Page 19 of When Ben Loved Jace (He Loved Him #2)

I call Jace once alone in my room, but I don’t tell him what happened.

Maybe because I haven’t made sense of it yet.

The call was short anyway since he needed to board his next flight.

I craved the reassuring sound of his voice, and a reminder of how good things turned out for me, and I got it, but this only deepened my guilt for letting Tim down.

I should have stayed in touch with him. Given him advice, when he needed it.

Steered him away from the disturbing choices he’s made.

I have to know. Imagining what his life must be like is painful enough.

I'm ready to face the truth, so I get into bed with his phone, feeling like I’m about to reunite with an old lover.

That I’m only wearing a loose-fitting pair of boxers feeds into this sensation.

The air conditioning in our apartment rarely ever works.

My window is open to let in the night air, a fan blowing from the corner of my room to cool the sweat on my skin, which might come from my nervousness more than the warm weather.

I type in my birthday when challenged for a passcode, still floored that he chose to use that. Tim didn’t have time to change it before handing over the phone, so in a way, he’s been carrying me with him all this time.

The breath catches in my throat when I gain access.

The first thing I notice is the background he’s using, which is abstract art.

His own work. Like his touch, I have an intimate familiarity.

My first destination is his text messages, since there had been a notification shortly after he gave the phone to me.

It’s from someone named Eric, who I assume is his sugar daddy.

Would you mind picking up some milk on your way home, please?

Okay, so that’s not as sexually charged as I was expecting, sounding more domestic than anything.

Although, I suppose when you sell yourself to someone, you’re at their beck and call in a variety of ways.

At least his sugar daddy is polite about it.

I scroll up to read their previous exchanges, which aren’t scandalous in the slightest. There’s an art exhibition at a local museum they both want to see, they discuss a friend’s upcoming birthday party, and an exchange that I struggle to understand because it probably involves an in-joke.

Nothing even remotely illicit. Maybe the rumors Allison heard weren’t true.

I switch from texts to photos, the ember of hope extinguishing with a pitifully small wisp of smoke, because the first photo I see is of an old man.

He’s thin with gray swept-back hair. A subtle smile plays about his lips as he leans against a kitchen counter, a beam of natural light lending the image warmth.

I hastily continue scrolling and find plenty more photos of the man, who often appears to shy away from the attention he’s receiving.

Although there is unmistakable affection in his blue eyes.

Photos of him dominate the phone, his only real competition a stocky bulldog, who I assume is Eric’s pet.

I do find a photo of a rotund man with a lecherous expression, which I linger on, since he’s more what I was imagining.

Is that Tim’s sugar daddy? If so, I can’t seem to find many photos of him.

Although, as I delve deeper into the phone’s history, a different player is revealed.

Someone our own age with a strong build and a scattering of freckles across his thick nose.

Unruly hair the color of rust is always crammed beneath various ballcaps that advertise farming equipment brands.

Plaid flannel shirts add to the country boy vibe.

He’s handsome, and while there are quite a few photos of him, none seem particularly intimate, so I’m guessing he’s one of Tim’s new friends.

His expression always seems guarded in a way that’s all too familiar.

I’m zoomed in close on his face when another text message arrives. And it’s from Eric!

Hey! I know what it says, but this is Tim. I had to borrow a friend’s phone so I could text myself. I’m about to call. Please pick up.

My heart goes into overdrive. I’m not ready yet!

The phone vibrates in my hand. I know I shouldn’t, but I need answers. A trembling finger pokes a green icon. When the glass screen brushes my ear, I’m reminded of when his lips used to do the same.

“Hey.”

“Hey!” Tim responds with much more enthusiasm. “I wasn’t sure if you’d pick up.”

“Neither was I.”

“God, you have no idea how good it is to hear your voice again.”

I do actually, because I was just thinking the same thing, but of course I don’t tell him that.

“How have you been?” he prompts.

I open my mouth, but it’s a difficult question, because since leaving him, some part of me has continued to ache. But there were also plenty of good days. And bad dates—false starts that would always end with me thinking that he was the one after all. Until recently.

“Happy, I guess,” I answer at last.

“You guess?” he says, picking up on my uncertainty. “I think I get it.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. I was happy yesterday. And the day before that. I’m happy now too, but I’m no longer—I don’t know… Satisfied.”

