RUIN - Part Two (The RUIN Series Book 2)
Read RUIN - Part Two (The RUIN Series Book 2) Online
Authors: Deborah Bladon
RUIN
Part Two
New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author
Deborah Bladon
First Original Edition, October 2014
Copyright © 2014 by Deborah Bladon
ISBN: 9781926440088
Cover Design by Wolf & Eagle Media
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and situations either are the product of the author's imagination or are used factiously.
All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without written consent from the author.
"Kayla, I didn't think you'd come."
"I couldn't stay away." It's a quick retort. The words are a clear reflection of the inner need that has been pushing against my better judgment for two days.
It's been two days since Noah and Alexa ripped wide open the wound that Ben has been nursing for the past twelve years. I watched in silence as he collapsed to his knees, his body wrought with sobs as Noah had stood over him, a litany of accusations pouring from his lips in a frenzied rush.
Even then, in that moment, I wanted to fall next to him, wrap him inside of my arms and shield him from the barrage of painful reminders of that day. I wanted to scream at Noah to back off. I wanted to force them to leave. I wanted time to stop just at the moment before Noah and Alexa knocked at the door.
"I'm sorry you were in the middle of that," he whispers, his eyes moving to the table next to us in the crowded hospital cafeteria. "I haven't seen Noah in years. Now you know why."
I don't really know why. I only know that Ben was arrested for his mother's death when he was a teenager. The blanks that need to be filled in are expansive and wide. I'd pulled Alexa and Noah out of Ben's apartment with the promise that I'd listen to all the facts. When we got back to their place, the details were sparse and disjointed. I left there only sure of one thing, that I needed to see Ben.
"Noah explained some of what happened." It's broad and meant to be open-ended. I don't know where to start. I have no bearing on where this conversation is supposed to begin.
He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. "What did Noah tell you?"
"He didn’t say much about the day." I meet his eyes. "He was upset."
In a range of understatements, that one is off the scale. Noah had ranted for more than an hour after leaving Ben's the other night. The words were heavy with anger and distrust. He had rattled on about loss, about life insurance, about trust. Alexa and I had sat, huddled in the corner, listening, waiting, wanting him to calm enough so that we could string together what had happened. I left their home with nothing more than deep regret. I had abandoned Ben on the floor to save him from Noah's ripe temper. I wished, almost instantaneously, that I had stayed and held him.
His thumb traces over the face of his watch, his eyes following its path. "He'll never forgive me for that day."
Forgiveness is a heady beast when death is on the table. They both loved their mother. I had heard it in the words Ben spoke days ago when he retraced the steps he took right before she died. I had seen it in Noah's face, and in his clenched fists, when he confessed to all the pain he's endured since that day.
I have nothing to offer that will change Ben's perception of his brother, other than the truth. "Noah is very angry. He's focused on the fact that you were arrested."
I am too. I haven't admitted it but there are some things that aren't easily ignored. This isn't a typical family squabble. Ben was arrested for his mother's death. He admitted it just days ago and that confession had been on constant replay in my mind.
"I was arrested." He leans closer, the words soft and low. "The charges were dropped almost immediately."
I should feel instant relief at that but it does little to quell the aching need I have inside of me to understand. I've tried to make sense of my inability to listen to Alexa and Noah and forget Ben. I'm smart enough to recognize that part of it is tied to my connection to Alexa. I held her trembling hand in mine as her fiancé paced the floor of their apartment, cursing the fact that he has a twin brother. She had embraced me before I left their place, whispering in my ear how she wished it were different.
The draw towards Ben is more than that though. It's not about the moments in his bed or the rush when I’m in his arms. It's in the person I see when I look in his eyes. There's tenderness and compassion there. It's been there since he first sat down next to me on the airplane.
"Why were you charged in the first place?" I ask. "How did that happen?"
He pushes the, now empty, paper coffee cup away from him and focuses his gaze on me. "It's very complicated, Kayla. I can't answer that here."
