3. Stephanie

Inever, ever thought I’d creep home in the middle of the night in shame and disgrace.

Who would have thought that in the space of three months, a woman on the highest highs would find herself looking down and wondering where the hell it all went wrong.

But here we are. Sneaking back into my old hometown and wondering how long I can stay hidden before all hell breaks loose and the angry villagers show up at my house with pitchforks and burning flames on sticks.

Why the hell can’t I remember the word for that?

I’m a writer for god’s sake and the word escapes me. What the hell is wrong with me?

But I know what it is. It’s fucking fear. Fear that I’m about to be burned at the stake for the witch this town takes me for.

But I can’t write. Can’t think. Something is off and the only thing that I can think to do is crawl back to where it all started. Where the first kernels of my muse started.

Where I first fell in love and learned that that love would always come with pain.

I sigh and shove my fingers through my hair, the catchy pop song on the radio in my car crackling and sucking at my last nerve.

I drive around the back roads and finally pull up at my parents’ old house. They passed away during college and I never did anything with it. It’s still in my name. The only thing I did do after I made bank on my first royalties was to pay someone to look after the place.

I park the car and stare at the old ranch house that still looks the same just a little older and more worn. Not that my parents really kept it in fantastic shape. They were more inclined to sit in a corner of the living room and get wasted on a Friday night than they were interested in taking care of me or the old house. I think that might be why I can’t seem to get rid of it. It feels like this old house and I are in the same boat. We’ve both been dumped and forgotten over the years by people that should have taken care of us.

I can commiserate with the old homestead. Even if I’m not wild about being back here.

I open the door and pull my keys out of my pocket, staring at the dilapidated porch like it’s just dying to tell me a story. Like an old friend that’s been away too long.

“Steph?”

My back stiffens and I suck in a sharp breath. My eyes close and I’m back in my house watching out the window and running to the door, wrenching it open with a cry as his arms wrap around me like they always do. I feel safe in his arms. I always have.

“It’s all gonna be okay, Steph. Just come home with me and we’ll take care of you.”

That’s what he always said when I called him to tell him that Mom and Dad weren’t home and I hadn’t eaten in two days. One of many times that I called him.

“Aren’t you gonna say hi, Steph?”

“Benjie?” My voice breaks and I can’t open my eyes, can’t look back at him. I’m terrified that I’m dreaming this. That when he does show up he’s just going to be like everyone else. Looking for his angle or just pissed that I wrote such a sleazy piece of trash.

I feel his warmth against my back and warm arms wrap around my upper arms, tugging me back against him. His breath puffs across my cheek and I suck a sharp breath in, trying to hold myself steady. Trying not to whip around and throw myself in his arms. Wrap myself around him like a cheap lycra leotard and never let him go.

“Open your eyes, baby girl.” His deep voice whispers along my cheek and I shudder, feeling the vibrations all the way down to my soul.

With a deep breath, I slowly turn and one after another, I peel my eyes open, my eyes widening and running up his body, stunned.

“You’re so big!” I exclaim and flush about four different shades of red when he chuckles.

“Yeah. That happens when you grow up, Steph.” His brown eyes glow with amber lights. His dark hair is slightly ruffled and carefully shaped to follow the lean, harsh lines of his tanned face.

His eyes dance down my body and a thrill of electricity runs down to my toes. I stiffen my back and push that shit down. This is Benjie. My best friend and my one ride or die my whole damn miserable life.

I smile and hold my hand out to him. He stares at me like I’ve lost my mind and I just might have. He’s fucking gorgeous and all the synapses in my brain are clicking and firing up in ways that I never thought were possible.

In ways that I don’t need.

Friends, asshole. Just friends.

“I don’t think that’s gonna work for me, baby girl.”

For just a minute I freak, thinking I’ve said out loud what I’ve beens saying to myself.

But then my brain goes off a ledge when he grabs me up and holds me tight against the biggest, broadest, hardest chest I’ve ever felt. He spins me around and around until I’m dizzy and breathless. Then he sets me down and grins cheekily.

“Damn, I’ve missed you, Steph!”