Page 38 of Resisting the Temptation (Broken Shelves #3)

Emma

I appreciate Enzo telling me to take the day off, but without the distraction of work, I don’t know how to stop the sadness from consuming me.

I haven’t stopped crying since I left work, and if I can’t stop, I don’t know how I’m supposed to make the eleven-hour drive. When Jordan comes with me, we split the driving so we’re able to make it all in one day, but with how I’m feeling, I don’t think I should try it by myself.

If I leave tonight, I could stop in Vegas and break it up into two days instead of driving straight through… That would be easier than trying to do it all in one day.

I wish Jordan could come with me. Hannah already texted to tell me I was welcome to stay with her if I didn’t want to stay with my parents, which would upset my mom.

I don’t know if I can handle four days of my mother’s belittling on top of the grief and dealing with the rest of my family.

I told Hannah I’d just get a hotel. Her babies are almost ten months old, and I don’t want to add to her plate.

Times like these, I wish I had a significant other to come with me as a buffer. To have someone to lean on instead of having to stand strong all alone.

I hate being around my family. I hate funerals. Being able to hold someone’s hand and lean on them when I’m forced into these situations would make them more bearable.

But I made the choice to not be serious with someone—to not let anyone in. I have to live with the decision. It’s not someone else’s responsibility to help me carry my emotions. It’s mine alone.

I’m in the middle of packing when there’s a knock on the door. Must be a package for Jordan. They’re in sessions today, so I’ll just let the delivery person leave the package on the porch.

A minute later, there’s another knock, and my phone buzzes with a text.

Ben: Open up, honey. I know you’re here because your car is in the driveway.

Why the hell is Ben here?

I pad out of my room and open the front door. Sure enough, the bane of my existence and object of all my fantasies is standing in front of me wearing a Rossi Construction polo and jeans that hug his thighs.

Why does he have to be so handsome?

Ben’s brows are furrowed as he takes in my appearance. I’ve changed into comfy hot pink leggings and an oversized threadbare T-shirt with a logo of a band I’ve never heard of. I never put on makeup today. My eyes are puffy, and my nose is red from crying.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice smaller than I want it to be.

“I’m here to take you to Utah.”

“How did you— Enzo .” I pinch my nose. “I don’t need you to take me to Utah. I’m a big girl. I can go alone and handle myself just fine.”

Ben steps toward me, and I step back. We follow this pattern until he’s inside the house. He shuts the front door with his foot and stands chest to chest with me, a determined expression on his face.

“This isn’t about you not being able to handle yourself. It’s about you not needing to do it alone. I’m sorry about your grandpa, Emma. I can’t imagine what you must be feeling, but I can’t just sit here while you suffer eight hours away. I won’t let you go through this by yourself.”

“Eleven,” I murmur, blinking back tears.

“What?”

“It’s eleven hours away. Not eight.”

Ben gives me a half smile. “Then I’m for sure not letting you drive eleven hours alone.”

I don’t want to lean on Ben because when our agreement ends, I’ll have to deal with it alone. When another tragedy inevitably happens in my life, I won’t have him to rely on to help keep me steady.

Besides, having him meet my family sounds serious . I haven’t brought anyone I’ve dated back to meet my family because they’re so judgmental and rude. Their opinion on who I’m dating doesn’t matter to me, so why would I subject them or myself to unnecessary ridicule.

Ben taps my forehead gently. “I can feel you thinking. Tell me why you don’t want me to come.”

“Because we aren’t together. Because my family is… a lot, and I don’t want to field questions about who you are. Because you have to work, and you shouldn’t be burdened with taxiing me around and dealing with me because I cry a lot when I’m sad.”

Ben frowns. “Okay, one thing at a time. First, we can say we’re dating even if we aren’t.”

I scoff, “We can’t do that. Hannah already used the fake dating trope.”

Ben’s frown deepens. “I don’t know what that means.”

Of course he wouldn’t know what it means.

