Chapter Twenty-Eight
Transference
I stand on the sidewalk and watch as the old vinyl sign comes down. It’s a bittersweet end and an exciting beginning. Preston wraps me in a hug and rests his chin on top of my head. Tears leak from the corners of my eyes, and I don’t want to wipe them away. I let them carve trails down my face. This is my war paint, my strength.
The crew hoists the new sign into place, and Preston squeezes me so tight.
“Bennie’s,” I say, reading the bold letters aloud. “Conformity looks good on you, Ben.”
“It’s perfect,” Preston agrees. “Are you ready to open the doors tomorrow?”
I sigh and turn in his arms, looking into the face that has been my saving grace for the past four months. Preston has been the glue holding me together and forcing me to keep going. After losing Bennie, it felt like I was alone, drowning in this heartbreaking sadness.
After being notified that no charges would be filed in Dylan’s death, my first instinct was to run, to hit the road and put this town and all its memories to my back. I thought it would be easier to cut ties with this life. But I realized that I could never leave Preston. Just like I am his medicine, he has become mine.
“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. I still can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“We,” he corrects. “We’re doing this.”
I turn in his arms and kiss him eight times, because it’s Thursday.
“Yes. We. Me and you.”
“Hmm. I like how that sounds,” he answers, returning my kisses, and making the last one count.
“Stop trying to distract me,” I whisper against his lips, though my protest is half-hearted. “You know we’ve got work to do.”
“Work shmerk.”
“Who are you and what have you done with Preston Charles?” I ask.
He gives me the lopsided smirk that I love. “I’ve hidden him away, along with the world-traveling Wren Hart. Come on, boss.”
I frown at him. “We’re partners. No bosses.”
Preston grabs my hand and pulls me across the street, inside our new store. There is still a large section of vinyl. It’s been combed over and whittled down to the best of the best. Half the store is filled with Preston’s refinished furniture. The rest of the space holds art from some locals and tons of vintage finds. Preston and I have become experts at locating these treasures at internet stores. I’m a beast at online bidding.
I run my hand over the new front counter that Preston built and step behind it as he starts some music. I smile at the sound of Spoon, “Nobody Gets Me But You.” From this spot, I can see the entire store, including my pretty man perfecting the placement of each piece of furniture. I smile as I watch him move something a few inches, only to move it back seconds later. His muscles move and flex beneath his T-shirt, and the sight still gives me warm fuzzy feelings inside.
We work all afternoon in the store, making sure everything is perfect for the grand opening. When Preston is satisfied, we head upstairs to Bennie’s old apartment. It looks completely different now—more me than Bennie—with Preston’s organization and cleanliness. Though we did leave little pieces of Bennie here and there. On the rough days, it’s these little pieces that bring a smile to my face.
I toe off my shoes and leave them by the door so Preston can complain about them later. Slumping down in a kitchen chair, I watch while he locks the deadbolt six times. He washes his hands in the sink, soaping up to his elbows, and again, I’m entranced. I stand and sneak over to him.
“I’m feeling particularly dirty,” I whisper, sliding between Preston and the sink.
He presses his body against my back, trapping me, before reaching around and turning the water back on. His hands wrap around my forearms and guide them under the water. Then he adds soap and begins to massage it into my skin. Preston’s large hands slide around in the soap over my arms, his thumb tracing Bennie’s signature tattoo on my wrist. He laces our fingers together and brings us both back under the water, rinsing everything clean.
“You’re all wet,” he says before placing eight kisses on my neck and handing me the towel.
I laugh at him and open the fridge to try to find us some food. I grin, surprised at how happy I am in this life that I could have never imagined.
After a quick dinner, Preston showers and heads into the living room. When I step out of the shower, I wipe the mirror clear and take a good look at myself. My hair is growing out, and I’m loving the way the lavender color clings to the tips. My cheeks are fuller, my curves filled out. I’ve even got some muscle definition from working out with Preston. I have survived violence and heartbreak and grief. I am stronger because of this. I am unrecognizable compared to the girl I was a year ago. That girl was a victim, a possession, lost and in search of something that was right here at home.
I hear Bon Jovi’s “Bad Medicine” start up and smile at my reflection. Preston likes to play this when he thinks I need reminding of who I am. It is his “I love you” and so much more.
A couple hours later we lay in bed together panting, sweaty, and satisfied.
“I love that I don’t have the urge to wash you off my skin,” he whispers.
“I love that, too.”
Preston slides his hand across my belly and pulls me back against his chest. His nose skims down my neck before he places ten kisses on my shoulder.
“I thought it was eight on Thursdays,” I murmur, trying to resist the pull of contented exhaustion.
“It’s after midnight.” His hot breath fans over my skin, and a chill races down my spine. “Ten on Fridays.”
I hum in approval and press my lips to Preston’s bicep curled beneath my head. Tomorrow, I will open a store and begin a new life with the man that I love. This is our adventure, one that keeps me right here in Crowley. And I’ve never been happier.
“I’m so in love with you,” he says into my hair.
“I love you, too.”
“And I’m so grateful you found your way home.”
I curl into him further and close my eyes.
“I’m glad you were here waiting for me.”