The others had the depth of onion skin compared to my time with Ben. Of all the boyfriends in all the countries and all the circumstances that I'd experienced, none of them saw me with the same intensity. None of them stoked a fire in my stomach just when they looked my way.
The fact that Benjamin saw the relationship so differently than me set all of this on a different axis. Should I have told him point-blank that, like my mom, I showed my love through giving? That food and care was a comfort, but really just a way to connect? To create stronger bonds? It fed my soul to be part of their lives.
To be part of something.
No, it wouldn't have mattered. Whatever fear he battled was deeper than me taking care of them. He'd already decided that things wouldn't work. The only person that could convince him that we'd work was him. His fear was Sadie-deep, and the only person to swim those waters was Ben.
Somehow, he'd managed to pull Sadie into what we had. That I could barely comprehend his reasons—as sincere as he seemed them to be—made it almost impossible to understand.
Two more tears slid free, scouring my already painful cheeks from the previous hour of crying. Did he deserve this kind of response? This level of pain? We'd only kissed a few times. And, as soul-turning as it had been, he was right. We really hadn't been on a date. Everything between us was the result of working together for Ava. Passionate exchanges. Him helping me navigate this strange world of Talmage's new addiction. Was my heartbreak pre-emptive or excessive?
What did it matter? The pain was real. The loss was even more real.
The loft lay in almost-darkness when I wrapped myself up in a blanket and lowered onto the couch, eyes stinging and puffy. The cushions felt cool beneath my cheek, and a breeze wafted inside from an open window. Sounds of Pineville at night followed, and the sense of not being alone was oddly soothing.
Finally, my tears slowed.
Eventually, my thoughts cleared, then shuttered themselves into neat little lines.
There would be no getting through to Benjamin from my end. Even if he came over tonight and said he wanted to try again, I'd send him away until he faced whatever Sadie demon still worked within him.
But I had my life to think about now.
This situation meant some potentially awkward moments after I took care of Ava, but if I played it right, Ben and I could almost avoid each other. As long as I knew when he would be home, I'd be ready to leave the moment he stepped inside. With summer here, I could easily walk back to the Frolicking Moose in the daylight, and Pineville wasn't that scary anyway. After a week or two, it would be tolerable, I was sure.
Knowing that there would be no more of his smell wrapped around me, however, gave me a physical pain. No more making myself at home in his space. No more feeling safe. The loss of such security crushed my very heart.
One week. I'd give Benjamin one more week to sort through the Sadie monster. If he still wasn't ready to face the truth, I would leave. If he didn't do that within the next week, would he do it at all? Seeing him at night when he returned from work would help me gage whether the budding relationship we had would live or die. If he worked out his Sadie issues, I'd know it by then.
And if not?
I'd stay long enough to find someone for Ava, then I'd move onto my next place. Tomorrow, I'd start to find backup locations for a mountain summer. There had to be thousands of other small mountain towns that could fill my desire for a summer in the sky.
Good plan, I thought, feeling marginally better. The plan behind me wasn't one I wanted, but I had no choice. It left me in a glum, morose mood, but that would eventually lift as the excitement of a new adventure followed.
I hoped.
My eyes fluttered shut. I tried to block out all sounds, afraid that if I listened too hard, I'd hear the crack of my own heart.
I woke up at 5:30, my neck tight and head swimming like a thick liquid filled it. Bleary-eyed, I struggled to the bathroom, splashed cold water on my face, and completely avoided the mirror.