THE SILENCE in Silas’s house was thick enough to smother, and though it’d started making Ben feel a bit stir-crazy, he got it. He understood why Silas had curled into a ball in the center of his bed. He understood why Silas didn’t want to talk to anyone. When some people survived traumatic shit, they didn’t bounce back so easily. The most disappointing thing about the situation, though, was knowing he couldn’t do anything to take the experience away from Silas.
As Ben paced back and forth, passing Shirley every now and then, he rethought everything that had happened at the bookstore—wishing he’d been paying more attention, wishing he’d scoped the place out before letting Silas go inside. Hindsight really was twenty-twenty, he supposed. Nothing could change the past. But at least Scott Kramer had been taken into custody. For now.
“Should we check on him?” Shirley asked.
Ben shrugged. “I don’t know. I think him storming into his bedroom and slamming the door behind him meant he wanted to be left alone. He didn’t even raise his head when I went in there, like, what—” Ben checked his watch. “—four hours ago. He’s gotta be hungry. Should we check on him?”
“That’s what I just asked you.”
“But you know him better.”
“Do I?”
Well, she’d definitely known him a hell of a lot longer than Ben had. But Ben felt pretty damn confident he knew Silas on a much more intimate level. He knew Silas’s wants and fears. He knew the things men didn’t tell women who worked for them.
“If there’s anybody he’d want to see right now,” Shirley said, “it’s probably you.”
“Right.” Ben sighed, dragging his hand over his hair.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to help Silas through this mess. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to fix everything. Ben wasn’t a nurturer by nature. He wasn’t the guy people ran to when they needed a shoulder to cry on. He didn’t do well with comforting and emotions. Probably because no one ever taught him how. Real men don’t show their feelings. Real men protect with force.
“Here goes nothing,” he said, making his way down the hall to the last door on the left.
He stood outside Silas’s bedroom, arranging his thoughts so he didn’t make a complete ass of himself and make a bad situation worse. Tough love wouldn’t work on a guy like Silas, Ben felt pretty certain. Silas would feel attacked when he needed to feel safe. Just don’t make him feel worse.
Ben cracked open the door and poked his head in, disappointed to find Silas hadn’t moved an inch in four hours. He lay on his side, back to the door, legs tucked against his chest, held by his arms. His head was on the pillow, but he wasn’t sleeping. From this angle, Ben could tell his eyes were wide-open, staring at something on the wall. Or maybe he was staring at nothing at all.
“Hey,” Ben said.
Silas didn’t speak.
Jesus. “You can’t stay in here forever.”
Still nothing. Not even a grunt.
A sinking feeling came over Ben, one he could only describe as remorse. That was what it felt like anyway. The absolute despair that came from watching someone he cared about fall completely apart. The worst part, though, was knowing he couldn’t do anything to make Silas feel better. He could still hear Silas saying “I just want someone to hold me” in that shattered tone, the one that’d nailed Ben right in the heart months ago. Maybe Silas just needed someone to hold him again, make him feel safe again.
Ben eased into the bed and curled up behind Silas, body molding to Silas’s form. He wrapped his arms around Silas’s chest and simply held him. Neither man spoke, though what point was there in speaking? What words would make any of this better? Silence among friends wasn’t so bad anyway.
He felt Silas shudder, and Ben’s first instinct was to keep him warm. With his body. With a blanket. The means didn’t matter as long it ended with Silas being comfortable. Then he heard a sniffle. Ben lifted his head enough to see the edge of Silas’s face. A tear clung to his cheek.
Dammit, he’s crying.
“Silas,” Ben whispered, tightening his hold. Silas wrapped both hands around Ben’s arm like he was afraid Ben might let go. No chance in hell. “I know you’re scared. I know this whole ordeal is fucking with your head.”
“I wanted to take a nap,” Silas said, voice trembling. “I just wanted to sleep. I thought… I hoped all of this was a bad dream and when I woke up, it would be over.” He shook his head. “I’m so stupid.”
“You’re not stupid.”
“Oh, but I am. I’m stupid for getting involved with that psychopath.”
“Stop that, okay?” Ben wasn’t demanding, but gentle. He guided Silas to roll toward him so they could look each other in the eyes. “Shit happens. That doesn’t make you stupid.”
“I’m naive.”
“You’re human. We make mistakes.”
Silas didn’t say anything. He only stared, but something in his expression changed. Softened, Ben supposed. He went from self-condemnation to… something else. Like a light coming back to a face that’d been full of darkness. Then Silas let a soft smile come over his lips. He reached up and cupped Ben’s cheek, sniffling back the rest of his tears. “Why are you so kind to me?” he quietly asked.
“Because we all need someone to be nice to us.” Ben leaned his forehead to Silas’s. “And I don’t like seeing my friends hurting.”
FRIENDS. WHY did that word have the power to be so disappointing? Seriously. More importantly, why did Silas expect more? He knew Ben loved someone else. He knew Ben wasn’t the type to jump in and out of relationships. Did he honestly think having sex with the man would change these facts?
No, but he certainly hoped.
He laid his head on Ben’s bicep, surprised by how comfortable such a firm muscle could be. Neither one shifted or shuffled. Neither moved. Lying there in his arms was as natural as breathing. Dare he say it felt like that appendage had been made just for Silas’s head? Come to think of it, all of Silas fit against all of Ben. Ben was wider and taller and could’ve blanketed Silas’s entire body. His chest became a perfect basket for Silas to nestle into. His heat was neither too hot nor too cool. His voice was neither too loud nor too soft. Ben knew when to be there and when to give Silas his space. Ben knew how to exist in Silas’s world. And there they were, just friends. Friends hugging. On a bed.
Silas felt something tickling the side of his neck, and when he looked up, he found Ben stroking his hair. Ben watched the motion of his own fingers with fondness. It was an unmistakable fixation accompanied by a slight curl of the lips, and probably the most adorable thing Silas had ever seen.
“What are you thinking about?” Silas whispered, curious to know if Ben had stepped back to a time when he did the very same thing with the man he loved.
Ben kept silently staring, stroking the same line of flesh, and for a moment, Silas wasn’t sure he would answer the question. For a moment, Silas thought maybe he shouldn’t have asked. Then Ben said, “I like this.”
“You like this?”
“Mm-hmm. That’s what I was thinking.”
“What exactly do you like, Officer Logan?” Silas asked, because God knew, getting Ben to talk about his feelings was about as easy as pulling teeth.
“I like having someone I can be myself around.”
Not what Silas expected, but okay.
“I like spending time with you,” Ben continued.
Swoon. That was what Silas wanted to hear.
“I rather enjoy spending time with you too,” Silas said. “Not because I feel safer when you’re around, but because you’re the most genuine, caring person I’ve ever met.” A single dimple appeared at the edge of Ben’s crooked smile, bringing to life that boy-next-door charm Silas loved so much. He ran the tip of his finger over the indention. “Maybe I should be thanking Scott rather than hating him.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I doubt this would’ve ever happened otherwise.”
Ben flicked his gaze down to Silas’s lips, then returned it to his eyes. He inched forward, if that was even possible. No space remained between them. None at all. Their bodies touched from forehead to foot. Every breath Ben took, Silas felt. Every movement moved Silas too. Ben tilted his head and leaned in. Silas leaned with him. Their mouths connected.