That One Night (That One Series Book 1) (4 page)

Thankfully, my mom doesn’t need any help in the kitchen and instead of socializing with the guys, I decide to lay down with Archer for his nap.

The good mood from the visit to the mall only lasts until dinner though. As I come down the stairs, I can already see that Ben has the seat opposite of mine. In that moment, I’m thankful for having started Archer on solid food, which I know will keep me busy since he likes to share his food with everything and everyone that doesn’t run away fast enough.

As we all sit down, my father starts saying grace. Not that I have seen any of them go to church since I can remember, but for the holidays, both my parents suddenly seem to have this deep connection with God. I have a hard time not rolling my eyes, so instead I look around the room. That is until my eyes meet Ben’s. His stare bores through me and it feels like it’s going to crack me open and spill my broken heart onto the table. I quickly break eye contact and look down onto my plate, aware that he’s still looking at me.

Fortunately, as we start eating, everyone else engages in a conversation about football, while I’m busy stuffing my face with roasted potatoes and veggies, at the same time feeding Archer his carrots and peas.

Just when I think that this dinner might be peaceful and relaxed, Ben suddenly addresses me, “So Frankie, you have a baby? How did that happen?”

He stares at me, his lips a strained line and his eyebrows furrowed. Thanks to the pure rage boiling inside of me for him feeling the need to ask such a ridiculous question, I can hold his gaze, while shooting daggers at him with my eyes.

Before I can tell him that they had them on sale at the supermarket, or ask him if he missed that many biology classes, my father pipes up and makes me want to stab myself in the eye with the fork. Or him. I’m not that picky.

“You see, Ben, our daughter thought it would be a good idea to go and get herself pregnant. But that is what happens when you sleep around; you become a single mother and everyone thinks you have loose morals. We don’t even know who fathered our grandson, although we suspect it was her married professor. Not the type of man to bring home to your parents.”

“And we are back on the ‘our daughter is a raging whore’ show. Tonight we present you the same old shit as usual. And just for the fucking record, I know damn well who the father is. I just choose to not disclose that information. But it definitely isn’t my professor.” Harsh words? Maybe. But this is what the constant criticism and insults will do to you.

“How about some manners at the table?” Dad growls, while Dave rolls his eyes. There hasn’t been a peaceful meal in this house since my uterus became home to a little peanut.

My mom ignores both me and my dad. Instead, she joins the conversation lamenting her woes and sorrows to someone that hasn’t heard them before.

“Don’t get me wrong, Ben. We love our grandson. It would have been nice though, if Frankie could have done things a bit more traditionally, and a bit less her way. Archer is such a happy little boy. I guarantee you, you’ll fall in love with him over the weekend. It’s impossible not to. He’s nine months now and he’s the smartest little boy I’ve ever seen.”

“Hey, what about me?” Dave pipes up in mock outrage, but is ignored by everyone at the table.

At my mom’s last comment, I can see the cogs turning in Ben’s head, counting back. His face turns serious and he lowers the fork back to the plate. My heart speeds up and my hands get clammy. I wish there would be a fire alarm I could pull, or an ejector seat would be a nice option as well. Anything to stop this conversation from continuing. I know this isn’t going to end well. And just when I think my mom will shut up and concentrate on chewing her food, she decides to twist the knife she unknowingly stabbed in my back.

“You know, we all missed you so much, Ben. Even Frankie did. I think that’s why she gave Archer your name as the middle name, to always let you be part of the family. We all thought that was such a great idea.”

I recognize the moment when he finally puts two and two together and the truth hits him square in the face. He closes his eyes for a moment before looking straight at me. His face a mask of confusion, pain, anger, and what looks like hope. I, on my part, feel like dying.

I’ve wanted to tell him, and I knew I had to tell him, but this isn’t how it was supposed to go. In that moment I regret that he isn’t some dumb wit with a matching IQ, that I can’t fool him even if I wanted to. I feel cornered, despite everyone else being oblivious to what just transpired. Bile is rising up in my throat as my stomach is turning over with emotions, and my heart is pounding so loud and violently, I can hear the blood rushing in my ears.

