase nodded. “One of many secret food hand-me-downs from her mom. Leilani emailed Hannah the recipe when she knew she couldn’t fly over this weekend.”
“Sounds amazing.” Kiki plopped into the nearest cushioned chair. “Where is the girlfriend?”
“Patagonia. A once-in-a-lifetime study opportunity; it’s a Discovery Channel gig.”
“Oh, wow.” The untamed southern tip of South America. “That sounds amazing.” For a girl who’d run wild in the Appalachian forest outside Philadelphia before hardening herself to survive on the streets of the city itself, the idea of adventuring through millions of acres of pristine wilderness blew my mind.
“Yep, we’re having coconut coleslaw,” Hannah continued. “And baby back ribs too. This is pre-lunch lunch. Baby-To-Be insisted. Cade’s son waits for no one.”
Kiki’s face lit up with hilarity as she glanced over her shoulder at Cade, who’d gone back inside. “‘Baby-To-Be’?”
Cade leaned out the kitchen window, raised his brows slightly, and shrugged. “Little Bean is too yuppie. Hannah nixed Bun-in-the-Oven.”
“Damn straight, I nixed that nonsense. I bake for a living. Buns in my oven have cinnamon, pecans, and sizzle with sugary butter. They’re not made of Michaelson magic.”
“And Fetus—” Cade had a wicked expression that flashed surprise before he ducked under the windowsill right as Hannah beamed a couch pillow at him. Deep chuckling sounded out before he walked the pillow back outside to his wife, then tucked it lovingly behind her back.
“Just...” Hannah scrunched her face at her husband, then shook her head. “No.”
“Darren’s not here today either?” Ben’s tone flattened, as if he was a little disappointed. He glanced at me. “Kiki’s boyfriend.”
“Nope.” Kiki gave a single headshake. “It’s his monthly brother-sister day with Logan. And she’d been hounding him to help sow winter vegetable seeds in their garden.”
“It’s an original-gang day.” Kristen sipped iced tea and sat on the big chair near the opposite end.
I tensed, straightening away from Ben as I sat up. “Plus one intruder.”
Ben tugged me firmly back against his chest. “Not an intruder. Never that.”
“What Ben said.” Kiki glared at me, eyes narrowing. “Welcome guest. Got it?”
Everyone stared at me with unrelenting expectation: that I accept the kindness they offered. Relief flowed through my veins on a slow exhale, and I smiled a little. “Got it.”
“Besides, there’s preggers me. I’m not an original.”
Cade wrapped his arms loosely around her neck and kissed her ear. “You got that right. You’re an upgrade. A Michaelson 2.0. But you are definitely one-of-a-kind.”
“You better like my originality. You’re stuck with me.”
“Nah. We’re really holding you hostage. Only reason you’re here is because you’re on a nine-month courier mission to deliver our mascot.”
She dislodged the pillow again and nailed him in the side of the head with it. “I’m the woman you love.”
He lowered the pillow, then kissed her tenderly. “Lucky me.”
My heart warmed at all the unchecked affection shared among the group.
Even though my head spun at how lucky I’d been too, to have stumbled into what I’d always dreamed about.
All through our late-afternoon barbecue, a carefree happiness filled the air. Relaxed conversations drifted along with ever-changing small groups.
And even though it felt amazing to be included for this snapshot in time, I found myself mentally drifting to the edge to take it all in. I’d grown comfortable being the outsider, the observer: safe.
My best thinking had been done from the sidelines as I’d figured out who I wanted to be—how I’d even fit in—in a mixed-up world that no longer had an automatic place for me.
Only I’d taken care of myself for so long, I’d failed to see how I could fit in to the bigger picture. The edges of my puzzle piece had been cut by my own hand and nothing seemed to match. I’d done that on purpose. I’d rejected the broken outside world and created my own, one I had a say in. And I’d gone it alone, every step of the way, year after year. That was the problem. No matter how badly I’d longed to have something resembling a family, the entire concept felt foreign.
Then again, how could I learn to get comfortable with it if I didn’t put myself out there?
How do I even begin to trust again?
“Well? What do you think?” Toward the end of the day, Ben snuck up behind me as I stood alone inside, in front of the refrigerator.
My thoughts scattered. My gaze drifted from the group still gathered outside, then landed on a circular object sitting on Hannah’s kitchen island.
“I think there’s some serious wrong goin’ on with that Jell-O mold.”
“Hey!” Mase stepped inside the kitchen and pointed the mouth of his beer bottle at me. “I’ll have you know I trained long and hard to make that masterpiece.”
“Masterpiece?” Kiki sidled up on my far side, then tilted her head. “It’s lopsided.”
“And orange.” The color oddity? Proof enough right there.
“It’s tangerine.” Mase took a swig of beer.
Kendall rounded the other side of the kitchen island. She poked the porcelain platter, making the roundish thing on it quiver. “Since when does Jell-O make a tangerine flavor?”
Cade leaned his forearms on the counter, concern etched into his forehead. “Uhhh... The bigger question here? When does a man admit to anything tangerine?”
