“He gets into some trouble. It’s expected, but he’s a good kid. But I don’t want to talk about Branson. I really did come here to check this out, but I also wanted to chat about Ben.”
Lowering her voice, she stepped closer. “I need him to let go of this obsession he has about taking care of Branson. It makes me feel like I can’t do it, and I’m his mom. Plus, Ben’s done enough. For the last month, since he started seeing you, he’s been happier and seemed to be finally living his own life, giving me some space. The last week, though, I’ve seen and heard from him too much. All his opinions on Branson and what he should do, where he should be aiming to go to college, what he shouldn’t do. Ugh, I can’t take it.”
Brenna grabbed her forehead and met my gaze. “I’m sorry. You don’t need me to dump this on you while you’ve got an event going on. But know this—you need to call Ben and try. He needs you. And honestly, without you, he’s going to run himself ragged trying to run my life. So, please, from the bottom of my heart, please go talk with him.”
The words clogged in my throat. “I’ve tried, but he won’t talk with me. Ben is such a good guy, one of the best, but he doesn’t want me.”
I knew she believed in her brother, but she was right. Ben needed his own life, so she could have hers. But there wasn’t much I could do about it.
Brenna gave me a fierce look. “You need to fight for him. This is Ben we’re talking about. He’s always been a bit unsure of where he stood with people, at prep school and Harvard and then back here. He’s always been an outsider, and when he feels that way, he makes himself more of an outsider by stepping back.”
I nodded. “Surprisingly, I understand this because . . . well, never mind. We have history, Ben and me. Also, you should know that I’ve been nearly squeezed to death by family before, and not for all the right reasons like Ben is doing to you. But either way, it hurts like a bitch. Pardon my French. Ben means well,” I said, defending the guy who hadn’t talked to me in over a week.
“It does, though. Being squeezed hurts like a bitch. And I know Ben has a good heart, but sometimes it’s too good. Now, come on. Let’s go eat cupcakes and talk about romance books. That’s way better than this, but promise you’ll go see him.”
I didn’t promise anything, but I felt my head nod.
Then Brenna looped her arm through mine, and I noticed how skinny she was, her bony arms hidden under a silky lavender blouse. She needed to take care of herself. I imagined life was hard for a single mom to a teenage boy in rural Vermont, but Brenna didn’t strike me as the type who complained. I took all of her in with her chocolate-brown leggings, tan ankle boots that were scuffed and worn yet stylish, and her hair in soft waves.
“Do you know Scott?” I couldn’t help but ask on our way toward the cupcakes.
“Scott Stevens? Of course,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “We went to school together.”
“Oh?” Yep, there was something more there. “I was at his farm with Ben and Branson, and he seemed to have fond memories of you.”
“Not now,” she said before grabbing a cupcake.
I made a mental note to explore the matter later and went about leading the book club, eating cupcakes, and admiring everyone’s nail polish while smelling phantom Americanos and Ben’s woodsy scent.
I decided after a good night’s sleep, I would do what Brenna (and I) wanted and make amends.
33
Ben
Saturday morning, I moped around my house, hoping my dad would call with a chore he needed help with, or maybe Branson would text me, wanting to hang. I could take him to see the new house, and he could pick out a room to use when he was there.
Or I could make some notes of work I needed to have done on the new house. It would take less time than I’d originally thought, but I didn’t dwell on that either.
Frustrated, I glared at my phone, lying there all quiet on the counter.
Idle time wasn’t my friend. Rather than pace or head into the hospital to check on patients who didn’t need checking on, I opened my laptop and reviewed an app contract. It was perhaps my biggest one yet, and I had no one to share the good news with, no one to toast with, not a fucking soul to even congratulate me.
Rather than wallow in self-pity, I went over some of the details in the contract. I was lost in the provision where it explained my medical license was accepted through endorsement of the state of New York when there was a knock on my door.
For a second, I thought I was imagining it, and then I heard it again. It was soft and timid, but someone was rapping on the wood.
I opened the door to reveal a disheveled Murphy with windblown hair framing her tear-streaked face and ruddy cheeks. Mentally, I reprimanded myself for wanting to grab her and hold her. Her car was at the bottom of my driveway, and for a moment, I thought it was running. I guessed she was here to say good-bye. She must be heading off to somewhere with her parents, a place where she could be a well-known Landon.
“Murphy.” I blew out her name with a sigh of relief. I was unbelievably happy to see her, yet still angry about what had happened with her parents,