My parents and Dave are already engaging in a conversation about the stupid names stars give their children these days. Only Ben and I are silent. I can see so many questions in his eyes and I feel like each one of them burns right through me. I feel the tears pricking at my eyes and can’t take it any longer. I move the chair out a bit too fast, nearly making it fall over. I catch it just in time.

“Excuse me for a moment. Mom, can you watch Archer, please?”

Everyone ignores me, everyone but him. I can feel his stare following me all the way towards the stairs. I enter my old room and lock the door, going straight to the bathroom, where I splash cold water in my face. I feel a bit dizzy with the adrenaline coursing through my system. My heart beats like a crazy drum and I can’t hold back the tears anymore.

Fuck, I should have stayed in Northampton.
I go back into the room and get my cell phone from the nightstand and dial the only number I can in this situation.

“What’s up, my dear?”

“Dean,” I sob into the phone. “He’s here. Ben, he’s here. And he knows.”

There is a moment of silence, before I hear Dean’s voice speak again.

“Shit. This isn’t good. How are you feeling?”

“Like I want to scream, cry, grab my shit and run for dear life.”

“Do you need me to come there?”

“Want yes. But it’s enough that my Thanksgiving is hell. No need for you to be dragged into this drama. I just...I just don’t know what to do. How to behave.”

“But you talked to him already. What did he say?”

“No, he
—
he doesn’t know it officially. I just think he put two and two together when my mom was going off on one of her rants. I...God, Dean, I can’t talk to him. I’m such a mess. I am so angry, so hurt.” I sniffle, trying to get the sobbing under control.

“Oh Frankie, but you knew that this was coming one day. Better today, then ten years from now. Take a moment for yourself and breathe. It’ll be alright. As difficult as it feels, I know you’re strong and can handle this. You’re tough
—
this is just a mere bump in the road, nothing to even slow you down.”             
I let out a shuddering breath, hearing his encouragement and his unwavering faith in me. I sit up a bit straighter, willing the strength he mentioned to the surface.

“If you start singing Jewel’s “Good Day,” I might have to hurt you
—
physically.”

Dean chuckles and the sound gives me a little bit of calm. No matter what happens here, I have him and the others to go back to. They’ll help me pick up the pieces, like they’ve done in the past.

“I love you.” I wipe my tears away with the back of my hand before running it over my jeans to dry it off.

“I love you too. I’m proud of you. And I’m always here for you. Now go, take care of that bump in the road and get your ass back here so we can sit and watch sappy movies while drinking tea. Alex is no good for that. And call me before bed, ok?”

“Ok.”

I lay back on the bed for a few moments until my emotions aren’t on a rampage anymore. I get up, straighten out my clothes and remove the make-up so I don’t look like a panda and then I open my door.

As I’m about to enter the hallway, someone grabs my arm. I don’t need to look to know who it is.

“Not now,” is all I mutter before yanking away my hand.

“Fuck, Frankie, we need to talk,” he sounds angry and desperate at the same time, trying to get a hold of my wrist again. There’s an urgency to his words that makes me pause for a second.

“I can’t. Not now,” my voice trembles and I rush downstairs, leaving him standing in the hallway.

I can’t do this now. I’m holding on by a very thin, frayed thread. And I don’t want to come undone.

For the rest of the night, we all sit around in the living room. Mom plays with Archer, while Dad and Dave talk football. I just sit there staring into space, fearing the conversation that I know will happen sooner or later. I don’t want to show Ben how much he hurt me, but I’m not sure that I’m strong enough not to crumble. The few times that I make the mistake of looking around the room, I notice Ben either watching Archer, or looking at me, and I can tell he’s itching to ask a million questions.

But he isn’t the only one; I have questions of my own to ask. When I tried to ask at some point during dinner where the hell he has been for the past eighteen months, my mother just gave me a disapproving look and chastised me, “What does it matter? He is back and healthy and safe.”

He didn’t feel it necessary to answer himself. Instead he just looked down at his plate, like it is the last question he wants to hear.
Well, that was good and satisfying.

I have another question for him. A few to be exact. And he won’t like any of them. But I’m not sure I’m courageous enough to ask. Why did he leave? Why didn’t he at least say goodbye? Why didn’t that night mean anything to him?

***

People always complain about how their life changes when they have a baby. Not being able to go out to parties and stay out late. I personally don’t mind it at all, especially right now, I’m thankful that it’s Archer’s bedtime.