Here, being the hospital cafeteria. It's a place where people often gather to discuss death, or at the very least, the possibility of it. It's filled with muted whispers of doctors discussing patients, and patients discussing doctors and visitors trying to convince themselves that a five minute visit with a loved one in intensive care is better than no visit at all.
"When can we talk about it?" I ask bluntly. My need to know more isn't going to vanish now that I've looked at his face. My curiosity is piqued. The broken man that I left on the floor of his apartment two nights ago is now composed, calm and completely in control of our conversation.
"I'm working a split shift." His eyes flit past his watch again. "Can you come to my place tomorrow night?"
I nod. There's no way he can sense the bitter disappointment I'm feeling. I came here because of the bait of an explanation within his text message. I now realize it was a way for him to gauge my interest.
"It might be best if you didn't mention our meeting to Noah or Alexa."
"They are my family." The words leave my lips before I realize the irony woven into them. "I’m not hiding this from them."
He sucks in a deep breath as he pulls his tall frame from the plastic chair. "Understood. I'll have a car pick you up at eight."
"When did you know he was Noah's brother?" She brushes a few loose strands of her hair away from her face. "I've been meaning to ask you that."
It's a question I've seen coming for days. We haven't discussed Ben at all up to this point. We've been avoiding the subject with effortless ease, allowing the events of the other night to settle before we dove back into the brunt of it all. "I didn't know who he was when I first met him. I realized when I fell on the sidewalk grate and he was the doctor helping me."
"You met him before you fell?" Her hand leaps to her neck, pulling on the pendant she's wearing. "When did you first meet him?"
I glance down to my lap briefly. "It was when I came back to New York. We were on the same flight."
"You mean a few weeks ago? When you moved back here after Parker left you?"
The reminder of Parker's abandonment doesn’t sting anymore. I don't lurch at the mention of his name. "It was that night, yes."
"Night?" She takes a deep breath. "What do you mean night? You arrived in the morning."
It was a lie of omission. Alexa had no warning when I showed up on her doorstep that day. I hadn't corrected her when she scolded me for not calling her from the airport to come get me. I chose to let her believe that her apartment was my first, and only, stop when I touched down in New York City. "No. I arrived the night before."
"Where were you? Why didn't you come to my place?"
I want her to put the pieces of that puzzle together herself. I'm not worried about her condemning me for leaving the airport with someone I didn't know. Alexa and I have never judged one another in that way. If it was any other man, she'd probe me for details and congratulate me for taking a step towards forgetting Parker, but this is Ben. He's the one man her fiancé can't stand the sight of.
"I was with him." I pull in a deep breath. "I was with Ben that night."
"What?" Her tone is loud enough to draw glances from those seated near us in the café. "You slept with Ben that night?"
I pull my hands through my hair, separating the dark strands. "I didn't know his last name, Lex. We met on the plane and decided to hook up."
"You expect me to believe you didn't know he was Noah's brother?"
I expect her to believe that I'm being honest and open about what happened. "I didn't know."
"They look alike." She leans back in the chair, crossing her arms over her chest. "I saw the resemblance as soon as Ben opened the door the other night."
I stare at her, absorbing her words. "You saw the resemblance because you live with Noah. I'd only met Noah a handful of times before I left for Boston."
She closes her eyes and throws her head back. It's a classic sign of frustration. I've seen it enough to recognize it. "Kayla. I can't believe you didn't see Noah in him."
"Why would I see Noah in him?" I tap my fingers on the table. "No one ever told me Noah had a brother."
She blows a puff of air out between us. "He didn't want me to talk about it."
I nod, savoring a brief victory within the conversation. "I couldn't have known he was related to Noah. I had no idea."
"That's irrelevant." Her lips thin. "As soon as you knew, you should have told me."
"You're right," I acquiesce. "I should have."
Her face softens. "I'm just glad it's over now. None of us ever have to see him again."
This is the point where I confess. This is the point where I watch her face twist into a confused mess as she tries to process my unexplainable need to get Ben's side of the story. I promised myself I wouldn't sneak around behind her back. I don't want to be that friend. "Alexa, I…"
She cuts me off. "I'm supposed to meet Noah at the florist in ten minutes. Do you want to come?"
