Page 32 of Begin Again

One sip in, and I have to admit—it’s not bad. Hoppier than I usually go for, but smooth.

“Not bad.”

“Not bad?” Bennett scoffs. “That’s top-tier beer, cousin.”

The word lingers between us, heavier than it should be. Family. Blood. A reality I haven’t fully wrapped my head around yet.

Tipping the can toward him, I arch a brow. “So that’s what this is? This is your way to bribe me with pizza and beer to get me to call you cousin?”

Bennett shrugs, taking another sip before shrugging. “If that’s what it takes.”

I shake my head, but I don’t argue. We eat in silence for a bit, and it’s not as awkward as I expected. Maybe it’s the beer, maybe it’s the fact that I was hungry, but I don’t feel the need to fill the space with small talk. Either way, the usual tension between us feels… muted.

After a while, Bennett wipes his hands on a napkin, staring at the beer bottle in his grip. “I know this whole thing is weird. Trust me, it’s weird for me, too.”

The honesty in his voice makes me glance over. “Yeah?”

A slow nod. “I spent my whole life thinking my adoptive parents were my biological ones. They always talked about how hard it was for them to have me. Made me feel like some miracle baby or whatever.” His fingers drum against the bottle. “Neither of them came from a big family. My cousins were all older, and they never really gave a shit about me. Guess I know why now.”

The bitterness in his voice is hard to miss.

“That’s… messed up.” No other way to put it.

A dry chuckle escapes him. “Yeah, well. Can’t say I’m shocked. If they always knew I wasn’t theirs—if that mattered to them—then maybe that’s why they kept their distance.” A pause. Then, quieter, “So, finding out I’ve got another cousin? Someone my age? Someone related to me?” He exhales, rubbing his jaw. “Should be a good thing, right?”

A pit forms in my stomach. I know where this is going.

“But I get here, and you’re not exactly thrilled about it.”

A sigh pushes past my lips as I set my plate down. “It’s not that, Bennett.”

He lifts a brow. “No?”

Rubbing a hand over my face I try to find the words, “I just… I don’t know how to process all of it. You showed up out of nowhere and dropped a huge, life-altering bomb. And now, I keep looking at everyone in town differently, wondering what else I don’t know. And then there’s you.”

Bennett watches me, silent, waiting.

I hesitate, but the words come anyway. “You look like my dad.” The admission sits heavy between us. “Almost exactly like he did at our age.”

A beat of silence.

His expression shifts—tense and unreadable. “Yeah?”

I nod. “We were close. Before he died. And now, I’ve got you here, his twin’s kid, looking like a ghost from the past. And I don’t know how to deal with that.”

An emotion I can’t quite place flickers across his face—understanding, maybe.

“I get it.” His voice is quieter now. “But for what it’s worth, I’m not trying to make things harder for you. I just…” He hesitates, then shrugs. “I just want to know you.”

Didn’t expect that. Not the honesty. Not the simplicity of it. No expectation. No demand. Just the truth.

Picking up my beer I take another sip before nodding toward the box. “Alright. Since you’re so set on this whole ‘getting to know me’ thing, let’s start simple.”

Leaning back he smirks at me. “Oh yeah?”

“Let’s start easy. Everyone has a favorite topping, what’s yours?”

Bennett’s smirk widens like he knows his answer will gross me out. “Sausage and giardiniera.”