Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
He stopped at the entrance to the stable. The wind whipped with a renewed vigor here, stinging at my ears and nose. I stuffed my hands in my pockets and looked down into Benji’s eyes, wondering what thoughts swirled behind them. He’d always been a difficult one to read. As a politician’s son, I’d met a shit-ton of different people and learned how to get a good read on most everyone within a few minutes of speaking to them. Were they there with ulterior political motives? Were they trying to dig for information, or were they genuinely interested in conversation?
I couldn’t get anything on Benji besides he’s pissed. And he was pissed at me.
“Benji, listen, it’s been years since Costa Rica—”
“And?”
“And, I wanted to say—”
“Sorry?”
Damn, he’d gotten way feistier over the years.
“Actually, I wanted to say that I’ve changed.”
He rolled his eyes walked away. Fuck. I sped up and matched his pace as he strolled down the brick path that led toward the main house. Ashley’s mouthwatering lasagna must have been on the menu tonight judging by the intoxicating scent growing stronger.
“I’ve changed, Benji,” I said, continuing my train of thought. “I’m not the same kid anymore, and neither are you.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
“Huh?”
“You still can’t apologize for shit.” Benji stopped in his tracks, turning to me. His expression twisted in disappointment, and I immediately regretted everything I had said.
Still, I was a stubborn motherfucker, and “sorry” had always been a very limited word in my vocabulary. Especially since what had happened between us wasn’t exactly a cut-and-dry situation. I held a thorn in my side from how shit went down, and part of me wanted to hear Benji be the one to say sorry.
Maybe that was my dad’s fault, too. Learning that an apology always equaled an admission, even when there had been nothing to admit.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “that you still feel hurt from what went down in Costa Rica. I feel the same way.”
“Jesus Christ.” Another roll of his eyes. He walked away again.
Fuck. I wasn’t exactly expecting a beautiful and heartfelt reunion between the two of us, but I certainly wasn’t expecting this type of animosity and resentment. A split second had me thinking I should walk the opposite direction, toward the guesthouse and away from the steaming Benjamin Gold. It would likely be the easier option, the one with less friction. I could take a shower and rest up before I put my head down and focused everything on what my next move would be. On how I could stop that damn fucking tape from leaking, and how I could get a sliver of my old life back.
…
I followed behind Benji instead.
“Wait up.”
He walked faster.
“Benji, hold on.”
He stopped, but not because of me. Tammy the adopted river otter came over running, almost barreling over herself as she came to a dust-filled stop by Benji’s feet. He crouched down and gave her some back scratches before she hopped over to me, giving a squeal of excitement. My reaction to her familiar sounds came at me like an unexpected car wreck. I almost started to cry. Actually fucking cry. This otter and the twunk behind her were about to make me weep like a little baby.
I chewed the inside of my cheek as I bent down, using the opportunity to reunite with Tammy as a way to cover the wetness building in my eyes.
“She remembers you,” Benji said, sounding a little less tense than the moments before.
“She does.” I managed to keep my voice steady. Had to try for more than just two words, though. “She’s just like how I remember her, too.”
There, and my voice only cracked once. Barely even notic—
“Are you about to cry?”
“What? No. I’m fine. It’s fine.” I kept my face down, as if I were looking at Tammy and not hiding the tear that slipped down my cheek.
How’d things end up like this?
“It’s fine if you do. Animals have the same effect on me, too.” Benji crouched down to my level, although I didn’t meet his eyes. He started to pet Tammy, who had rolled onto her back, showing us her lighter-colored belly for some scratches. Her fur, resistant to water and cold temperatures, was as dense as a thick winter coat and as soft as silk, an odd and comforting combination.
As comforting as Benji’s cologne, drifting my way. And the feel of his fingertips brushing against mine.
Another tear streaked down my cheek. My throat started to tighten, my chest following suit.
Fuck. Fuck!
It all started hitting me at once: the tape. My father. Benji and our trip to Costa Rica. Everything that happened there. The fight. The laughter. The yearning.
The sleepless night; the velvet midnight.
It was my turn to stand and abruptly leave. I couldn’t take this. I had to be alone. Needed space to process it all. I walked down the path leading toward the guesthouse, keeping my head down, shaking it slightly, trying to get breaths into my lungs again. Behind me, Benji called out to me.