“For your information, Jell-O doesn’t make tangerine flavor, I did. From scratch. With fresh-squeezed tangerines. And since Hannah was the one who’d challenged me to do it, you better not be dissing on my dessert contribution.”
“Damn straight.” Hannah waddled into the fray and opened the fridge. “Made specifically with honey tangerines.” She pulled out a squat orange fruit, then lobbed it at Cade who caught it midair. She slid out a glass bowl filled with whipped cream and placed it on the kitchen island. “It’s a hybrid. Sweeter.”
While Mase picked up a yellow silicone cake cutter, Kiki leaned closer. “What are the...floaty things?”
“The flat shavings are coconut.”
I cocked my head. “And those pale blobs?”
“Duh.” Mase stared at me like I’d never seen dessert before. “Mini marshmallows.”
“Oh.”
At my quiet admission of cluelessness, Mase winked at me.
In a sudden whirlwind of assembly-line activity, jiggling wedges were plated, whipped cream dolloped, and spoons clinked before each dish was personally delivered by Mase with pride.
Second to last, my dessert appeared on the counter in front of me, then Ben’s plate was placed beside mine. Without any further teasing, everyone else filed into the front sitting room.
“You know, I wasn’t asking your opinion about sketchy gelatin. I meant...what you think about the Michaelsons, our gang? About letting people in, letting go—trusting someone besides yourself.”
No idea. I gave a noncommittal shrug. “Seems okay for them.”
“But not for you.”
There it was. Called on my own weakness. “I don’t know,” I whispered. I wanted it to be okay. Damn, how many days and nights I’d wished for it.
“Go out with me.”
“You’re relentless. And you’re breaking your own rules.” I’d said it before, but it seemed important enough to repeat. Those strict rules had gotten me fired. Those rules had been clearly and wisely outlined in our verbal working agreement: strictly business.
“I can’t help it. You do this to me. It’s driving me crazy. You are.” He stepped closer in from behind, our bodies almost touching, but not quite. His voice lowered. “I’m willing to take the risk. If you are.”
My breaths shallowed. My fingers began to tremble again. I clenched them into fists.
He stepped around my shoulder, never once touching, but so close I could feel the heat from his skin. He stared down hard at me. “Don’t think. Don’t second guess it. Tomorrow night.”
No. Not tomorrow night.
“Do it!” An unidentified female shout came from the front room.
I glanced over the half-wall between us to find the entire group staring at us. Kiki’s loosely cupped hands formed a megaphone around her lips. “He’s a good guy.”
“And if he’s not, if he so much as thinks of right-hooking you again” —Cade’s serious gaze at me turned into a dagger-filled warning as he cut it toward Ben— “I will kick his ass.”
“Me too. I second that.” Mase gave a hard nod.
Everyone else thirded and fourthed and fifthed their oath to inflict dire harm on Ben if he stepped out of line.
“Shay.” Ben’s voice softened.
The muted sound barely filtered through the density in my head, like I’d sunk fifty feet into thick arctic depths. Hope and fear coalesced together, a raging tempest that I had no idea how to navigate, let alone survive.
“Shay.” Ben’s call grew louder, firmer. Then I realized he’d touched my arm and turned me to face him, slid his hands down into mine, and tangled our fingers together. He squeezed with solid pressure, becoming my anchor.
Finally, my gaze began to sharpen, gaining focus as it fixed on him. My breaths had quickened to such a degree, I felt lightheaded. Had my hands not been firmly secured by his, they’d have been shaking. As it was, I had to tense every muscle in my legs to keep my knees from wobbling.
“Don’t listen to them. Hear me. I won’t hurt you. I will never take anything from you again. I’m just hoping you like me enough to want to give me something, on your own...your choice.”
“What do you want from me?” My voice fell to a rasped whisper.
His eyes softened, an unmistakable humble plea in their depths. “A chance.”
In front of all of his friends as witnesses, pledging their wrath if he did me wrong, the freezing ice around my heart started to melt. I floated up, away from the depths of despair and confusion, toward the warmth and brightness of hope.
“I hear you,” I murmured. And shock of all shocks, I believed him. Trust had never come easy for me, not since the betrayal that had shattered my world, not since I’d rebuilt my heart into an impenetrable fortress. But standing in Hannah and Cade’s house, surrounded by family and friends with nothing but love for one another, I dared to take the risk—found the courage to trust again.
His gaze didn’t waver when I paused. He stood there resolute, willing to wait, ready to give me whatever I needed.
“I need to think about the day, but” —I gave a single nod— “okay.”
“Okay,” he whispered with a nod of his own. A gentle smile began to curve his lips.
Whoops and hollers sounded over our shoulders.
I felt exhausted and elated, like together we’d just crossed the finish line after running a grueling marathon.
He’d promised not to take from me. He’d vowed not to hurt me.
But I knew my nature, understood where I felt comfortable and where I didn’t. History had shaped me into who I’d become. And history had a bad reputation for repeating herself.
As I stared up into Ben’s hope-filled eyes, my greatest concern echoed in my head.
What happens if I hurt you?