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No. This perfect man - monster, whatever - did not leave me to find the guy I was freaking out about. After I tried to beat him up over it. Who does that? What kind of nice guy bullshit is this? Fuck him for being so perfect. For real. I feel tears welling up, and I’m trying to force them down.

“Ben?” I can’t help the wobble in my voice.

“Yes?” He comes through the door with a curious yet hesitant head tilt.

“Come here,” I point to the floor in front of me and lower my head.

He stands where I indicated, shoulders back, without a question.

I throw myself at him, climbing him like a tree until my legs are wrapped around his hips, arms clamping around his neck to bury my face there.

I don’t have the words to tell him how much it means to me, and I doubt I ever will, so I settle on a whiney, “Yes, please.”

12. Bury a Friend

I leave my face buried into his shoulder as he carries me without question. His scent is stronger here, so I get a full dose of comforting vetiver instead of the measly scraps from his clothes. I might become an addict, I won’t lie.

I feel a chill pass over my skin as he murmurs thanks to Scilla and steps up. What is he doing? There aren’t any stairs in his room, yet we’re traveling up.

The room’s temperature changes to become cooler, and I hear the hum of air conditioning where before there was silence.

Ben removes the arm under my butt, removing the support for my weak legs, and they drop down towards the floor. He’s tall enough that my toes don’t touch down, and I dangle there, refusing to let go of his neck. He doesn’t take the other arm from around my shoulders and nuzzles into the side of my head.

“We’re home.”

“Home? I thought we were already home?”

Wait, as I think about that, why would Ben ever invite his Mother to his place? I doubt he’s even told her where it is. That also explains all the posters on the walls.Awww, Ben was an angsty teen at some point. He still is kind of an angsty teen. Angsty adult?

“Nah. I figured it was safer elsewhere,” he mutters and leans down until my feet flatten on the cold hardwood floor. His hand slides across my shoulders, stroking down my good arm to grasp my elbow. “We have company.”

I lean back to frown at him, then turn in a rush. My legs try to give out mid-turn, and I grab Ben’s arm as he thrusts them out in case I fall.

Mitri is standing directly in front of me, completely unharmed, hands loose at his sides and palms on his guns. Both of them. He has them both. He’s only a few feet away, staring at me with his cold intensity.

“Beatrice,” his tone is just as flat as ever as he holds out one hand to me. I don’t think he’s ever said my name before.

My heart does a weird little squeeze that’s painful and pleasant at the same time. I stumble on my way to him, not bothering to play it cool as I rush. I skip past his extended hand and throw my good arm around him as my chest hits him. It's not a smart move, really, becauseit hurts!

I’m not expecting him to hug me back. That’s definitely not Mitri’s style. As soon as my arm is around him, I clutch a fistful of his jacket and hold on, hoping he won’t pull away from me. As soon as my head settles on his chest, I hear his heartbeat, steadily drumming without a care.

Holding Ben makes me feel like I’m on a lazy raft, drifting downstream easily with no trouble on the horizon. Holding Mitri is like clutching a boulder in a roaring river and hoping you don’t lose your grip. The boulder isn’t going to move for you or the rapids around it.

The hand he extended draws back, and he palms the back of my neck as he leans down to put his mouth next to my ear.

“Put it back,dorogoya,” he whispers in a rush of warm air that makes me shiver.

He’s right. I still can’t feel him, although holding him makes me feel much better about that fact. I peek in on the spark and prod it a bit.

A little help, please?

It flickers for a second and sputters before settling back into place. It’s still burned out, and I have no idea how to fix this myself.

“I can’t,” I whisper back. “I’m too weak right now.”

I hate admitting it. It’s not like it isn’t obvious with the bruising and swelling, but saying it aloud makes me cringe.

His fingers shift against the short hair there, and he takes a deep breath. “You will fix it.”