Giving in, I sheepishly admitted, “Us. I was thinking about us, you know, studying. Studying with you. Hanging with you, pretending to be studying too. I knew you liked me.”
Ben smiled, the most natural, gorgeous thing I’d ever seen, with his straight teeth and small laugh lines bracketing his mouth.
Meeting his eyes again, I blurted, “Your patients must all fall in love with you.”
“Why?”
“Don’t fish for compliments, Ben. Seriously, it’s not polite.”
“I see now. You can take a girl out of her fancy digs, but she still has manners,” he teased, but not in a mean way. It only reminded me further about the way he used to joke with me.
“Hey, that’s not nice.”
He laughed, his smile widening. “You know I’m kidding. It’s okay to not always be so proper. You’ve got to let loose, Murph.”
I nodded. “I know. But it’s tough because this is me. I’m wound tight.”
“You always were. Even back when I liked you, and of course, I knew that you knew. I was pretty much Captain Obvious.”
Looking down at my sandals, I sighed. “I wasn’t nice back then.”
“You were nice behind closed doors.” His hand found mine and he urged me close again. “I always felt like I got to see the real you, the version no one else was privy to. For that, I was lucky.”
“My parents wanted me to be a certain way.”
“Well, you’re a grown-up now. Making your own way,” he said, tossing my earlier words back at me.
“That’s right.”
“Great.” He stood, dropping my hand. “What are you hungry for?”
“Anything but scones.” I stood to meet him, and seeing myself in the mirror, I held up a finger. “Wait, my makeup.”
“Forget it. Let’s go to the diner near my office. Best breakfast for dinner and pie you’ll ever have. You won’t see a soul. Come on,” he said, taking my hand again. “They’ve been around for over a hundred years. You don’t need to impress anyone there. Plus, you don’t need makeup.”
“Ben . . .” I growled out his name, but he had my hand, and I wasn’t ready to let go. I didn’t even bother asking if they had a decent salad.
7
Ben
Walking behind the Jeep to the driver’s side door, I tossed my backpack full of wet clothes in the back and cursed myself for getting involved in this. Murphy was a bad habit I couldn’t shake. I’d never been able to see the bad in her, and there was a lot of it. Then, like an idiot, I’d kissed her, as though I wasn’t punishing myself enough already.
“Let’s go,” I told her.
Ignoring the shitstorm in my head, I slid into my seat and turned the car away from Colebury and back toward Montpelier. I didn’t think the Colebury diner was ready for the interest we’d stir up by going there together, and I didn’t necessarily need my sister hearing any gossip about me.
To be honest, I should have gone into the office, done some charting, and maybe focused on my latest pet project. I had some major things in the works, and getting distracted by Murphy wasn’t in the plan.
“So, you came back here when? After Harvard?” Murphy asked, but continued to look out at the road ahead of us.
“Yeah, I decided to do med school closer to home and be near my parents. I missed the solitude, or maybe just the quiet here. I’m not a recluse, but all that keeping up with the Joneses—where they were going, what they were doing, and how much it cost—it was too much.”
It wasn’t like I was revealing anything Murphy didn’t know. I couldn’t stand any of that shit at Pressman either.
“I guess I lucked out and matched for my residency in Burlington, and then landed a job in Montpelier when the orthopedic surgeon there retired. Funny, he was the one to take care of my broken arm before I came to Pressman, and also the one to send me for the second opinion on my ankle at Harvard. He was a good guy, big shoes to fill. Worked by himself for years. It wasn’t until his last five years working, they brought a second guy on.”
“Must be nice,” she said softly.
“What, the quiet? The regular old homebody part? Retiring,” I said, joking.
“No. Being near your family.” Murphy’s face fell, sadness dulling her eyes. Even in profile, I could see wetness pool in them. Her family might be a bag of dicks, but they were still her family.
“Seriously, are you going to tell me what happened with your family? What made you come to Vermont, working as a barista, making it on your own when you come from one of the wealthiest political families in New York?”
Staring straight ahead, she breathed in, sucking back whatever emotion was ravaging her. “You mean you didn’t google me?”
“No, why would I do that? I’m not even on Facebook or Insta-whatever-you-call-it. I definitely don’t sit around googling people. I prefer to get my information directly from the people I care about. I guess you can add ‘old soul’ to the list when describing me.”
I risked a quick glance at Murphy and noted her neck reddening. I wasn’t sure whether fear or shame was causing it, but I didn’t want to push.
“I really don’t want to talk about it. Is that okay?” When she finally turned toward me, her expression was as fiery as the ambush making its way up her neck and her hair. Her green eyes blazed, daring me to ask for more of an explanation.
Having no desire to pressure her, I didn’t bite. We might have run hot and cold in prep school, but I knew Murphy’s tics and mannerisms, probably better than anyone, since we spent most of our time behind closed doors with our guards down.
“Of course it’s
