Ben’s hands shook. Red was all he saw. Not the red Bonnie loved, but anger.
“Maybe now isn’t the best time for any of this. This isn’t the best way to honor a loved one’s memory. Please, excuse us.” Thomas led his wife Abigail away.
Ben held still, his feet rooted to the same spot.
Theodore and Holly walked away next.
“Leave. We’ll discuss this later.” His father and mother left without looking back.
Ben’s chest felt empty, cleaned out of everything vital inside him. He turned to Dante, needing something from him. Or maybe just needing the man himself, only to realize Dante was gone as well, and he had no idea when the man had walked away, leaving Ben alone.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Ben sat in the back of the limo, eyes closed. It couldn’t stop him from seeing all the things in his head: Tristan, Josiah, Mateo. His father, mother, and the people from the party. Bonnie, she was always there, crying, telling Ben she loved him, and showing him her fascination with red.
And Dante. Dante was there, lingering, watching, and somehow giving Ben comfort with his presence. He didn’t understand why his rapid heartbeat slowed when he saw Dante. Why it became easier to breathe. Why he didn’t feel like he was climbing out of his own skin, but somehow he didn’t. The comfort of the man, even in Ben’s own head, soothed the crazed thoughts that were always there.
The thoughts that had lead him tonight.
“Mr. Worthington? We’re here.”
Ben opened his eyes to see the chauffeur standing beside the open limo door. He hadn’t even realized they stopped moving. Hadn’t heard the door open.
“Thank you.” Ben climbed out of the limo.
“Would you like me to wait, sir?” he asked and Ben only shook his head. He didn’t know if Dante was here or not but if he wasn’t, he would find his own way home.
Ben climbed the dirty stairwell in Dante’s old building. When he got to Dante’s door, he paused a second and just breathed. His mind was going a million miles an hour. It was one of those times when he didn’t feel connected to himself. As though he stood outside his body rather than living in it.
And then he knocked.
He did it twice before the door opened.
Dante didn’t say a word, just walked away, leaving Ben to close the door behind himself after he walked in. He still wore the pants and shirt from his suit, but he’d removed the jacket. The sleeves were folded to his elbows.
“You used me.” Dante walked over to his table, downed the shot sitting there.
“I didn’t use you.” He crossed his arms, studied his lover, but struggled to keep his focus.
“You used me!” Dante slammed the shot glass down on the table hard enough to make it shake. “Whatever this game was tonight, you used me for it. You used being with me as a weapon to hurt your family. To make yourself look less desirable to those people, as though there is something wrong with who I am. My family thought there was something wrong with me. I won’t fuck someone who feels the same.”
Ben opened his mouth but nothing came out. There was something in Dante’s voice that he hadn’t heard before. Not in this capacity.
Hurt.
The man had spoken with the hurt he felt for whatever happened with Abel. For Abel’s death, but never in regards to Ben and something Ben had done to him.
And Dante was right.
“It would be one thing if you told me, but you didn’t. I won’t be used that way, Ben. If that’s what you want, walk back through the door and don’t come back. Don’t call. Fuck!” Dante ran a hand through his thick, black hair. “That’s what you should do anyway. This is becoming too much.”
A real fear lit inside Ben. Not the kind he felt with Javier or the night he’d been beaten. Not the kind he felt with his family or even Tristan. This fear was stronger, more intense, creating a rapid-building, colossal storm inside him. The kind of storm that devastated. Ravaged. Destroyed.
He didn’t want to walk away. He didn’t want this to be too much.
He wanted Dante. Wanted him more than he’d ever wanted anyone.
“I don’t want to go.”
“Which means you should!” Dante yelled. “The fact that I give a shit about what happened here tonight means you should. I can’t do this, Ben. I can’t be responsible for someone again.”
The fear deepened. Clawed at him, viscously tore up Ben’s insides. He couldn’t be alone again. He couldn’t lose someone again. “You think I don’t know I’m fucked up? That my head is a mess and that all I do is take from you? I know it and I’m sorry.” He rubbed his face, paced the room. Felt like he would vomit. “I’m sorry. Just...don’t...”