The End of All Things Beautiful (10 page)

Turns out I was wrong; the walk was just cold and windy. Being
in the middle of nowhere didn’t give me nearly the clarity I thought it would and
now I’m just nervous as hell to meet up with Benji, sober and defenseless. I
thought after all this time he still wouldn’t have this affect on me, but the
moment I saw his face last night, heard his voice, it was like I was eighteen
again. I’d do anything to belong to him. But even more, I’d do anything to
forget what destroyed us.

I’m standing outside of his shop, the store is dark, but I can
see light radiating from under the door of the pole barn. Up against the
silence of my brain, I try to come up with something to say to him, but like
everything else that has to do with these last nine years, the accident and the
guilt I feel over it all, nothing forms.

My hand on the door, I close my eyes and pull it open, sort of
praying he isn’t armed with a shotgun again. While I knew he wouldn’t shoot me,
the whole thing was slightly unnerving.

The barn is far bigger than I imagined and Benji is near the
back sanding what looks like a dining room table. His chin length brown hair is
hanging down in his eyes as he sits on a stool in a pair of worn out jeans and
a white t-shirt. And fuck me if he doesn’t look incredibly hot. So hot in fact,
I feel my face flush at the thought. I don’t even know what’s wrong with me.
This is not what this is about. This is not why I’m here.

I open my mouth to speak, but he silences me as his voice echoes
in the large room. “I didn’t hear your car,” he says, never looking up or
stopping what he’s doing.

“I walked.”

He looks over at me, giving me a quick once over and shakes his
head a little. “You cold?” he asks.

“A little,” I admit, rubbing my hands together. “My feet are
freezing,” I confess almost immediately. “Actually, I’m really fucking cold.”

Although he isn’t looking at me I can see a faint smile on his
face. He waits a second and then sets the sanding block down. “Come here,” he
says and for a minute I have to make sure I’ve heard him correctly, but when he
signals with his head, I walk over slowly.

I stop about a foot away from him and he turns on his stool so
he’s facing me. Before I even realize what’s happening, his hand reaches out
and rests on my hip, his fingers pressing into my butt as he pulls me closer so
I’m standing between his legs. I swear to god I’m going to fucking melt into
the floor. My heart begins racing in my chest and I hope with everything in me
that he can’t see how I’m reacting to his touch, what being this close to him
again is doing to me. Then he takes both my hands in his, bends his head down and
lets out a long slow breath into our cupped hands, and I know I’m going to
fucking die right now.

I feel his hot breath against my cold skin as he breathes into
our joined hands several more times. Goose bumps line my skin and I feel my
entire body start to tingle. Despite his hands being wrapped around mine, mine
are trembling. It takes everything in me not to take his face in my hands and
kiss him. Hard.

But in that instant, he drops my hands and asks, “Better?”

I can’t even form a coherent sentence so I just nod my head and
step away from him, nearly stumbling backward, knowing if I don’t move I’ll do
something both of us will regret.

“If you’re still cold,” he says, returning to his work, “there’s
a blanket on the table over there.” His eyes looking up briefly to indicate
where I should look for the blanket, but then as if he’s unsure of what he’s
just said, he adds, “That is if you want to stay.”

“Do you want me to?” I ask, not meaning for it to sound smug,
but that’s exactly how it comes out. I almost shake my head at my own
stupidity.

He lets out a huff and sets the sanding block down. “What are
you doing here, Campbell?” he asks, returning to the Benji I confronted last
night, a sudden irritation to his tone and his eyes almost glaring at me.

“Your work is beautiful,” I toss out there hoping to change the
subject and avoid telling him why I’m here. I’m honestly not sure why I’m here;
there are so many reasons and suddenly all of them seem invalid. Idiotic. I
shouldn’t have come here.

“Thanks,” he says after a long second and I finally breathe out.
“I don’t do a lot of local business once tourist season is over. The store is
closed until spring.” While he’s at least talking to me, the conversation is
still awkward and it makes me hate what these nine years apart have done to us.

