“Nothing has changed. She belongs with me.”
“She belongs with me,” River yells, and his voice sounds like it could cut through steel.
“Fuck you,” Ben responds.
And I don’t hear anything else as everything around me goes black. Until the fresh air outside hits my senses and I begin to regain consciousness. River cradles me in his arms on the way to the car. Grace is behind him. She’s pleading with him to stay and bring me to her room. I don’t hear his answer. He sets me in the front seat and I’m at least able to sit up. Leaning into the car he asks if I’m okay, but I can’t even nod my head. He whispers in my ear that he just wants to get me home.
At the edge of my vision I see Caleb getting out of his car and taking in the scene. River hurries across the car to the driver’s side. At the front door of the house, Serena is grabbing Ben’s arm as he moves toward us, screaming at River. My throat tightens with an unfamiliar feeling. River’s yelling as he storms toward Ben, but Caleb gets to Ben first and pushes him toward the house. Needing some air, I roll down the window and hear Ben yell, “You filled a void when I wasn’t here, but you’re no substitute for the real thing.” Not wanting to hear his voice anymore, I close the window.
When I see Ben lunge for River, I’m relieved that Caleb stops him and River heads back to the car. As the door opens I hear Ben yelling, “Dahl, don’t leave!” My trembling intensifies at hearing his voice again and the tears are flowing from my eyes like a heavy rainstorm. I try to blink back the confusion.
The door slamming startles me from my emotional turmoil. He’s angry. His body is tense and he pounds his hands against the steering wheel. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” The sound echoes between us. Keeping his head bowed for a few seconds, he looks up at the ceiling before looking at me. “Are you okay?” His tone fails in its attempt at normalcy.
Nodding is all I can do. My limbs are limp and a broken sound escapes my lips. Studying me, he reaches over and moves the strand of hair that has fallen into my face away from my eyes. Pulling my chin up, he wipes my tears away, but says nothing and neither do I. I don’t even know what I would say . . . I don’t even know how I feel other than that I might explode—cry, scream, might even laugh.
I can’t imagine how he feels right now. I hear the rhythm of his breathing and feel his hands trembling. The tips of fingers on my face are warm and loving and I lean into them.
My eyes are focused on him and I jump when there’s a rap on my window. It’s Grace checking on me. River lowers the window, but I keep my eyes on him. Her words fade in and out as I focus on his face—the one constant in my life right now. Telling her he’ll call her in the morning; he closes the window even though she’s still talking. No more words are spoken as he starts the car. When the car accelerates with a quick jerk, I rest my head against the glass window and allow myself to fade back into unconsciousness.
“Let me get you some water,” River says in the most somber tone I’ve ever heard him use, when I wake up groggy at home on the sofa. He stops to turn the fireplace on and then heads for the kitchen. From where I’m sitting, I can see him standing at the sink. He puts both palms over his eyes and holds them there for a short while. Then he fills a glass with water and gulps it down before refilling it and bringing it to me. I rub the glass against my forehead, but it’s not cold enough to numb the turmoil swelling in my soul. I watch him as he sits next to me on the couch. He takes my ringing phone from his pocket and turns it off. Then he takes out his own phone, turns it on, and moves his finger around on the screen before speaking to me.
The pain of my sore body is a welcome distraction from the pain of seeing Ben alive. I wish it would overcome me and mask the emotion I’m not sure I should be feeling.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he says calmly. Almost too calmly . . . he sounds detached, like he’s talking but not listening to his own words.
“No! No, I don’t. Not now! And stop talking to me that way.”
He flinches. “I’m not talking to you in any way.”
“River, I’m sorry. I’m just so confused right now.”
My tears turn into near-hysterics and he pulls me to him. “You don’t have to apologize. I’m here to talk whenever you’re ready.” Then he kisses my head and just holds me.
After what seems like hours, my crying wanes. I’m drained, depleted of all emotion. I don’t even have enough energy to cry anymore; I don’t have any more tears left to shed. Looking up into his conflicted face, I know it’s a reflection of my own. “I love you. This doesn’t change anything,” I whisper, feeling strongly that he needs to know this.
“It changes everything, Dahlia.”
I can tell he’s trying to keep his voice neutral but contempt flares at the edges of his words. His tone is despondent, disconnected, and I can’t even fathom what he thinks about Ben being alive. He needs time to process this, just like me. But right now I think we both need to push it aside. Neither one of us is in the right frame of mind to discuss the impact Ben will have on our lives.
Just wanting to feel something other than pain or despair, I crush my lips to his, needing to let him know, to feel, how much I love him. He returns my kiss, but when I move to straddle him and start to lift his shirt, he gently pushes me back. He stares at me.
“No, Dahlia, not now. I can’t right now,” he whispers in a broken tone.
“River, it’s okay.
He shakes his head and pulls me to him. He turns the TV on and lays us down on the couch, tucking my head under his chin. He starts to watch a boxing match and rubs my back. I eventually nod off.
But it’s all waiting for me when I wake up a little while later. I’m lying against the back of the sofa and River is facing me with his arms and legs bracketing my body. While looking at him, everything comes rushing back. Why we fell asleep out here. What happened wasn’t a dream or a hallucination.
With all of the questions pounding through my mind, I really can’t even understand how any of this is possible. What was he talking about—he did it for me? Did what? One minute I’m running off to Las Vegas to marry the man of my dreams . . . the next minute the man I spent most of my life with, the man whom I thought was dead—is back.
The flickering blue light from the TV and the flame from the fireplace are the only lights in the room. I look at River and wonder how this will affect us. He’s twitching in his sleep and I rest my hand over his heart to feel the steady beat. I can feel the warmth of his skin under his thin T-shirt and I want him—I want to touch him, to connect with him.
Leaning into him, I softly kiss his jaw as I run my hand up his chest. He instantly responds as his arms, already wrapped around me, tighten.
In his ear I whisper, “River.”
He shifts slightly so that I am lying on top of him and his eyes open. “You okay, beautiful?” he asks as his green eyes flicker and then meet mine.
I nod and trace my tongue around the seam of his lips. He places his hand on my head and pulls it down to his chest, clutching me close to him, like he wants to hold me forever.
Lifting my head, I kiss his neck. I hear his breathing pick up, but once again he pulls me close and hugs me. I push myself back up so we’re face-to-face. “River, I want you.”
He closes his eyes and when he reopens them, he combs his fingers through my hair then pauses to cradle my head with both hands. He sighs as his forehead meets mine. I kiss the very corner of his lips and his mouth opens to welcome me. Our tongues entwine and I close my eyes as I slide my hands down his sides. I want to mold my body against his, showing him how much I truly love him. I need to show him for him and for me.
He tears his lips from mine as he places his hands on my shoulders and lifts me off of him slightly. “Dahlia, we should probably talk . . .”
But I cut off his words. I don’t want to talk. I just want to feel his love. I suck on his bottom lip for a long moment and then run my tongue down his neck. Pressing my lips against his smooth skin, I wedge my knees between his legs and a small moan escapes his throat. I kneel and he spreads his legs wider. I study his long lean body that I have come to know so well and feel myself shiver in anticipation. My eyes lock on the elastic of his boxers peeking from under the waistband of his jeans. A hint of his toned abs shows from where his shirt has lifted and I want to lick what’s under that black band.
I pull my shirt off and toss it to the ground, keeping my eyes in line with his. Biting down on my bottom lip,