“Archer, time for bed.”

“I can bring him to bed,” Mom suggests, “Then you can stay downstairs and socialize.”

“No, thanks Mom. He doesn’t always sleep through yet. I’m quite tired too, so I’ll just go to bed myself.”

“Man, I thought the three of us could go out for some beers and have some fun like back in the old days,” Dave jokingly pouts, his eyes giving away his amusement while he looks between Ben and me.

“Sorry, Dave. I really need some sleep. Archer is like a little ball of energy most of the time...crawling everywhere. I feel like I’m working out twelve hours a day. But you and Ben have fun.”

I look at Ben, curious what his reply will be. Before I left for college, he and Dave used to go out every weekend. Often Dave would drag me along or I would invite myself. Ben usually was less than thrilled. Most of the time, I would end up being the designated driver while they drank, or made-out with bimbos, but God forbid I was flirting with anyone. Both of them would suddenly sober up and become super protective.

“Nah man, the bar scene ain’t for me lately. Let’s just play some games here.” Ben looks at me while he’s talking and I can’t help but feel a bit of relief, knowing he won’t be getting into anyone’s pants.
I’m so stupid.

“Wow and I thought Florida was like an old peoples’ home. Then I come back here and realize, compared to you they are the life of the party,” Dave sighs in mock annoyance. “Okay Ben, let’s go and shoot some shit then.”

It takes a while to get Archer to sleep. My mom has kept him so hyped up all day, he needs a while to calm back down. Once he’s asleep, I can head to the shower. For some strange reason, this has always been a safe place for me. I know I can be alone here. No one is going to bother me. I can let go of the control I’m desperately holding onto, can allow my emotions to spill over. I can think
—
undisturbed and unbothered.              

After the shower, I get comfortable in my pajamas and sit in my window nook. As a teenager, I’ve loved having one of those. I remember this was the coolest thing back in the day. Drake actually climbed through that very window a few times—unknowing to my parents, except that one time when my dad caught him.

I snuggle up into the corner, leaning my head back against the wall and just looking into the cold November night. The tree outside my window throws creepy shadows into the room and I have to smile, remembering how I loved it when I was younger. I used to make up all these horror stories in my head, to the point where I was too scared to fall asleep and would sneak into Dave’s room with my quilt and pillow, making myself comfortable on his bean bag.

I try to keep certain other memories at bay, but I can’t help it. And it doesn’t take long until I’m right back here in my parents’ house eighteen months ago—that one night in May.

One of my friends from high school had gotten engaged, and together with a few others, we decided it should be celebrated. All of us agreed to meet back home. Dean wanted to visit his family anyway, so we decided to drive back to Michigan. I knew my parents were away that weekend, but since I didn’t plan to spend much time at home, it wasn’t like I was missing out on any family time. Dave was living with our parents, but I didn’t expect to see much of him. He’d usually spend his evenings charming the panties off of college girls.

I had just walked through the door from the night out celebrating with the girls, when I noticed Ben sitting on our couch. He’d had a key to our house for years. My parents took a liking to him the first time he and Dave played together as toddlers. Since then, my brother and Ben had been inseparable. He was more at home in our house than in his own, with both his parents working odd and long hours at the bed and breakfast they owned.

When I saw him sitting on the couch and really looked at him, I realized that he looked absolutely broken. Pain, confusion, and despair were etched onto his otherwise handsome face. And if that wouldn’t have given away that something was utterly wrong, him playing my parents old LPs while holding onto a whiskey bottle like it was a lifeline, would have done the job. I walked up to him and sat down on the couch next to him. When he looked up, there was an empty expression in his eyes. I had never seen them like that. His eyes normally told you what he thought or felt, even before he opened that big mouth of his. I placed my hand on his shoulder.

“
Hey, what’s wrong?” He didn’t even look up, but took a swig out of the whiskey bottle instead.

“
My life—that’s what’s wrong.” His voice sounded deflated. Resigned.

“
What happened? You wanna talk about it?”

“
Everything is a fucking lie. All my life, everyone in it—it’s all a lie.”

I didn’t understand what he was saying. Was it some new girlfriend that cheated on him, lied to him? It seemed more serious, more destructive. It was as if whatever he was carrying was weighing him down.