There were times we could talk for hours without a lull in the
conversation or just sit in silence, yet it was never
uncomfortable—companionable and comforting. I miss it. I miss him and
what we had.

“So what do you do during the off season?” I ask, even though it
feels like I’m forcing a conversation.

“There’s an online component to the business. I ship nationwide
and take custom orders through it. There are times that it does better than the
retail store because I can reach a wider clientele.”

Talking about his work and his business seems to ease the
tension, like talking about something that isn’t linked to the two of us and
our past, is safe.

“Wow,” I say, and he smiles at me. It’s that perfect
heart-stopping smile I can remember as far back as age five. He’s always been
beautiful and nothing about that has changed. He might look rugged and scruffy
now, but underneath it all are the shining blues eyes of a boy I fell in love
with long ago.

“How about you?” he asks and I can’t help but notice him subtly
glance at my left hand. “You seem to be doing well for yourself. A Mercedes?”
he says, as he tosses his head in the direction of his house.

“I’m an investor. Well, actually, I research failing companies
and purchase them at a loss and hopefully turn a profit after restructuring. It’s
quite lame, honestly.” Benji looks up at me, his eyes holding my mine for a
split second before I begin to grow nervous and awkwardly interject, “I work
for Jack.”

At this comment Benji literally laughs out loud. “You work for
Jack? Your brother?” The whole exchange makes me smile, and the nervousness I
feel slowly begins to fade.

“Yep. It’s his company, so he’s actually the investor, the money
end of it. I just make him the money.”

He shakes his head and the tension between us eases as a light
smile forms on his face. “Never thought you’d work for Jack,” he says chuckling
a little.

“Yeah, I know. Neither did I. But he’s not too bad to work for.”
I find myself pulling a stool over so I can sit down near where Benji is
working. “As a brother, he’s still a douche bag,” I add, and again Benji laughs
out loud.

“Guess some things never change.”

“Yeah,” I say, and the room falls silent again. Both of us are not
sure what to say and I don’t know what comes over me, but I lean across the
table and place my hand on the side of his face, my fingers brushing softly
against his beard.

“This looks good on you,” I say, but my voice comes out in a
hushed whisper and I feel him lean into my hand. And when his hand covers mine,
I step off the stool until I’m standing in front of him. His other hand
instinctively moves to my hip and I step even closer and like before, I’m
standing between his legs. But this time he stands and I can feel the warmth
radiating from his body. Our breathing grows labored and I realize my hands are
now clutching his t-shirt, while his other hand is now gripping the back of my
neck. If his hands weren’t on my body right now, I’d have fallen to the floor.

He presses his face to the curve of my neck. My eyes close
slowly and I almost moan out loud. I’ve missed what he does to my body, the way
he makes me feel. I miss everything about him.

“God, Campbell,” he whispers, but it’s strained. Like he’s
struggling to control himself.

When he pulls back, I know I’m crying and it’s the last thing I
should be doing. I don’t want him to feel sorry for me.

He cups my cheek and wipes away a stray tear with his thumb
before pressing a kiss to my forehead. “I have to get back to work,” he states,
but it’s almost as if he says it because he knows what we’re doing here will
lead to more than either of us are ready to confront.

“Okay, I’ll go,” I respond, turning toward the door, but his next
words stop me.

“Alex usually brings me lunch in about a half an hour. You could
go pick it up. Save him the trouble.”

“Alex, my new best friend?” I ask mockingly and Benji grins at
me.

“Yep. He’s everyone’s best friend.” And again the tension in the
room diminishes. “So, what do you think? Have lunch with me?”

“Of course.”

I’d never turn him down.

He hands me the keys to his truck and shoots me a threatening
look. “Take it easy, okay? I watched you back out of my driveway last night.”

