That One Night (That One Series Book 1) (24 page)

His jaw clenches and his body tenses. “Fuck, Frankie. Maybe it’s for the best if I leave. Before I hurt you or Archer. What if I’m like him? What if I end up becoming a monster like my father?”

Taking his hand, I put it to my cheek, longing for a connection with him, something that will ground him, pull him back to me.

“Ben, you’re not. He wasn’t worried about hurting you. You are. You worry about Archer’s wellbeing every single moment. There is not a bad bone in your body. I trust you with him. Do you think I would do that if I thought you were dangerous?”

“I’m sure my mom didn’t think that either.” His voice is low and it has the distinct tone of resignation in it.

“Ben, you have to believe me. Please. God, please believe me.”

He looks at me, a flicker of hope in his eyes that is quickly replaced by the resignation I just heard in his voice.

I don’t know why that moment is what does it, but it makes me angry. It makes me snap out of my depression. It makes me ready to stick my head out of the shell I have been hiding in and to take action.

“I won’t let you do that. Remember what you said to me? You’d fight for us. You did. And now it’s my turn. You won’t leave me; not because you make yourself into something you are not. I love you. And I know you love Archer and me. This won’t destroy us. Do you understand?”

With that, I stand up and march back upstairs, turning on the computer. Half an hour later I’ve booked us a flight to Michigan, quickly sending off a message to his mother from my phone. Then I get out a suitcase and start packing for the three of us. I’m throwing in clothes to last us for two nights, pulling out Ben’s stuff from the dresser, when he walks through the door.

He pauses, taking in what I’m doing, yet not understanding why I’m packing in the middle of the night.

“Frankie, what are you doing?”

“We’re going to see your mom. The flight is in five hours.” He tries to interrupt, no doubt to explain to me why he won’t go, but I don’t even let him start. “I’m not taking a no for an answer. I told you, you’re either in it or you aren’t. You decided you’re in, so you’re not going to jump off the damn train at the first fucking detour. You owe me this. You owe Archer this. We’ll go there and we ask your mom questions that need to be asked. If you still think you’re too dangerous to be around, fine, walk away. But I won’t let you do that without trying. And don’t say anything or I swear to God I will punch you.”

I turn around and continue packing, waiting for Ben to say something. Instead, he comes up to me, taking the shirts out of my hands. I expect him to put them back in the dresser, but he places them in the suitcase.

This little gesture, this little step, makes me feel like a weight has fallen off my shoulders. Maybe we can fix this and undo the damage that his father has caused.

Once we’ve packed, we make breakfast, neither of us really contemplating sleep. Dean drops us off at the airport, and we spend most of the travel in silence. Ben seems lost in his own world, while Archer seems in awe of his new surroundings. And once we’re on the plane, he just can’t get enough of the little bumps and jolts the plane does. He doesn’t need much entertainment, so I make sure to let Ben know I’m there for him, even if it is just me holding his hand.

Three hours later the taxi drops us of at his parents’ house. When we exit the taxi, he stops for a second and it looks like he’s going to balk any minute. His shoulders are rigid to the point I’m wondering if they hurt.

Holding Archer in one arm, I grab Ben’s jacket, pulling him close to me.

“It’s going to be okay. They love you. They are your parents. I love you. And I’m here for you. So is Archer.” I grab his hand, giving him the time to grab our suitcase and Archer’s stuff and we make our way to the house.

We don’t even manage to ring the doorbell when the door is thrown open; Ben’s mom and dad standing in the doorway. She’s clutching her chest and I fear she might have a heart attack any second. Ben is simply standing there, looking down at the ground, one hand holding mine, the other clutching the suitcase. He seems insecure and shy, scared of rejection. He doesn’t get much time to think about it though, since his mother flings herself at him, her arms going around his neck, pulling him close. She’s crying so hard she’s hiccupping. For a second, Ben freezes, before he drops the suitcase and hesitantly closes his arms around her. He squeezes her tight and I hear both of them mutter the words “I’m sorry” countless times.

It takes a while before she reluctantly lets go of him. The neighbors are getting quite the show today. She then turns her attention to me, hugging me close and whispering in my ear. “Thank you for giving me my son back.”

Out of the corner of my eye I see Ron coming up to Ben and with the typical gruffness of a man that has worked hard all his life, he pulls Ben to him. “Welcome home, Son.”

This is what does Ben in. He clutches Ron, holding onto him as if he would crumble to the ground without his support, while tears run down his face. Ron swallows multiple times, clearly choked up. Witnessing that, my emotions take over and my eyes fill with tears, but I don’t get to watch them long as Judith lets me go and turns all her attention to her grandson. At this point, she’s a blubbering mess, sobbing, cooing, hiccupping all at the same time, while she takes Archer out of my arms to snuggle him.

