Author: Jill Shalvis

Ben gave them a single hard look, and Jack grinned. But he did lower the shade on the window, leaving them alone.

Ben turned back to Aubrey. “The size of my hammer?”

Yeah…she couldn’t believe she’d said that, either. She opted to try to find the moral high ground and lifted her chin. “You’re missing my point.”

He crossed his arms over the chest that she wanted to lick from the sternum to the edge of his boxers and beyond.

Focus, she ordered herself. “I couldn’t help myself,” she said. “Being with you. I knew it was a bad idea. Hell, you knew it was a bad idea. And yet we did it. We both did it, Ben.”

He continued to just look at her, and this reminded her that she was mad. “Look,” she said. “I’m tired of you not saying anything. So stop being quiet and speak up.”

“I’m used to quiet.”

“Well, that’s just great,” she said, tossing up her hands. “Because I’m so not good at quiet.”

“No kidding.”

She refused to let him get her off track with his pissiness, even if he had good reason for it. “Ben,” she said, stepping closer. “I’m so sorry I hurt you. And I’m sorrier than I can say about what I told Hannah. I was a horrible bitch back then. But I’m not that person anymore. I have no excuse except that I was miserable and Hannah had everything I wanted, including you. But that’s not who I am now.”

He still didn’t say anything, but she could tell he was processing what she’d said. She should just shut the hell up, but she had this chance to talk to him. She didn’t know if she’d get another, so she needed to put everything out on the table. “And I never meant to keep the truth from you,” she said. “I honestly didn’t know how to tell you, much less fix it.”

“It can’t be fixed,” he said.

There was another gasp from Jack’s duplex. At this, Ben swore under his breath and yanked Aubrey inside. He slammed the door and faced her, hands on hips.

“It can’t be fixed?” she repeated shakily.

“Well, what did you think, Aubrey? You stole two years of my life with Hannah. How did you expect me to react? And you slept with me before you told me. And you kept sleeping with me.” He paused, and she wondered if he was remembering how little sleeping had actually been involved.

And how good it had been between them…

“I can’t get past that part,” he said quietly. “I was on your list so that you could make amends, not mess up further.”

“I wasn’t with you because of her,” she said. “Or the list. That part…just happened.”

He closed his eyes and swiped a hand over them.

Not exactly the reaction she’d been hoping for. “We have something, Ben. You know it, and I know it. Here, in the present, we have something. I don’t want to walk away from that, or go quietly into the night. That’s not who I am.”

“No,” he murmured, meeting her gaze, his unfathomable. “You’re the one who waits until midnight, decides she has something to say, and can’t contain it.”

She was pretty sure that wasn’t exactly a compliment, so she ignored it. “I’m in this, Ben. You’re important to me. It’s why you were on my list.”

“You and that list.” He inhaled, long and slow, and then shook his head. “I just want to forget it. Get over it.”

She was standing there, helplessly struggling to overcome her past, fix her present, and secure her future all in one fell swoop. But she was watching Ben’s face, and it told her the truth, the terrible truth. “I’m willing to fight for you, for us,” she said slowly, taking in the devastating realization. “But you’re not.” She staggered back a step, feeling like she’d been hit by a train. “You’re not,” she repeated to herself softly, trying to make it sink in.

It didn’t want to sink in. “You’re not willing to fight for us at all,” she said. “You’re really going to use this as an excuse to get out.”

“There’s nothing to get out of,” he said. “There was no us.”

Rubbing her chest, she stared up into his eyes, which were wiped of emotion, just completely blank. And that hurt the most, she thought dazedly, in shock that he could do this, just walk away. She couldn’t fight that. She didn’t know how. And though she hated it, she had no choice. She had too much pride to be the only one in this, the only one fighting.

“I’ll be by to finish the wood trim,” he said.

He didn’t finish the rest of that sentence, which was clearly “and that’s it.” He didn’t have to.

“Forget it,” she said.

“It was a gift,” he told her. “And I finish what I start.”

She had to laugh. It was better than crying. And she’d cried her last tear over him, she promised herself. “Are we seriously having some stupid conversation about the trim after you just dumped me?” she asked in disbelief.

“I didn’t dump you,” he said. “We were never exclusive.”

And the hits kept coming, even if it was the utter truth. “You’re right,” she said. “This was never a relationship—which we were both perfectly clear about from the get-go.” She really hadn’t meant to get involved, but she had, and the damage was done. He’d been it for her, the only man she wanted to be with. Not that she’d ever fully allowed herself to believe…

Okay, she had. She’d let herself believe. Her mistake. But she’d been there; she knew she wasn’t the only one who’d fallen, damn it. He’d done it, too. He’d shown it in every look, every touch. Every kiss. “You can pretend this is about the past, but it isn’t,” she said. “I think you fell for me, too. And I think it scared you. I get that you’ve been hurt. But that’s life, Ben. Life is one big fat gamble, and the odds are never in your favor. So you either go for it anyway and toss the dice or you don’t play. But not playing?” She jabbed him in the bare chest with her finger. “That’s the coward’s way out. And I hadn’t pegged you for a coward. Figure your shit out.”