“
I’m not sure what you mean. But that isn’t true. My parents adore you. My brother thinks you’re the shit. Whatever it’s worth, what you get here, with us, is real.”

He looked up at me, into my eyes and it seemed like he was weighing the truthfulness of my words.

“
We care about you. And I know you don’t like me very much, but I care about you, too. And that’s real,” I continued.

At that, he seemed to lose a bit of the haze that had clouded his eyes and looked at me a little puzzled.

“
I never said that I don’t like you.”

“Nothing you had to say. It’s always been quite clear, but that’s beside the point right now.”

And I really had the feeling he didn’t like me all that much. When Dave wanted to take me along on their nights out, Ben never had a good word to say about it. And when I did tag along, he always treated me with as much disdain or mockery as possible.

“
That’s bullshit. It’s not that I don’t like you. It’s…,” he paused, and it didn’t seem like he was going to say anything else. It felt awkward and I didn’t want to put him on the spot. I mean, he wasn’t obligated to like me just because he was friends with my brother. The crush I had on him since I could remember was solely my problem. I was aware it would never be reciprocated.

I decided to let him off the hook and started getting off the couch. “I’ll fix us something to eat. If you plan to drink all that whiskey, you’ll need something in your stomach,” I smiled, hoping to lighten the mood a bit, still none-the-wiser about what had caused it in the first place.

But just before I was fully standing, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me back down next to him. Only now, I was somehow closer.

I could feel his breath on my face as he whispered,
“
It’s not that I don’t like you. It’s quite the opposite.”

I was about to open my mouth to say something, mainly to ask him what the fuck he was talking about, while at the same time feeling my knees getting weak and my mouth getting dry, but he continued, not letting me speak.

“
You’re my best friend’s younger sister. And you think I’m an asshole.”

I wanted to ask him what he meant, but forgot how to form words or even whole sentences. Or that I could speak at all. I forgot to breathe or blink. I think my heart might have stopped for a minute. The only thing my attention was focused on was his face coming closer. The next thing I knew was the feeling of his lips on mine, at first slow and gentle. Teasing, testing the waters. But damn, there was nothing to test. This was the moment I’d had many dreams about—day and night. I willingly opened my mouth to him and nearly lost all coherent thoughts when I felt his tongue slide into my mouth.

I’d been kissed before. Hell, I was no virgin. I wasn’t a slut either, but by no means an innocent girl. But this felt like a first kiss all over. I was worried I was going to faint from the excitement. I kissed him back; with all the pent up feelings I had for him. Our tongues were tangled in a sexy little dance, and I could feel it all the way down to my center. It felt like someone set my panties on fire. It was in that moment that I knew I needed more of him.

As if reading my mind, his hand let go of my wrist, moving up my arm and to my neck. He moved my hair to the side and started kissing and licking along my jaw and down my neck. The top with the Carmen neckline I was wearing for the night out gave him easy access and he continued his way down my collarbone—his mouth gently teasing my skin. I was gasping, moaning, and swearing—all in the same breath. When he pulled down my shirt and bra and continued his delicious attack on my breast, I thought I would come right then and there.

“
Fuck, you taste so good,” he moaned right before sucking my nipple into his mouth. My back arched, I made sounds like a woman possessed and I think most of my brain went on vacation, while my lower parts decided to have a party.

At this point, we were lying on the couch, his body on top of mine nestled between my legs, holding himself up with one arm. I could feel every inch of him and there definitely were a few inches to feel. He turned his attention to my other nipple. Groaning, he looked up at me through hooded, dark brown eyes and his stare turned me on even more.

Now mixed with the pain from earlier, was desire, heat, and longing. The look in his eyes was so potent, it didn’t just affect my libido, but also my heart. He tore a piece off of it right then and there and I could feel it happening.

But he didn’t give me much time to think about it when he helped me out of my top and bra, pulling his own shirt over his head as well, exposing a well-toned but not over-trained body with a fair amount of hair sprinkled over his chest and down from his bellybutton, disappearing into his pants. Somewhere between his assault on my breasts and him undressing, I had started panting. I couldn’t stop looking at him, wanted to touch and taste him. Not that I’d never seen him topless before, but this was different—this was a whole other world and I was lost in it.