“I can walk back and get my own car,” I retort, pretending to be
insulted as I give him a dirty look.

“Just go get our lunch,” he quips back, winking at me before
returning to sanding the table.

I walk into the bar and Alex is nowhere to be seen. There’s a
girl about my age behind the counter and she gives me a quick look and returns back
to what she was doing, before her head springs back up quickly and she greets
me with a smile.

“Hi, sorry about that. I just figured you were one of the
regulars. What can I help you with?” She has a sweet voice, soothing and calm,
and the way she greets me makes me feel as if she doesn’t normally greet
customers like this.

“Hi. I’m here to pick up an order for Benji,” I say and she gives
me a look that says she has no idea what I’m talking about.

Luckily Alex, who comes from the back of the bar, saves me and I
realize I called him Benji, which clearly is no longer the name he uses.

“Campbell,” he says, his voice a mix of playfulness and
questioning. “I didn’t think I’d see you before at least noon.” He looks over
at the girl behind the bar and she raises her eyebrows. “Sorry,” he says, and
looks back over to me. “I guess you’ve met my lovely wife.”

“Not exactly,” I say, and she laughs a little. “Guess her lovely
husband forgot to introduce us.”

“Campbell, this is Annie,” he says, pulling her close and kissing
the top of her head. She’s a tiny little thing with gorgeous blonde hair and
Alex towers over her, making her look even smaller.

“Ah,” she says, her eyes wide. “You’re Campbell.” She looks up
at Alex and he shakes his head almost imperceptibly as if to tell her not to do
what he thinks she’s going to do, and the cynical, private person I’ve become
immediately thinks the worst. After meeting Alex yesterday, obviously Benji has
talked about me. The thought has me worried to the point that my heart begins
to race. How much has he told them? I’ve never told anyone what happened with
us. It’s always been a secret I assumed stayed with all of us. Never to be
spoken of again.

I can tell almost right away that they notice a change in my
demeanor. I can’t help but let my thoughts runaway with what happened nine
years ago. All of it focused on my concern with anyone knowing exactly what
happened and what we did. Would he have told them? Both Kelly and Tommy died
with our secret; we’re all that’s left of this mess.

I can feel their eyes on me and not that I have a reason to turn
defensive, but I still do. “I’m just here to pick up lunch,” I say, my tone
suddenly formal.

“Okay,” Annie says, again looking up at Alex, both with looks on
their faces that seem far too suspecting for me. “I’ll get that for you.” She
disappears and Alex gives me a weak smile.

“Everything alright?” he asks, and it almost feels like he’s
feeling me out to see if I realize what is going on.

“Yeah.”

A few seconds later Annie returns with a large bag and walking
around the bar, she hands it to me.

“Here you go,” she says, smiling at me despite the severe look
on my face.

“Thanks,” I tell her, but it comes across cold.

When I climb into Benji’s truck, I’m immediately pissed off. I
hate the fact that my past has turned me into a paranoid bitch.

It only takes about ten minutes to reach Benji’s shop and by
then, my anger is through the roof and about to be directed at the only person
whom I believe honestly deserves it.

I storm through the door, but Benji’s lost in his work. He doesn’t
see or hear me until I toss the bag of food onto the table in front of him. He
stops what he’s doing and as soon as he sees my face the realization that
something is wrong hits him. He doesn’t even have a chance to ask.

“You fucking told them!” I scream, and the confused look on his
face only adds to my rage. “I can’t fucking believe you!”

I don’t give him time to respond. Leaving him confused and
speechless, I start walking back to his house.

I’m hurt and angry, as tears prick my eyes and run down my
cheeks. The cold air hits me in the face, making my nose run and my tears dry
almost immediately. I don’t care what he has to say. It might have been nine
years ago, but we all agreed to keep everything a secret. I used to think he
was different, that out of all the horrible people in the world, he was
perfect. He was my perfection. But he’s a liar too.