That One Night (That One Series Book 1) (14 page)

She looks up at me with a confused look on her face.

“I thought only soldiers had that?”

“No. Anyone experiencing a traumatic event, from domestic abuse, combat, to the loss of a loved one, can develop PTSD. One of the symptoms is called survivor’s guilt. With the loss you experienced it’s not surprising. But there are therapies that can help you, behavioral therapy, medication, or even meditation. There are a number of things that can be done to help.”

She starts shaking her head. “I don’t know...I don’t think I want help.”

“Anna. It’s okay to feel like this right now. But it’s also okay to feel better—to want to feel better. Your boyfriend and daughter, they loved you. They wouldn’t want you to be unhappy, to suffer. Please, let us help you. Let us find you a treatment center for PTSD. Please?” I’m not above begging, since I know if this woman doesn’t allow us to help her she might not make it through the holidays. I feel panic rise in my chest when I witness the internal struggle that is written all over her face.

When she finally nods her head, I release the breath I’ve been holding.

“Okay, let me go get my boss. He has some good contacts and might be able to get you into a program tonight. Please, stay here.”

I rush out of the office and get my boss, Professor Winston, who magically manages to find a place for Anna in a good program that isn’t far away. We arrange transportation for her that’ll take her to her place to pack and then straight to the retreat. When I see her to the car, I give her a hug before she gets in. “Stay strong, Anna.” She hesitantly returns the hug and then she is gone.

I go back to my office and slump in my chair. After taking a few deep breaths, I get my phone out of the drawer, dialing Ben’s number.

He picks up after the fourth ring, sounding out of breath.

“What’s up, babe?”

“You and Archer okay?” My voice sounds choked and hoarse even to my own ears.

“Yeah, we’re having a crawling race over your yoga pillows. He’s quite fast, aren’t you, you little pooper?” I hear Ben growling at Archer, which in turn makes him giggle.

My lip trembles and I have to fight back tears. Talking to Anna, reading about her boyfriend and her daughter, it all just hit too close to home. I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t know how she keeps going.

“Ben, I’m glad you’re back. Be careful, okay? I couldn’t stand anything happening to you or Archer.”

“What happened, babe? Something wrong?”

I shake my head in the hopes of ridding myself of the gloomy thoughts that are invading my mind.

“Nothing. Just a difficult case. Don’t worry.”

“Okay. I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah.”

I hang up my phone, thankful for Prof. Winston’s decision to take me off cases for the rest of my shift. Instead, I get to sort files and flyers. I can do that. The task is perfectly mundane and allows me to let my mind process the past hour. It doesn’t stop him from checking up on me regularly, nearly driving me insane with it until I kick him out of the file room. I don’t want to talk to him right now. There are too many thoughts running through my head and more emotions than I know how to handle. No matter how much I try to fight letting Ben in so I don’t get hurt, Anna has made me realize that I also couldn’t let him go. I guess I have never actually let him go, regardless of how much I tried to convince myself of that during the last eighteen months.

When my shift is over, I walk outside and remember my plan from this morning. I get into my car, needing some music to pick me up, to chase the ghosts of Anna’s boyfriend and her daughter away.

I skip a few songs, until I get to what I’m looking for and release a breath when the first tunes of Dismantle’s “More Rock’n’Roll” start playing. Turning up the volume, I make my way to the closest thrift store, singing along until my throat hurts, remembering the times Ben, Dave, and I went to one of their shows in and around Detroit.

I end up having to go to three thrift stores before I find what I’m looking for and for a price that is affordable. Feeling satisfied, I make my way home. When I enter the house, Ben and Archer are nowhere to be seen, while Dean and Viv are sitting on the couch, discussing feminism in modern media. I roll my eyes at the recurrent topic.

“Hey guys, where is Ben?”

“Over at Mrs. Walsh’s. She needed his talented hands for something. He took Archer along with him,” Viv pipes up, snorting at her own comment about Ben’s hands. Apparently, this joke won’t be getting old anytime soon.

“Perfect, can one of you help me get something upstairs to his room?”

“Explosives?” Dean asks me with a grin.

“No, you butthead. Come on and help me, before he gets back. Please. Pretty please?” I bat my eyes at him.

Dean trots over to me, the lack of enthusiasm evident in each step he takes. He grabs his jacket and stepping outside, he zips it up.

“God, it’s cold. I feel like my balls are going to freeze off any minute.”

“Then stop talking and start walking,” I quip, earning a glare from him.

We wrestle the surprise out of my car, nearly maiming ourselves in the process. After getting all the pieces upstairs to Ben’s room, Dean looks at me and at the pieces leaning against Ben’s bed.

“Is this a crib?”

“Uh huh,” I say, while getting to work putting it together. They had to dismantle it in the store in order to fit it into the trunk of my car.

“You know Ben might be a bit old and too big for it, right?”

“Smartass. Want to help me or just stand around cracking witty jokes?”

“I won’t get an explanation right now anyways, will I?” Shaking my head, I ruffle his hair before getting back to work. Ten minutes later, a beautiful crib made out of dark wood is standing in the middle of Ben’s room.