"You're choosing flowers for the wedding?" The concept shouldn't feel as absolutely foreign as it does to me. They're moving on a forward path towards marriage. Their reality is still intact.
She's on her feet. "I have to get my order in this week. You're welcome to come if you want."
The subtle difference between wanting me there and accepting my presence as a tag-along isn't lost on me. "I can't." I straighten my back in the chair. "I have a few things to take care of."
Her eyes don't leave her phone. "I'll text you tomorrow."
I nod. By this time tomorrow I'll have Ben's side of the tangled story that is tearing him and his brother apart.
"I didn't kill my mother."
It's a confession that meets me just as I step over the threshold into his apartment. You'd think I'd have a response sitting ready on my tongue. I've thought about this conversation for more than a day. I've wondered what it would feel like to hear him tell me that he didn't do it. I want to hear it. If I'm being completely honest with myself, I need to.
"People jumped to conclusions." He reaches to grab my sweater and purse from my hands. "Noah jumped to conclusions."
I swallow hard. "Noah is very set in his beliefs about that day."
His gaze narrows. "I guess I can't blame you for believing what Noah says. You've known him longer than you've known me."
"I didn't say I believe Noah." My jaw tightens. "I said he has his own idea of what happened."
Turning his head, his eyes catch mine. "I want you to form your own conclusions. I want to give you the facts."
It's more than Noah has offered me. The other night, after we'd left this apartment, Noah hadn't responded to any of my questions. They had floated past him as he repeated over and over again that the reason his mother wasn't going to be at the wedding was because Ben had taken her from him. He spoke of the children he hopes to have with Alexa and how their grandmother will never cradle them or sing to them. Every path that his life has taken, or will take, has been immeasurably impacted by her death and the clear field of blame rests on Ben's shoulders.
"Do you want some wine?" His breath travels over my shoulder as we enter the main room. My eyes stop on the couch where I was sitting when Noah and Alexa barged in. They had come to pull me from Ben's clutches because they believed they knew what was best for me. They don't. They can't. I can't even say for certain that I know at this point.
"I'm fine," I say the words quietly, hoping that they're intent will rub off on me. I'm far from fine. I'm shaking inside.
He motions for me to sit. "I'll pass too then."
I turn my head to look at him as he lowers himself next to me. "I know it's not easy to talk about."
"It's not." He rubs his index finger over his right eyebrow. "I never talk about it but I want you to understand what happened."
The suggestion that it's important to him that I hear his truth quiets my racing heart. "You told me before that you were preoccupied when she died."
"I was with a woman," he says the words I was avoiding. "She was someone I met at a party the night before."
"I remember you telling me about her." I pause before I continue, "I know the details are fuzzy. It was a long time ago."
"I think I blocked out most of it because of what happened that day." His gaze is across the room, floating in the air. "I've thought about it since we first talked about it. Her name was Samantha, I think. She was older than me by a year or two. I remember that."
I lean forward resting my forearms against my legs. "That's the woman you took to the guesthouse?"
"It was my first time." His voice is closer than it was. "I'd never been with anyone before."
I can't say that this falls within the scope of what I expected to hear today. It's caught me so off guard that I feel as though I've lost my center. Ben is the most skilled lover I've had. He's been able to read the subtle nuances of my body as I near my release. He's taken control of my pleasure in a way that no man has ever done before. It's remote to hear him mention his first experience.
"I didn't know that," I offer unnecessarily. Of course I didn't know. We've never discussed our sexual pasts.
"I was impatient." A deep chuckle escapes him. "I was practically clawing at her clothes the moment she arrived."
I smile at the recollection. He was a young man with no experience who was presented an opportunity he'd likely been longing for. "I bet she was doing the same."
"I was tall and thin back then. I was very geeky." He adjusts himself next to me, crossing one long leg over another. "It was a wonder she even noticed me at all."
He's not looking for a compliment. It's not that he wants me to dissuade him from feeling that way but I'm tempted to point out that if he looked anything like he does now, it's no wonder she propositioned him. "I'm sure you were cute."
