CHAPTER 12:
JUNIPER
Knock. Knock.
A sudden, sharp rap on the front door startled me. I'd been reading one of the random books from the bookshelf in the living room. My book had just started to get good, when another—
Knock. Knock.
“I'm coming,” I called out, assuming it was Ben.
I set my book aside and hurried downstairs to let him in. Pulling open the door, I found...not Ben. Instead of Ben at the door, it was Ben's sister Georgina's boyfriend. I knew who he was because he'd been with her at the bar last night. He had long blond hair, pulled back in a ponytail, and super serious dark eyes.
I realized I didn't know his name.
“Hey, I'm Noah,” he said, as if he'd read my mind. “I don't think we've officially met.”
“I'm Lilly,” I started to say, when he shook his head ‘no,’ cutting me off.
“You aren't Lilly,” he said, firmly.
I'm not? Shit.
He handed me a trash bag, and brushed passed me, rushing into the house. He held a second trash bag in his own hand.
“Um?” I turned and hurried after him. He headed for the kitchen. “I'm...” I didn't even know what to say. If he knew I wasn't Lilly, then did that mean Ben knew too? Heat burned my cheeks. Pressure squeezed my chest. Anxiety rushed through my body.
“What are you doing?” I demanded.
“We are cleaning. And fast,” he told me. He swung open the fridge and started tossing stuff into his trash bag. I stood there, stunned, watching him dispose of all my food.
After a moment, he paused and turned around. “Get moving because Ben is on his way over here with the real fucking Lilly Davenport.”
A mini-scream left my lips. So Ben knew. “He knows?” I asked stupidly.
I swallowed hard, barely able to breathe.
“He knows.”
Oh, God. I left Noah and rushed for my room. I grabbed everything I could find that was my own and dumped it into my trash bag. Then I made the bed at record speed. I did the same in the bathroom. Then I rushed for the room I'd slept in last night with Ben. I made that bed too. When I finished, I hurried back in the kitchen.
The counter, the dishes, the sink—all of it looked sparkling clean, as if I'd never been here at all.
“Is that everything?” Noah asked.
I nodded.
It was over. My lie was over. My thing with Ben… probably also over. And it crushed me.
I followed Noah out of the house, across the path that lead to the Turner's house, and inside with him. He said nothing. I said nothing. I only followed him up the stairs that led to the Turner's open kitchen and living room area. He set his filled trash bag down on the counter, while I still clutched mine tightly in my hands.
Several minutes passed where neither of us moved and the silence continued.
It was weird being in Ben's house. After all this time, it was my first time stepping inside. The layout of this house was the mirror image of the house next door. Yet, they were complete opposites. The decor in the Davenport house was modern and beachy. The decor in Ben's house was cozy, eclectic, and inviting.
No one else was home.
Tears burned behind my eyes, but somehow I managed to keep them at bay.
“So, who are you?” Noah suddenly asked.
Before I could answer Noah, I heard the downstairs door open and someone come inside. It couldn’t be Ben already…could it? I held my breath and listened to the sound of footsteps quickly moving up the stairs.
Sure enough. It was Ben.
He came into view, moving into the room. His dark hair slightly disheveled, while his face remained stoic. He stopped several feet away from me, shoving his hands in his pockets.
I couldn’t read him.
If he was angry, he hid it. If he was hurt, he didn’t let it show. I didn’t know the right words to say, but I knew I had to say something. “I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you.”
“But you didn’t,” he retorted, his voice low and surprisingly calm. Too calm. “You lied this whole time. You let me think you were my friend. You took advantage of my trust. And for what? A free place to stay? A few free meals? How’d you even get into the Davenport’s house in the first place?”
“I picked the lock,” I admitted.
His eyes narrowed. “Of course you did. You’re just a regular criminal. Breaking and entering is nothing for you. Are you even pregnant? Or is that just another lie?”
“Says the man who faked his own death and spent nine months in jail,” Noah said, chiming in to my defense. “And she’s clearly pregnant. She’s showing.”
“Stay out of this, Noah,” Ben warned, his eyes still on me.
“Just stating the obvious.”
My hand instinctively rested on my stomach. I was getting bigger, but I hadn’t realized other people could tell yet.
Despite his calmness, Ben was angry with me. That much was evident. But I desperately needed him to know that my intention was never to hurt him. I truly was his friend. I truly cared for him. He meant everything to me.
“The only lie I told you was that my name was Lilly,” I said, hoping he could see past that. “Everything else we shared was real. You've been kind to me and you’ve helped me more than you know. If you want me to leave right now, I will. But you need to know that I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”
He sighed. His eyes were so intense it was killing me. “How do I know you're not saying the right things just to manipulate me more?”
