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BEN
When Ben hears steps on the ladder, he doesn’t turn around. He secretly hopes it’s Kate, though he promised himself not to hold his breath. She’s busy with her party; it’s too much to hope she’d have time to find him up here. Besides, it’s not like he left a card.
“Hey.”
Her voice washes over him. He closes his eyes, savoring it.
He turns and finds her standing there, outlined by the starlight.
“Did you do that?” she asks. “The pictures? My room?”
“You told me you missed the trails.”
She tilts her head at him. He can tell by the way she stands that she’s drunk. Maybe not shitfaced like she’d been at the wake, but there’s a looseness to her limbs and posture that gives it away.
“When did I tell you that?”
He wishes he could see her expression, but it’s dark and she’s too far away.
“The night of the wake. You said you missed the trails.” He sucks in a breath, trying to work up the words he really wants to say. He blurts them out before he has time to second-guess himself. “If there was a way to give you a real trail, I would. Honestly, I thought about it. But I figured I might get myself killed trying to secure a section of the woods for you.” Now he sounds like an idiot. “I’m still useful around this place for a few things so I decided not to risk it.”
She takes half a dozen steps in his direction, coming close enough that he can now see her face.
“It’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me. Thank you, Ben.”
“You deserve it.”
The five paces separating them evaporates. Before he can fully comprehend the disappearance, she stands on her tiptoes and kisses him.
He’s barely let himself dream of this moment. Kate is so far out of his league it’s not even funny. Not to mention that he can be an asshole.
But here she is, standing under the starlight, kissing him. And even though he knows he’s not good enough for her, he seizes the moment.
He pulls her close and kisses her back. She feels as good in his arms as he’d imagined. His blood heats as she leans into him, running her hands up his back.
The words come out all by themselves. “You taste like a bar.”
The perfect moment fizzles. Kate steps out of the circle of his arms.
“Really?” She wrinkles her nose at him. “You lead with all that stuff about wanting to build me a trail, then close with You taste like a bar?”
Give him a gun to point at some bad guys, and Ben knows just what to do. Give him a grenade to lob, and he’s a pretty good shot. Hell, throw some undead at him and he’s more than up to the task of dispatching them.
Giving him a woman he wants is like to scrambling his brain with a fork. Giving him a woman he’s crazy about is like scrambling his brain with two forks.
“You did have a few drinks, didn’t you?” he asks.
“A few, yeah. So did everyone else. You taste like Reed’s cake, by the way.”
Five steps once again separates them. Ben searches frantically for a way to regain his footing, to overcome the gap that always seems to hang between them.
His brain completely fails him.
Kate’s shoulders sag. She presses her face into her hands.
“I shouldn’t have come up here. I might be drunk, but I’m not that drunk. Whatever this weirdness is between us, it’s a mistake.”
“I like the weirdness.” Fuck. Could anything more asinine have come out of his mouth? “I like you, Kate.”
“I like you, too, Ben. I don’t know why, but I do.” She shakes her head. “But we’re not stupid teenagers. We’re both adults. We’re both smart enough to know this won’t go anywhere. We’re too different to ever be a real couple.”
Then she’s gone.
The rooftop is empty, deserted. He wishes he could rewind it all and try again.
Ben stares at the space where she stood. The emptiness sucks him in.
Before he realizes what’s happening, he’s standing in the courtyard of College Creek surrounded by the helpless kids gunned down by Johnson and his lackeys. The scene swirls, spitting him out in the baking heat of Pakistan, where he kneels beside the cot of a dying comrade.
And, finally, he finds himself at the bedside of his newborn son, Sam. Signing over full custody to the woman he’d had a fling with for a few weeks while on leave. The remembered pain of that day staggers him.
More than anything, he’d wanted to be a part of his little boy’s life. And he had been, in a way, for a few weeks every year whenever he was on leave. But Sam’s stepfather had been much more of a father than Ben had ever been. It had all been for the best. Ben wasn’t cut out to be a husband any more than he was cut out to be a father.
He reels, heart pounding as he yanks himself free of the flashbacks. Leaning over his knees, he takes in big gulps of air.
Tonight was all for the best, he tells himself. He’d have messed things up with Kate sooner or later. Better sooner and just get it over with.
He doesn’t regret the gift for her. Not for a second. He wanted to do it for her. And it feels good to know his feelings for her aren’t one-sided. That’s tonight’s consolation prize, his takeaway from the disaster.
He tries to be okay with it. He tries really, really hard.