I wave him off. “Never mind. I haven’t brought someone to ‘meet the parents’ since high school, so they’d already be suspicious. Especially since I never told my mom I was dating someone in the first place.”

He shrugs. “Just tell her it was casual, so you didn’t want to say anything. But now we’re serious, and you needed me to come hold your hand through this.”

“I can’t tell her that either. She can’t know how much I’m hurting right now.”

“Why the hell not? Your grandpa passed away, Dulzura. That’s something to be sad over.”

I don’t know how to explain this to someone who hasn’t left the church, but I guess I have to try.

“I left my lifelong religion when I was eighteen. Growing up, I was taught if I left the church, I’d never truly be happy, and that’s what my family believes.

I can’t let on if I’m miserable because they’ll use it against me to prove I made the wrong choice.

So happy is all I can be. If she finds out I’m distraught over Grandpa dying, she’ll say I need to come back to church so I can see him again in the afterlife.

She did it when my brother died. She used his death to manipulate me. ”

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Ben speechless, but he’s staring at me like what I’m saying is preposterous.

It is preposterous.

“How— why would a parent treat their child that way?” he mumbles more to himself than to me, but I still hear it.

I shrug. “I don’t know. I learned at a young age any negative feelings I had would be attributed to not being faithful enough.

When in reality, I’ve been severely depressed my whole life.

I saw a therapist when I left the church, and she told me I’ve had clinical depression and anxiety—along with my neurodivergence—my whole life.

I’ve gotten really good at pretending it doesn’t exist, and medication helps, but sometimes it’s not as easy to put on the mask. ”

“Your parents never helped? They never saw the signs?”

“They did, but they thought it could all be fixed if I were more righteous.” I want to move on from this depressing topic, so I continue, “Anyway, what’s second?”

Ben blinks, then scrubs a hand over his face like he’s trying to keep the words in his mouth. “My dad already gave me the week off. He didn’t feel comfortable with you going alone either.”

“Oh. ”

“Yeah, oh. And the third thing. The one about me being ‘burdened’ by you.” He uses air quotes around burdened.

“It’s not a burden to help you carry the weight of your emotions, Emma.

Whoever told you that in the past clearly wasn’t strong enough to do it—but I am.

It’s also not a burden to spend time with you.

In fact, I think this could be fun. I can help you take your mind off of the sadness, even if it’s only for a little while. ”

“But why would you want to?” I blurt out.

Ben steps closer again and cups my face. “Because you deserve it. Because I want to spend more time with you. I want to be here for you, Emma. Please let me.”

His espresso eyes look so sincere. He sounds so genuine, I don’t have a choice. “Okay. But we’re sleeping in separate hotel rooms.”

He chuckles condescendingly. “Not a chance, Dulzura. You snuck out on me once already; I’m not going to let you do it again.”

I roll my eyes. “I can’t sneak out if you’re my ride.”

He raises an eyebrow.

Oh, right. I already did that.

“We’ll share a room because it’s cost effective,” he declares. “I won’t force you to share a bed—since it seems to make you uncomfortable—but if a single bed is the only one available, I don’t have any control over that.”

I want to tell him I’m not uncomfortable sharing a bed with him. I’m too eager to share a bed. I think sharing a bed with him for a whole night would probably tip me over the edge, and I'd fall completely in love with him.

You’re already halfway there.

Actually, now that I think about it, this road trip will be the thing that tips me over the edge. I’m going to have to come back and end our arrangement because by the time we’re back in San Diego, I’ll be so in love with Ben Rossi I’ll need another week off of work to recover from the heartbreak.

“Let me finish packing, and then we can go pack your stuff,” I say, trying to stop the spiral of thoughts.

“I already packed. I didn’t want to give you any reason to tell me no.”

Of course he did.

“I planned on stopping in Vegas tonight so I wouldn’t have to drive straight through.”

Ben nods. “Works for me. I know just where we can stay.”

“I can help drive if you get tired—”

“No. You get to sit pretty in my passenger seat. I’ll do the driving.”

I don’t have it in me to fight him. “Fine.”