I wanted to sit up, to kiss and lick what looked so good but he didn’t give me a chance, instead, he moved lower, pulling off my knee-high Chucks and following it up with the skirt. Now I was laying there in just my lace boy cut panties. He looked me up and down and I might have felt self-conscious, but the look in his eyes told me he liked what he saw. If I would have been capable of forming coherent thoughts, I would have thanked the stars for my good genes. I was blessed with some decent sized boobs, hips, and ass, and a fairly flat stomach—when I wasn’t indulging in donuts.

He kicked of his own Converse sneakers and opened the zipper of his jeans. My mouth went dry—partly from anticipation, partly from excitement, and a good amount of nervousness. He pulled his jeans down and revealed black and blue striped boxer briefs. The erection he was sporting was impressive. While I was lying there, I couldn’t help it; my hand wandered down my breast and stomach and into the front of my panties. I needed to touch myself. He made me feel like I was on fire. His gaze followed my hand and he let out a growl.

“Fuck, you’re gonna kill me.”

He moved his body back over mine, kissing me gently before moving down my body again, leaving a trail of kisses, licks, and gentle nips down my stomach, before kissing my folds through my panties. I bucked my hips like a wild woman.

“God, Ben...please.” I wasn’t sure what I was begging him for—to stop, as I was scared I might explode, or to never stop again.

He grinned up at me and cocked an eyebrow. “Please what?”

Bastard. But I couldn’t help it. There was no room for modesty, or manners. All there was was him and me, and all I needed was to feel him.

“
Please, just fuck me. I need to feel you inside of me.”

This was all it took. Next thing I knew was my underwear being ripped off, his being pulled down and him hovering over my body. “You have no idea how often I imagined to hear you say that to me.”

I would have loved to give him a smart-ass retort, but speaking wasn’t high on my list of priorities at the moment. I could feel him rubbing his cock along my folds, hitting my clit occasionally. It was the sweetest form of torture. Slow, sensual, intense.

I moved my hips up to meet his, to encourage him. I was nearly delirious from desire and need.

He leaned back down, bringing his mouth to mine. Kissing me slowly, before slipping his tongue into my mouth, and while our tongues engaged in a sensual dance, I could feel him just as slowly entering me. Everything else ceased to exist. There was only us. This moment.

We both moaned in unison as the sensation of him inside of me, and me wrapped around him, hit us. For a moment, we stopped moving. Then his hips started to move at a tortuously slow rhythm, making me gasp from sensory overload. I hooked my legs around his hips, bringing us closer.

“
Fuck, baby,” was all he managed to grind out. Our kiss became wilder and rougher, and so did his thrusts. I was making noises like I’d never made before. His right hand moved down to my breast, kneading it and pinching my nipple. My hands were gripping his short hair, holding onto him like a lifeline while I could feel myself getting closer and closer to the peak.

“
God, Ben, I’m gonna come...I’m so close,” I moaned into his mouth. He groaned and started pounding me harder, doing things with his hips no human should be capable of.

“
Fuck, baby, come for me,” he moaned into my ear, before nibbling the sensitive spot behind it. That was all it took to make me tumble over the edge. I started convulsing under him, my muscles clenching around his cock. I was writhing and moaning, my words not making any sense. I could sense his body tensing up, before he let out a groan and shuddered in my arms. Both of us panting, he grabbed me around the waist and flipped us over, so I was lying on top of him, my head resting on his chest. We were silent for a long time, listening to Bill Withers “Ain’t No Sunshine.” He drew slow and lazy circles with his fingertips on my shoulder, making me quietly moan again. I could feel myself starting to drift off to sleep, feeling absolutely content and happy in his arms. Despite having so many questions about what he had talked about earlier, about where this night puts us, I just wanted to enjoy the moment. I didn’t want to ruin it with conversations. And he seemed to agree with me as he just lay there holding me tightly. Sleep started to come over me and made my tongue loosen up. Without even realizing it
,
instead of thinking it, I told him what I had felt for years and what was crystal clear after that night.

“
I love you, Ben.”

With that, I drifted off to sleep. I could have sworn I felt him tense up at my words, but I don’t think I was willing to acknowledge what it could mean.