Ouch. “You don't. You'll just have to trust me.”
“Trust? How can you even ask me to trust you? I can’t now. So…maybe you should just leave.”
Like a wrecking ball to the chest, the air left my lungs. He was done with me? Just like that? And where the hell was I supposed to go? I guess our kiss this morning hadn't meant as much to him as it had to me. The realization of that hurt more than I could have ever expected.
“Do you even want to know my real name?” I asked, in one final attempt to break through to him.
His jaw tightened. “No.”
I huffed out in frustration. “You know what? I'm not sorry I lied about being Lilly. I did what I had to do. For me and for my baby. And if I had to, I’d do the exact same thing all over again.” I grabbed my other trash bag of stuff off the counter, the one Noah had collected, and now that I had all of my belongings, I left. In a blur of emotion and anger, I raced down the stairs and out the front door of the Turner’s house.
Outside it was bright and blinding. Almost warm enough for shorts. The sun beat down on me as I took off speed walking in the direction of the bus station. I had my five hundred dollars from last night; I could easily get on a bus and start over somewhere else. But some part of me didn’t want to go. Not because of Ben, but because I liked it here.
Well, maybe a little bit because of Ben. But I told myself that wasn't the reason.
This town felt like home in a way nowhere else had before. And Ben wasn’t the only person I knew. Rhett and I had become friends. Last night the guys in his band had asked me to become an official member of their group. And I’d accepted.
So, I changed directions. Instead of the bus station, I headed toward Chancy’s Claw. Because Rhett already knew my secret and he told me when the shit hit the fan, I should come to him.
As I walked, I grabbed my half of a carton of orange juice from my bag and started to chug. I figured all my cold stuff was about to start to spoil anyway, so I might as well start consuming. By the time I reached the gravel parking lot of Chancy's Claw, I was full on leftovers and liquid. My morning sickness had improved lately so at least I didn't have to worry about that for the moment.
Just then, the sound of feet running on gravel had me stopping in my tracks. I turned around and found Ben jogging my way. Always the athlete, I suppose, the guy ran so effortlessly. Whatever. I was so annoyed with him that the very sight of him bugged the hell out of me. Although my heart, the little traitor that it was, jumped at the sight of him.
“What are you doing?” I demanded. I dropped my bags at my feet. They were suddenly too heavy to hold.
He came to a halt in front of me. His hands landing on his hips. His breaths were only slightly heavier than normal. “Well, I ran to the bus stop first. But no one had seen you there. Then I ran here.”
“Congratulations, Sherlock,” I said sarcastically. “You found me.”
“Don't take this as me forgiving you,” he retorted, his eyes narrowing down at me, his chest moving up and down with each breath he took. “I'm just making sure you know what you're doing.” A single bead of sweat dripped down his face, almost deliciously so.
Dammit, Juniper, focus.
“I'm perfectly fine, thank you very much. I never needed your help before and I don't need it now.” I kicked my trash bags against the side of the Chancy's Claw building, figuring no one would touch them, and moved to open the restaurant doors. I yanked hard and nearly smacked Ben in the face with the door. Serves him right.
He groaned and followed me inside.
“I see your first instinct was to run to Rhett,” he growled, his voice lowered so only I could hear. “Since you're becoming such good friends and all.”
What? I turned around to glare up at Ben for a moment. That sounded a whole lot like jealousy. “Rhett and I are just friends.”
“Just like you and I are just friends?” he questioned.
Our conversation halted.
Because—speak of the devil—Rhett approached. “Um, what's happening?” he asked, his eyes bouncing back and forth between Ben and me. “You two look like you’re about to rip each other’s throats out. I take it that means you found out Hugs isn’t Lilly.”
Paleness washed over Ben’s face. “Wait. What? Hugs isn’t a nickname?”
I swallowed. “It’s my last name.”
“So, this whole time Rhett knew when I didn’t?”
Shit. Double shit. Somehow confiding to Rhett about the Lilly Davenport thing, instead of first telling Ben, suddenly seemed like the worst possible thing I could do. I swear to God, Ben looked at me as if I said I’d just fucked the man in his Impala out back.
“She needs a place to stay,” Ben said through gritted teeth. He avoided my eyes and only spoke to Rhett now. “Can you figure something out for her?”
“Look,” Rhett started, slinging his bar towel over his shoulder. “It’s not like—”
“Dammit. Yes or no, Rhett. Can you find her somewhere to stay or not?”
“Yes,” Rhett answered.
“Good.”
And without another glance in my direction or even a goodbye, Ben turned and pushed his way through the double doors of the restaurant. Just like that he was gone. And I knew, without a doubt now, the tiny thing we’d started—whatever it was—was officially over.