“Shit, I forgot the mattress in the car.” I run past Dean and down the stairs, nearly colliding with Ben and Archer at the door.

“Whoa. Where’s the fire?” Ben says, holding me upright with one arm, as my momentum and the sudden stop nearly caused me to topple over.

“Forgot something in the car. You have to stay downstairs for a few more minutes. No going up to your room. Okay?” I walk past him and Archer, then walk back, giving Archer a kiss and Ben a smile and a hello. Then I jog out to the car, ignoring Ben yelling after me.

“Are you installing a sex swing in my room? That’s too kind of you.”

Two minutes later, I carry the mattress upstairs, ignoring Ben who’s taking Archer’s winter jacket and hat off, looking at me like I’ve grown a second head.

Dean is still standing where I left him, no doubt waiting for an explanation.

Instead of giving him one, I place the brand-new mattress in the crib and yell downstairs. “You can come now.” Upon hearing Dean’s chuckle, I quickly correct myself. “Up. You can come up now.”

Ben appears with Archer in his arms in the doorway, giving me a lazy grin. “Damn.” He draws out the word, before adding, “And I already got my hopes up.”

Before I can answer though, he notices the crib in his room.

“You know, I’m too big for that, right.”

I throw my hands up in the air in exasperation.

“What is it with you men and smartass comments? Yes, I know. It’s not for you. Not directly, at least. It’s for Archer, for when you want him to sleep in your room. You shouldn’t always have to come into my room or ask for permission if you want to hold him or be close to him. That way, there is the possibility for him to sleep in here with you. I don’t want you to feel like you’re intruding, like you don’t have the same rights as I do.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Dean retreat with a grin, while I still focus my attention on Ben. He looks at me for a moment, before he sets Archer down in his new crib. “Do you like it, little man?” Ruffling Archer’s curly hair, he stands back up and walks over to me, wrapping me up in his arms. Kissing the top of my head, he clears his throat.

“You don’t want me in your room anymore, babe?”

“That’s not what I meant. I mean, you’re welcome in my room anytime.”
Oh, I didn’t just say that.
“I mean…to look after Archer. I just thought you might want to have the option to have him around you all night.” I notice his body shaking slightly with laughter at my stuttered explanation.
Great, just great.
 

“So I guess that means you want me to stick around then, huh?”

Well, fuck, I guess I didn’t consider the implications of my actions.
I attempt to say something but apparently I have forgotten how to speak as my mouth opens and closes a few times without a word coming out. Now it’s my turn to clear my throat. 

“I mean, we have the room here, and you and Archer have found a routine that works for both of you. I thought it’d be easier. But if you want to look for a place of your own, we can figure things out.” I attempt to sound nonchalantly, like the idea of him moving out doesn’t make me ache.

“Thank you. That’s a great idea. I love it. Especially now that you’re starting to wean him it’ll be easier to do. It’s perfect.”

I listen to his words, while inhaling his scent. It’s all man, a bit of sweat from his work mixed with a fresh, woodsy smell. I could stay like that forever, feeling safe and protected in his arms. It feels like coming home.

“You alright down there?” He asks after a few moments, and I can hear the amusement in his voice.

“Yeah, I’m just glad you like it.”

He lets go off me and I have to shake off the sudden feeling of loss, so I focus on him and Archer, watching as he bends over the crib.

“So, little man, what do you think of a sleepover tonight? Sounds good. Yeah, I thought so,” he says when Archer smiles up at him. I laugh, thankful for what I have. Thankful for knowing they are safe and sound. Thankful, I don’t have to go through what Anna is going through.

As I’m about to close the door behind me, Ben’s voice stops me.

“Babe, sooner or later you’ll want me in your room. Trust me.”

It’s early in the morning when I wake up, the sun just starting to rise on the horizon. Birds are chirping outside when I make my way downstairs. Judging by the silence in the house, I’m guessing everyone is still asleep. And since Archer is sleeping in Ben’s room, I get to enjoy the peace and quiet of the early morning. I make myself a cup of tea and inhaling the scent of freshly brewed peppermint I sit down at the kitchen counter.

My eyes fall onto yesterday’s newspaper folded up on the counter. I guess Alex or Dean must have left it here. I unfold it, deciding it might not be a bad idea to catch up on current events, but as I skim over articles depicting racism, violence and bigotry, I remember why I don’t read the newspaper. I turn the page and the headline catches my attention. “Tragic Accident Kills Father and Baby.” I’m surprised to find an article about Anna in yesterday’s edition of the newspaper. The accident happened too long ago. But I keep on reading. “Young father with his son on the way to pick up girlfriend from her shopping trip gets hit by a semi-truck. Both occupants die on impact. Benjamin Gibson and his son Archer were driving down….” I can’t read any further than that as everything around me starts to blur. A choked sob escapes my lips. Clutching my hand to my chest, I start shaking my head, not willing to believe what I’m reading. The words and letters start to swim as my eyes fill with tears.