“Let’s go inside. It’s cold out here,” Ron suggests, his voice heavy with emotion. While he pulls Ben inside, I grab the bags and follow, allowing them to have their moment. After we’ve settled in we all sit down in the kitchen with tea, coffee, and donuts spread across the table. I’m bouncing Archer on my knees, trying to keep him busy with the teddy bear he’s playing with in order for Ben to talk to his parents without much disruption.

The room is nearly bursting with the emotions that have built up over the past years and days. But it’s the parents and their son who need to find their way through the emotional fog. It seems like no one knows where to start, how to move past all the issues that have kept them apart for the past two years. Ben is nervous, his leg bouncing up and down at an impressive speed. I reach out and put my hand on his knee, trying to reassure him, to soothe him. It seems to pull him out of his thoughts. He starts talking, without giving his parents any kind of warning.

“Noah escaped the hospital and came to our house.”

The room falls dead silent except his mother’s sharp inhale. Her hand flies to her mouth, her face looks pained.

“He attacked Archer...he...fuck....he tried to kill him.” Ben swallows a few times, undoubtedly to keep his emotions under control. Since it all happened, he hasn’t said it out loud like this to anyone. Saying and hearing it makes it real, and I instinctively pull Archer closer to me, kissing his head.

“He also told us that he tried to kill me.” Ben closes his eyes and is fighting for composure. I soothingly run my hand up and down his thigh.

Judith has started crying again. “Oh God, Ben, I’m so sorry. I should have told you. I should have warned you.” She takes his hand from across the table, clutching it like she’s scared he’s going to bail on her again.

Ben is quiet for a moment, before he shakes his head slowly. “I wouldn’t have believed you anyway. I was too angry, too blind. Mom, I’m sorry.”

Ron soothingly runs his hands down Judith’s arm. He turns to Archer, looking him over. “Is Archer okay? Did he get hurt?”

I shake my head. “Other than a few bruises, he’s fine. Thanks to Ben and the cop that shot Noah.”

Ron reaches out, grabbing Ben’s other hand. “What about you, Son? How are you coping?”

Ben lets out a sigh and it’s the most heartbreaking noise I’ve heard. “Not well...,” he pauses, unsure of what to say next. I see Ron give his hand a gentle squeeze, reassuring him.

Ben inhales loudly. “Dad, he lied to me from the start. Every-fucking-thing he said was nothing but a lie. And I was stupid enough to believe him. If I hadn’t, if I would have listened to mom, this wouldn’t have happened.” He drops his head forward in defeat.

I want to speak up, to tell him it’s not his fault, but his mother beats me to it. She gets up, crouches in front of him and holds his face between her hands.

“You listen to me, Benjamin. None of this is your fault. None of it. We should have told you about him sooner, but we wanted to protect you. Your father...Noah...he’s a very sick man and he’s been like that for a long time. We didn’t want him to hurt you. What he’s done, it was his doing. It was him. Not you Ben. If you want to blame anyone, blame me for not keeping you safe from him.”

It hurts to see how unsure Ben looks, how he questions if he can believe her words. He’s confused, and I can only hope that this visit will help him see things clearer.

We go on to tell them about what transpired, Ben and I picking up where the other leaves off when it gets too much. The wound is still so fresh that talking about it, reliving it, even if just through words, is like pouring salt into it. While Judith seems completely devastated, Ron appears to be torn between worry, pain, and pure anger. When we finish, Ben’s mom comes over and hugs the three of us, while Ben’s dad walks over to the cabinet and gets out a whiskey and four glasses, pouring some for all of us. Once Judith lets go of us, we all down the whiskey in one go, except for Judith—she only nips at it.

“We’re having a hard time coping with what happened. But it’s harder for Ben, for many reasons. He’s worried and scared that Noah’s mental illness is genetic and that he’ll end up like him.” I give Ben a small smile, when he mouths a silent “thank you.”

Judith starts shaking her head.

“Oh no, God, no. Ben, don’t you worry. You aren’t like him and you won’t be.” She grabs his hand again, squeezing it tightly, before she continues. “It’s not hereditary. Noah had an accident as a child.”

As soon as those words leave her mouth, I can see Ben’s shoulders relax slightly, a little of the tension of the past days seeping out. And I, too, am relieved.

“His parents went to visit relatives who didn’t have a baby gate. He fell down marble stairs, suffering a head trauma. He was in a coma for a few weeks. They didn’t even know if he would pull through. When he woke up, he had changed. According to your grandmother, he started being short-tempered, had mood swings, and was violent at times.”

I get up to warm up a bottle for Archer, setting him on Ben’s lap when Ben interrupts his mom.