"I was eager, if nothing else," he says softly. "I was too eager."
"You were a boy who'd never been with a woman before." I tap my finger against his knee. "No one can fault you for that."
"They did then. They still do." There's a small pause. "Noah always will."
The words carry no surprise at all. I bore witness to the veracity of them the other day when I watched Noah tower over Ben, his pointed finger a spear that was channeling every bit of anger that he'd been carrying within his body for more than a decade. The assault of words was violent, direct and laced with a pain that I never knew existed within Noah.
Talking about Noah isn't going to answer any of my questions. "Can you tell me what happened that day?"
His brow peaks slightly as if he wasn't expecting the question. "That day," he repeats. "The day my mother died?"
I nod. I came here looking for a side of the story that made sense. I want to find the good in Ben because I know it's there. I saw it when he cared for me after my fall. I feel it in his touch. I want to hear him confirm it.
"I mentioned before that we were each responsible for taking care of her at different times." His hand runs over the fabric covering his thigh in a lazy circle. "That day I was taking care of her."
"You said your father had taken Noah to a ball game."
"They left shortly before my friend arrived." His head bows slightly. "My father had a rule that we weren't allowed to have anyone over when we were alone with her."
The weight of the responsibility isn't mine to judge. It's hard to imagine laying a person's fate in the hands of a teenage boy. "Why didn't your mother have a nurse or… why …why wasn't someone with medical training taking care of her?" I stumble through the question.
"She wouldn't hear of it." He shakes his head slightly. "At the time I didn't understand it. I was glad to help, don't get me wrong, but it was a lot for all of us to take on. It was the summer right after we graduated from high school and Noah and I were both given eight hour shifts each day to tend to her every need."
There's no spite within his tone. I can hear the faint hum of regret, but I doubt that he wishes the situation itself were different, only the events of that particular day. He's only spoken of his mother with love in his voice. I hear that now again.
"I had to change the oxygen tank that day." His voice grows raspier and deeper. I can sense all the heavy emotion he's feeling. "I needed to do that right after Noah and my father left."
The oxygen tank was at the core of Noah's insistence that Ben intentionally took their mother's life. He had thrown out accusations about Ben deliberately disconnecting her oxygen supply so she'd die. "Noah talked about her oxygen," I offer, trying to spur on his admission.
"I made a mistake." His voice cracks. "I was in a rush to get to the guesthouse to…" his voice fades with the lost words.
"To spend time with your friend," I offer to keep him moving forward. I don't want pointed details about what took place there. I want to know what happened in the main house when he left his mother.
"Yes." He reaches out to run his fingers over my hand. The touch is intimate, comforting and welcome. "She was in my mother's room with me when I changed the empty tank."
The statement is the first step towards my understanding. He was distracted. He was a virginal teenager in a room with a woman who wanted his body. "You were in a rush to change it?"
"I was." He squeezes my hand within his, his eyes dipping to his lap. "I wanted to get to the guest house. I wasn't thinking clearly."
"What happened?"
Time seems to freeze as he stares at our hands, intermingled together. "I didn’t check the hose when I reconnected the new tank. I just assumed that it was fine but it wasn't fastened properly. It fell out of place and she wasn't getting any oxygen."
It's not a slight oversight by any means. It's a life and death mistake that cost him and his brother dearly. "You forgot to check it?" If the words hold any judgment in them, it's not there in my tone.
He looks up from his lap and into my eyes. "My friend kissed me as I set the new tank in place. I'd kissed girls before but this was different. There was a need there. It was overwhelming."
I see the pain in his expression. "What then?"
"I can't remember exactly." He straightens his legs, his back stiffening against the couch. "We kissed more. She told me she wanted to do things to me."
He was caught in his own desire. He let a woman into a space that was forbidden. "You forgot about the tank?"
"I forgot everything." He hesitates a moment, then exhales audibly. "I took her to the guesthouse and she blew me. We spent hours in the bed there, doing everything I wanted. When it was over I fell asleep. The next thing I remember was waking up to the smell of weed, she was gone and my father was crying telling me mother was dead."