I swallow against the lump in my throat, because yeah, he gets it.

“I need to see you again, Benjamin.”

My early warning systems kick in. I slide out of bed, so I can pace off my anxiety. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“How come? I’d let you get dressed first. Although you look good wearing nothing but a pair of boxers.”

My mouth falls open. Then I spin to face the window.

“You’re still so damn scrawny,” Tim says with a chuckle. “And I like it.”

Did I just hear an echo?

“Where are you?” I ask before lowering the phone.

“Take a guess.” I hear him respond.

The lights in my room are already low, but I turn them off completely, so I can see outside my window.

Tim appears from the shadows with a sly grin on his face and a phone pressed against his ear.

The one he must have used to track the location of his own.

“Don’t look so surprised. I learned from the best gay stalker there is. ”

“Oh my god!” I say, scurrying for my clothes.

I hastily put them on while listening to him laugh.

“Raise the screen and let me in,” he suggests.

“No!” I spin around, my face burning. “Go to the front door.”

Tim shrugs. “Works for me.”

I gather up my things and creep through the apartment, not wanting to alert Allison.

I can hear her singing in her bedroom. I notice a half-empty bottle of vodka on the kitchen table as I sneak past it.

She’s still drinking a lot, despite not being with party-boy Ken anymore.

Then again, with graduation fast approaching, I can’t begrudge her a vice. We all have our secret addictions.

Tim is already there when I open the front door.

He’s wearing a tight-fitting T-shirt that grips his impressive build and a different pair of cargo shorts than I saw earlier.

His hair is neater now—dark and silky and begging to be touched.

I always wanted him to grow it out. Now I got my wish. Lucky me. He really shouldn’t be here.

Tim takes a step inside. I put a palm against his chest to stop him, which is a bad idea, because it reminds me how obsessed with his pecs I used to be. And it doesn’t work anyway. He just keeps coming closer, my arm sagging like a limp noodle to let him.

“I missed you,” he says, a hint of beer on his breath that mingles with his cologne. “Did you miss me?”

“Stop!” I hiss in hushed tones. “You can’t come in.”

His eyes travel deeper into the apartment before he smirks. “Are you worried we’ll wake up your parents?”

“Allison is way scarier than they ever were!”

This seems to sober him up. He has no real reason to fear her, but it could cause a scene, and that would interfere with… well, whatever this is.

“Go for a walk with me,” he suggests.

“Fine.”

I push on him again, and this time Tim doesn’t resist.

“There’s a park nearby,” I suggest once we’re outside.

“That’ll bring back a few memories,” he says as we begin to walk. His hand brushes against mine.

I pull away, but the fleeting contact sends goosebumps chasing across my skin. This has gone far enough! “I have a boyfriend,” I inform him.

His face falls. Then he sighs. “Fuck. I figured you might, but I hoped anyway. My loss.” Tim looks over at me sharply. “Really! The biggest loss of my life. You always have been.”

I wish my heart had an off switch, because it’s going crazy.

“So who’s the lucky guy?”

“His name is Jace. He’s a flight attendant.”

“Cool. Is it serious? How long have you guys been together?”

I don’t like the line of questioning, so I turn the tables on him. “Why did you move here, Tim? I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”

I don’t mean to raise my voice. I just feel so much. Like always. Sometimes I think it’s my secret weakness. At others, I’m convinced it’s my greatest strength.

“I dunno,” Tim answers. “I guess I liked the idea of there being a chance of us getting back together, no matter how small. But uh… I was a mess that first year, even after getting away from my parents. I never went home for a visit without a girlfriend. I’d always find someone to bring with me, wanting to reassure them that I wasn’t… ” He shrugs. “You know.”

He still can’t say it. I made the right decision after all. Maybe I can still help him though.

“Then I ran into Allison,” he continues, “and she said you’d moved across the country to get away from me. I thought sometimes about taking a road trip to find you. But I figured you wouldn’t be thrilled to see me, even if I did. Judging from how you reacted earlier today, I wasn’t wrong.”

“You surprised me,” I say, squirming with embarrassment. “That’s all.”

“You literally ran, dude,” Tim says, nudging me playfully. “That wasn’t exactly good for my self-esteem.”

“I’m sure you’ve had plenty of admirers since me,” I say pointedly.