“You knew? You knew he was crazy?” There is an edge of blame to his voice.

“No. Your grandmother told me after I left him. I mean, he had his mood swings, and sometimes a short temper while I was dating him and was married to him, but he was never violent. If I had any idea...Ben, I would have never left you alone with him.” Her voice is trembling and she’s visibly upset, surely still feeling guilty about what happened. “I didn’t think anything of his irritability. I mean we both weren’t getting much sleep after you were born. You have to believe me...there was no indication that he would do anything like that.”

Even if she has no responsibility in it, as a mother she’ll always wonder if she could have done anything differently. Just as I keep thinking I shouldn’t have opened the door, put Archer in his crib, or called Ben right away.

Ben seems to realize this too.

“I know, Mom. Sorry. I know it’s not your fault. It’s just hard to wrap my head around it all.”

When I give him the bottle to feed Archer, he looks up at Judith.

“You want to give him the bottle, Mom?”

She only nods, too emotional for words. When she takes her grandson and the bottle, her hands are trembling. Ben puts his arm around me and I lean into him. We’re like batteries for one another, feeding each other strength and support whenever it’s needed.

“Why didn’t his mother tell you sooner?” Unsurprisingly, Ben has many questions.

“She didn’t want me to leave him because of it. She thought that maybe being in love and happy would balance him out. In a time where mental illness was a taboo, she never looked into any treatment for him, not wanting her son to deal with prejudice and judgment from others.” Judith pauses for a moment, looking at Archer while he’s happily drinking from his bottle, before she sighs and continues.

“She thought she was doing what was best for him. I can’t blame her though, if she had told me earlier, I would have probably never married him and then I would have never had you, Ben. No matter what happened, you are my everything. And now I have a grandson and a daughter to complete our family.” She smiles at me before nuzzling Archer’s head after he has finished his bottle.

Ron has been quiet throughout the conversation, and I’m guessing just as me he, probably wanted to give Ben and his mom the chance to talk. But now he clears his throat.

“There is much to talk about, but we also need to eat. I’d say we order some food, and someone has to change my grandson’s diaper, and it sure isn’t going to be me. It smells like hell.” With an amused smile tugging at the corner of his lips, Ron makes his way to the phone. “Chinese, Indian, or Pizza?”

We agree on Indian, and while Ron places the order, I attend to Archer. Taking him out of Judith’s arms earns me a pout from her.

“I’ll take care of Archer, before he offends anyone else in this house. We’ll be back downstairs before you know it. I’m sure you and Ben still have lots to talk about.”

Mouthing a silent “I love you” to Ben, I grab the diaper bag and make my way upstairs, with Ron on my heels to bring up the suitcase and to show me the room. Not like I wouldn’t remember, since Ben, Dave, and I used to hang out here sometimes when Ben wasn’t at our house. Well, they hung out and tried to get rid of me, which never worked though.

“You okay, Frankie?” Ron puts the suitcase on the chair in the corner of Ben’s old room. I have to smile. Between posters of bands and half-naked models, are still some posters of wolves. The dark walls and the matching duvet make the room appear comfortable and homey.

“Yeah. Exhausted, but okay. I’m just really glad we came here.”

“We are too. You have no idea.” After a moment of contemplation, he pulls me into a one-armed hug and adds, “Well, but then maybe you do.”

While I change Archer, Ron sets up the travel crib. Together we make our way back downstairs to find Ben and Judith on the couch, deep in conversation. Ron and I join them, Archer happily crawling on his daddy’s lap.

The rest of the afternoon is spent with eating and conversations. We not only talk about Noah and his illness, but about our life in Northampton, about Archer, and about Ben’s time in Arizona. When evening rolls around, I’m exhausted. The past few days and the sleepless nights are catching up with me, making me feel like I’ll fall flat on my face at any moment. So when it’s time to put Archer to bed, I say goodnight myself.

“I’ll be up in a minute.” Ben lets his lips linger at my ear, his breath a gentle caress that makes me shiver. Then he gives Archer a kiss and cuddle, the kind that I haven’t witnessed in the past days. The relief I feel is indescribable. It feels like a weight has been lifted off my chest, and I can breathe again.

“Stay and talk to your mom if you want. I’m not going anywhere.” Looking at Archer, I add, “We’re not going anywhere.”

Kissing him lightly on the lips, I turn around and make my way upstairs. Once Archer is in sleeping, I quickly shower and pull on one of Ben’s shirts, before I fall into his bed. I contemplate that fact for a moment, but can’t fight off sleep long enough to realize that my teenage self would probably pee her pants in excitement. I’m finally in Ben’s bed, wearing his T-shirt and he’s mine.