I’ve been your substitute for way longer than you’ve been dead.” But Caleb appeared out of nowhere and stopped me. He tried to calm him down. I still can’t believe Caleb even talks to that fucker. I was literally blown away to learn that he had worked for him! I only found this out because he actually fired Caleb once he heard that Josh Hart, Dahl’s attacker had been caught.
I couldn’t free myself from Caleb to go after him, so I yelled my last plea. But I couldn’t tell whether Dahlia heard anything I shouted to her. So much for a happy reunion. What the fuck?
I had to watch as he acted like the hero for her. But she was my girl,
Chapter 5
Torn
I’m tangled in River’s arms and legs as I wake up and try to slide out from under him. He instinctively reaches for me without waking, as he usually does regardless of which side I sleep on. I remain still until he settles back into sleep. One look at him and everything comes rushing back. What happened yesterday wasn’t a dream or a hallucination. Ben. He’s alive. He really was at Grace’s . . .
Yesterday I didn’t want to believe it. Today I know I have to. But what was he talking about?—he did what for me? With so many questions, I can’t even think straight. I really can’t even understand how any of this is possible.
It’s just after four in the morning as I quietly make my way to the bathroom, then out to the living room. I slip on the same clothes I wore yesterday, grab a sweater, turn off the alarm, and leave him a note.
I leave the house feeling lost and unsure. But I know this is something I have to do. The drive to Laguna Beach is long and quiet. I have the radio turned on, and even though I’m not really listening to what’s playing, every song brings a memory. When I exit the freeway and pass through town, the traffic is almost nonexistent. I drive down the narrow streets lined with delivery trucks, boutiques, bars and restaurants, and my mind wanders to the life I had here.
This entire town is filled with memories of Ben. The beach where we spent endless summer days, the corner coffee shop where we would sit and read the paper together, and downtown where we hung out and people- watched. I have to open my window to catch my breath as the memories of my happy life before his death flood my mind. But when I pass the cemetery where I laid him to rest, those memories turn dark—the shooting, the funeral, the lowering of his casket, and how completely lost I felt. How alone I was.
Then I remember it wasn’t until the day I walked down that hallway in Vegas, looked through the glass wall of the meeting room, and saw River that the veil was lifted. It was River’s unwavering love that showed me how to live again. He made me whole and I can’t help but think about how much I love everything about him.
Images of Ben, images of River, memories of both men—it all fills my head. Ben’s back—what happens next? I don’t know the answer to that, but I do know that my intense connection with River is undeniable. The love I have for him is like nothing I’ve ever felt before; but Ben was my first love and that kind of love never leaves you—does it?
All of these thoughts tumble through my mind and I suddenly feel sick. I have to pull over as my stomach clenches with apprehension. I park illegally, turn off the car, open the door, and hang my head between my knees. When the wave of nausea finally passes I look at my reflection in the rearview mirror. Oh God, what am I doing going to see him?
I grab my purse and fumble inside for my phone. I can’t do this. I need to call River. I want to go home. He needs to come get me. I don’t think I can drive. I shouldn’t have come. I dump my purse out on the passenger seat in search of my fucking phone, but it’s not there. Shit! River has it.
I sit back and take a few calming breaths. After finally pulling myself together, I decide it has to be now. There’s no sense in putting this off, and I know never isn’t an option. I’m almost there, so I might as well see this through. With wavering resolve, I start the ignition and head toward the beach to find out from Ben what happened.
I drive the rest of the way in silence, afraid to turn the radio on, for fear of hearing familiar songs that might awaken even more memories. As I turn into Grace’s driveway, I once again start doubting this course of action and wonder if I should be doing this now. I mean . . . what am I even looking for? But I know the answer to that—I need some answers. Answers to two questions—why did Ben leave; and what brought him back?
Putting the car in park, I lean my head back. I sit there for a moment staring at the house, trying to figure out what I’m going to say to him. From the outside, the house still looks like the same tranquil place it has always been, a home—Grace’s, Ben’s, mine. But I’m uncertain of what lies in wait on the inside—what if tranquility is not what I’m about to walk into? I draw deep steady breaths and turn off the engine, preparing myself to see him, all the while wondering if we would even still be together if he never “died.” I want to believe that in the end, River and I would still have found our way back to each other.
Glancing toward the moonlit path, there stands Ben on the old weathered planks staring at my car, at me. My breath catches at the sight of him. I stay where I am, frozen in place for the longest time. I didn’t expect to see him outside. He looks mostly the same: ruggedly handsome chiseled face, tall figure, khaki cargo shorts, messy blond hair peeking through the hood of his sweatshirt. He looks thinner than he was, not as tan as he used to be, but he’s still Ben, still all surfer. He’s not a figment of my imagination and, for a moment, time stops and I’m transported back to the days when he’d stand there like that waiting for me to follow. I can’t believe it’s really him . . . my friend, my rock, he’s not really dead. What I’m afraid of I’m not even sure. But the longer I sit here, the longer he stares and I finally open the door.
As I walk toward the bridge, my feelings are so undefined. I’m not sure how to handle this conversation. But my uncertainty quickly fades when the slightly cocky grin I know so well appears on his face, and the apprehension I felt earlier wells within me. I’m no longer questioning if I should be here because I know I should—I need to know what happened to him.
When I stop a safe distance from him our eyes meet and his grin immediately disappears. He pulls his hood off and lowers his head but never once takes his gaze off me. With his hands shoved in his pockets he leans back against the unstable railing looking almost stoic. I can’t stop staring at him. My heart beats faster with every passing second and I feel like I’m sinking in quicksand. I have the urge to run and escape whatever it is pulsing through my body but I don’t. I can’t. I’m glued to this spot held captive by his gaze.
Biting my lip, I stop and stand in front of him, motionless—we are former lovers turned strangers. Neither one of us speaks a word for the longest time. When an owl hoots in the distance, Ben lifts his head and a warm smile appears. “Dahl, Hoot is back. She must have known we’d need someone to break the silence.” Every time we used to hear an owl, he would tell me that its name was Hoot, as if there was only one.
“Can we talk?” he asks and the sound of his voice scares the living shit out of me. It’s the voice I missed for so long and up until nine months ago would have given anything to hear.
I nod my head. We do need to talk. That’s why I’m here. It’s just strange, odd, forced; I can’t even open my mouth to speak to him. It’s not like we haven’t seen each other in a long time and I’m just here to catch up. He was dead.
He, however, seems at ease, comfortable, and just like always he finds the right words for the situation. Standing, he straightens and motions with his shoulder to the beach. He heads toward the water and I can’t help but notice that he walks with the same stride he always has—slow and steady. I study him as I follow behind. The muscles in his shoulders are much less pronounced and the span of his back seems narrower. I’ve never seen him
