November 9

by

Benton James Kessler

I stare at the sheet for several seconds. Long enough to wage a full-on war with my conscience.

I shouldn’t read this. I should put it back.

But I have a right to read it. I think. I mean, it’s about my relationship with Ben. And I know he said he didn’t want me to read it until it was finished, but now that he’s no longer writing it, surely that cancels out his one and only rule.

I still haven’t decided what to do when I take the entire manuscript off the shelf. I’ll take it to the kitchen. I’ll get something to eat. And then I’ll decide what to do with it.

I flip off the light switch and slowly open the closet door. Ben is in the same position, breathing heavily, on the verge of what could be considered a snore.

I walk out of his bedroom and into his kitchen.

I carefully place the manuscript on the table in front of me. I don’t know why my hands are shaking. Maybe because his true thoughts about me and us and everything we’ve been through is all right here in front of me. And what if I don’t like his truth? People have a right to privacy, and what I’m about to do is violating every bit of his privacy. It’s not a good way to start out a relationship.

What if I just read one scene? Just a couple of pages and then I’ll put it back and he’ll never know.

I already know what I want to read about. Since the moment it happened, it’s been eating at me.

I want to know why Kyle punched him in the hallway during our second year together. It had nothing to do with me, so that should be a safe enough scene to read without feeling too guilty about it afterward.

I do my best to flip through the manuscript without absorbing any of the sentences. Ben makes it easy to find, considering he’s divided up the chapters by his age. The fight happened the second year we were together, so I find the chapter labeled, “Age Nineteen” and I pull it in front of me. I skip through his internal dialogue while he waited at the restaurant for me to show up. Hopefully one day he’ll let me read this, because I’m dying to know his true thoughts. But I refuse to read all of it. Compromising with my guilt by just reading a few pages still makes me feel like shit. I can imagine how I’d feel if I read the entire thing.

My eyes skim over the page until I see Kyle’s name. I pull the page in front of me and begin reading in the middle of a paragraph.

“Everything will be fine, Jordyn. I promise.”

The front door opens and she looks up. I can see by the excitement in her eyes that it’s more than likely Kyle.

My stomach turns from the nerves that have just become heavier than rocks. Fuck. He said he wouldn’t be home until after seven tonight.

“Is that Kyle?” I ask Jordyn.

She nods, pushing past me. “He took off early to help me,” she says, walking to the sink. She grabs a napkin and dabs at her eyes. “Tell him I’ll be right out. I don’t want him to know how much I’ve been crying today, I feel like such a spaz.”

Shit.

Maybe he won’t remember. It’s been so long now and we’ve never talked about it. I take a deep breath and head back into the living room, trying to hide the panic. He can’t ruin this for me.

“All is well with Jordyn,” I say as I reenter the living room, hoping to play off my nerves. I stop short when I see him, because the look on his face lets me know he definitely remembers. And he’s pissed.

Kyle’s jaw hardens. He tosses his keys onto the entry table and points at me. “We need to talk.”

At least he’s pulling me away from Fallon to discuss it. That’s a relief. It doesn’t look like he’ll be saying anything in front of her. I can deal with him in private, that’s not an issue. I can fight my way out of the shit I’ve gotten myself into, but the last thing I want is for Fallon to be brought into it.

I smile at Fallon because I can tell by the look on her face that she’s aware something is off with Kyle. I want to reassure her that everything is okay, even though it’s so far from it. “Be right back.” She nods, so I follow Kyle down the hallway. He stops just outside his bedroom door.

He points in the direction of the living room. “Can you please explain to me what the fuck is happening?”

I glance back to the living room, wondering how I can possibly talk my way out of this. But I know there’s nothing he’ll believe other than the truth.

I put my hands on my hips and look down at the floor. The disappointment in his eyes is hard to see. “We’re friends,” I tell him. “I met her last year. At a restaurant.”

Kyle releases a disbelieving laugh. “Friends?” he says. “Because Ian just introduced her as your fucking girlfriend, Ben.”

Shit.

I do what I can to diffuse his temper. I’ve never seen him this angry. “I swear, it’s not like that. I just . . .” Dammit, this is so fucked up. I throw my hands up in defeat. “I like her, okay? I can’t help it. It’s not like that’s what I set out to do.”

Kyle looks away, running his hands down his face in frustration. When he turns around again, I’m not prepared for what happens. He pushes me, hard, and I slam into the wall behind me. His hands are pressed against my shoulders and he’s pinning me against the wall. “Does she know, Ben? Does she have any idea that you’re the one who started that fire? That you’re the reason she almost died?”

I feel my jaw tighten. He can’t do this. Not today. Not to her. “Shut up,” I say through clenched teeth. “Please. She’s in the other room, for Christ’s sake!” I try to push him off me, but he shoves his arm against my throat.