Chapter 28

Ben was still standing there in the butt-ass-cold doorway of his place in nothing but his boxers when Jack opened his own door. “You’re an idiot,” he said, and then ran down the sidewalk after Aubrey. Grabbing her, he redirected her 180 degrees and poured her into his car.

Ali and Leah came out of Jack’s house, both taking the time to glare at Ben as well.

“What he said,” Leah told him, gesturing her head toward Jack.

And then they were gone, leaving Ben alone to wonder when the hell everyone had gone from wanting him to steer clear of Aubrey to wanting them to be together.

The next morning, Ben got up early to head into work. It was a Saturday, which was perfect. He could catch up a little bit. He swung by to pick up Pink and Kendra and give them a lift to their rec ball soccer practice.

Because five-year-olds didn’t judge. Things were black and white for them. They didn’t give a shit that maybe he was afraid to be happy.

The girls were in their yard playing with…Dani. Proof positive that the logic of women was far beyond him.

At the school field, he stopped and put the truck into park. He unbuckled the girls and held on to the back of Pink’s jacket when she went to slide out of the vehicle. “Hold on a sec,” he said. Christ—he was going to do it; he was really going to ask. “I thought we didn’t like Dani.”

Pink shrugged. “She said she was sorry for being mean.”

Kendra nodded, her pigtails flying.

Just like that, just that easy. Ben looked into their sweet, innocent faces and felt something shift within him. They were so damn resilient. So easy to please. So completely full of life.

And so full of forgiveness.

He wished like hell he could be five again, when a “sorry” fixed everything. But it couldn’t now. Nothing could.

The girls hopped out of the truck, but not before pressing sloppy wet kisses on his jaw in thanks.

Bemused, Ben sat there for a long moment, absorbing the fact that he’d just been schooled on life and forgiveness by a couple of five-year-olds. God, he was tired. So fucking tired. But every time he closed his eyes, he could see the pain in Aubrey’s gaze. It haunted him.

He’d hurt her. She’d finally opened up to someone—him—and he’d tossed it right back in her face.

She was trying to right her wrongs, trying to be a person she could live with, and he’d used her past against her. Which meant this wasn’t about Aubrey at all. It was about him and his own fears of letting someone in as far as he’d let Hannah—which hadn’t worked out so well for him.

But what had happened to Hannah hadn’t been his fault, and Aubrey was right. Life was a risk. He could hide from that or…live it.

The choice was his.

Figure your shit out. That’s what Aubrey had told him, and at the time that had just pissed him off because he’d thought she’d been the one who needed to figure things out.

But he’d been wrong about that, too.

The news of what Aubrey had done to Lucky Harbor’s beloved Ben McDaniel spread like wildfire. That on top of the nudie pictures pretty much did her in.

Foot traffic to the store on the day of her grand-opening party was practically nonexistent, and Aubrey knew in her gut she was sunk. “No one’s going to come to the opening tonight,” she told Ali and Leah as they arrived to help her set up.

“That’s okay,” Leah said. “We’ll eat the cupcakes ourselves.”

“Not exactly the point,” Ali murmured.

Leah took in Aubrey’s obviously devastated face. “Right,” she said quickly. “We’ll buy a bunch of books, too.”

The bell above the door pinged, and they all turned in renewed hope as Carla walked in. She wasn’t in scrubs today but was wearing a dress, and at the sight of her, Aubrey’s anxiety ratcheted up a couple of notches.

“Wow,” Ali whispered. “You have a look-alike.”

Aubrey ignored her. “Hey,” she said to her sister.

“Am I early for the grand-opening party?” Carla asked, looking around.

Aubrey found her voice through her surprise. “No. We’re it. We’re the party.”

Leah held out a tray of cupcakes as Carla looked around in confusion.

“Long story,” Aubrey said.

“Cupcake?” Leah asked.

Carla took one and moaned. “Oh, my God.”

Leah beamed. “Better than an orgasm, right?”

“I don’t remember what an orgasm feels like,” Carla admitted, and they all laughed.

Aubrey poured her a hot tea. “Thanks for coming and supporting me.”

Carla met her gaze. “Well, we are sisters.”

Aubrey felt some of her anxiety drain away as she nodded, unable to speak. But though her anger had drained as well, she was still flatlined by an unbearable sadness. She’d handled things wrong—all of it. “The party wasn’t my smartest idea. Who really opens a bookstore these days?” She shook her head. “No one, that’s who.”

“Well, that’s a piss-poor attitude, missy,” Lucille said, coming into the store, carrying a stack of papers. “I’m surprised at you. You’re supposed to be all kick-ass—Wonder Woman. Did you ever see Wonder Woman give up?”

“Lucille,” Aubrey said. “You know how much people loved Hannah. You know I can’t compete with that. Not after what I did.”

“What you did,” Lucille said, “was human. All of us have stuff we’re ashamed of. Every single one of us. And if people don’t remember that, well, shame on them.”