I wake up, terror coursing through my veins. My hands are clenched around the comforter, and tears are streaming down my face.
It was just a dream. Calm down, just a bad dream.
I tell myself this over and over again until it finally starts to sink in. But then I realize how quiet it is in the room. Too quiet. I don’t hear Archer’s tiny breaths that usually keep me company through the night. I dash out of the bed to the crib, scared of what awaits me, only to find it empty. Just then it dawns on me he’s staying in Ben’s room tonight.

I change into a camisole that isn’t drenched with sweat and climb back into bed, my nerves completely shot. My heart aches for Anna and what she’s going through. Her story has affected me more than I thought, reducing me to an emotional mess.

After staring at the ceiling for what seems like hours, I finally fall back asleep only to have the same dream repeat itself. Once more, I wake up with a pounding heart and tears streaming down my face. It takes me a few minutes to separate dream and reality.

I refuse to fall asleep again; afraid this nightmare will come back. I kick back the comforter and get out of bed and into the bathroom. I splash some cold water into my face, trying to wash away the lingering unease the dream has caused.

I shuffle downstairs, making sure there are no newspapers laying around on the kitchen counter, before I make myself a cup of tea and grab some photo albums of Archer. Looking through them, I can’t help but smile. He looked like a little monkey when he was born, dark hair nearly all over his face. Only two days after his birth, the hair disappeared, leaving a chubby cheeked face behind. I keep staring at the photo, thanking the universe for being this lucky.

A couple pages in, I hear someone on the stairs. I turn around and see it’s Ben in nothing more than sweatpants hanging low on his hips and a baby phone in his hand. I will my eyes back to the photo album and away from his junk as he walks over.

“What are you doing up?” He plops down on the couch next to me.

“Couldn’t sleep. Kept on waking up listening for Archer, nearly getting a heart attack before I realized he’s in your room. It’s going to take a while for me to get used to.” I don’t mention Anna, not only because of the confidentiality I’m obligated to, but also because I don’t want to think about it anymore.

“So you’re looking through photo albums?”

“Yeah, want to join me?”

“Sure, sleep is for losers.”

I smile. “Why are you up then?”

He pokes me in the side, making me squeal.

“Heard you shuffle down here; thought I make sure you’re okay.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.” I hope he doesn’t see how much his concern for me affects me; how my heart is turning into a gooey mess. I know I shouldn’t let him in, not with the secrets, not with the phone calls, but it’s a damn battle that my head seems to be losing.

I open the album back up to the monkey picture of Archer.

“He’s got all that hair from you.” I playfully nudge Ben in the ribs with my elbow.

“Hell no, you think I forgot your hairy toes?”

I groan in exasperation. I mean, seriously, after all the time he still remembers that. Dave pointed it out when I was thirteen and they made fun of me all summer, calling me a hobbit or a monkey because not only were my toes hairy, but I could pick up things with my feet with ease. I’ve shaved my toes ever since.

“Oh, shut up.”

“Will do, little hobbit.” He’s sitting so close that I can feel his body shaking with the laughter he’s trying to suppress. I can’t help but laugh along, even if it’s at my own expense.

There are pictures of Archer’s birth, not close-up-right-where-the-action-was pictures, but pictures of me and him once he was out. I’d wanted that moment documented and it wasn’t hard to find photography students for this job.

“Was it bad?” Ben’s looking at the picture with a mix of awe and embarrassment.

“The birth?”

“Hmmm....”

“Oh yeah. I mean, I tried meditation, aromatherapy, and all that. And sure, it calmed me down and helped me relax. But when you’re trying to squeeze a melon through a keyhole, it’s going to hurt no matter what. And the bullshit they tell you about forgetting it once the kid is there....oh no, I still know very well what happened. But looking at Archer, it was worth it.”

Ben chuckles at my diplomatic answer before he gets more serious.

“Sorry I wasn’t there to support you.”

“You didn’t know. And actually, I’m okay with it. The miracle of giving birth is not sexy in the least.”

“I still would have loved to be there.”

I pat his thigh. “We can’t change the past, Ben. You’re here now. That’s important.”

We flip through the pages, Ben asking questions and me telling him stories about Archer’s first nine months. That is until we get to the Halloween pictures.

“You didn’t?!?!” Ben’s tone is slightly accusative.

“What? He looks totally cute.”

“You dressed him up as a Minion? Seriously?” He makes a pained noise and follows it up by a similarly pained look.

“Oh, come on. Look at him. He looked totally adorable.” Not to mention I love the
Despicable Me
movies, so it was a no-brainer to dress Archer as a minion for Halloween.

“A Minion? It’s just as well I’m here now to protect him from your escapades.”

I look away sheepishly, trying to hide a smile.

“What’s with the smile?”

“Nothing. Just.....next Halloween I want to dress him up as a purple Minion.” I give Ben a pleading look.

“Hell no! Not happening. Our son will need therapy at this rate.”

“Well, by then I’ll be qualified, so we won’t have to spend any money on it.”

We’re interrupted by Archer’s tiny voice coming through the baby monitor, alerting us that he’s awake and requesting our attention.

Ben gets up to go upstairs, but not before turning around and pointing his finger at me.

“This discussion is far from over.”

I just stick out my tongue at him, laughing when he walks up the stairs shaking his head, mumbling “a Minion” repeatedly with an exasperated sigh.