14. Bennett

Iliked to think I was a pretty smart guy, so I knew that this wasn't my best idea ever. I knew it when the thought first occurred to me and I started to consider the logistics. I knew it when I asked Dwight for Jodie's address and to borrow his car. I sure as hell knew it when I got into the car and drove over to the cozy bungalow my new stepmother currently still shared with her daughter and granddaughter. But now that I was outside the Sanders' house, having followed my spontaneous whim in a show of impulsiveness I hadn't exhibited since that fateful night back in college, some of the anxiety that had been eating away at me seemed to preen.

Ever since Carly ran off that day I'd bandaged her daughter's ankle, I'd been going nuts with worry and overthinking and attempts at logic both for and against the theory that I was Ella's father. I just needed to know, and maybe then I could process how I felt about whatever reality I was living in. So that was why I was sitting in Dwight's car outside his new wife's house, waiting impatiently for Carly to get home.

There was evidence all around of Jodie's move. Overfilled trash cans on the curb, boxes stacked against a front window and in the garage. It had me thinking about my own impending move, the apartment and job hunts that hadn't yet started, until headlights flashed down the dark street. That must be Carly. Sure enough, she parked in the driveway, and by the time her feet hit the pavement, I was out of the car and approaching her.

She was beautiful even in the moonlight, even with her hair messy because she clearly had more important things to worry about. I wasn't here to admire her curves in the tight jeans and T-shirt she was wearing, but when I approached her from behind, I couldn't help but notice. I was just a man.

"Carly," I called out to her before I was close enough to startle her, but she still almost jumped as she turned toward me. Her eyes were wide when she turned around. I winced. "Sorry, I—it's just me. Bennett." God, that was lame. It's just me, Bennett, the guy who maybe fathered your child years ago and never even knew she existed. Your new stepbrother. "I didn't mean to freak you out."

"You did," she countered, her tone harsh before she sighed. She looked… tired. Maybe preemptively tired, anticipating the conversation I was trying to make her have with me. She shifted back and forth on her feet. "No, it's fine. You just… I wasn't expecting you."

"I know."

"What are you doing here?"

It was a loaded question, but a fair one. I squared my shoulders. "I'm really sorry to just show up like this. I got your info from Dwight. I thought about calling, but… I think I would have chickened out."

She watched me, those gray eyes almost silver in the evening darkness. Haunting. How had I not recognized her immediately? It was like a scene from that night in college all over again. I cleared my throat. "Anyway, I needed to talk to you. About Ella."

Her face didn't move, trying hard not to have a reaction. But that unnatural stillness was a reaction in itself. I could hear my heartbeat kicking up a frantic rhythm in my ears. "What about Ella?" she asked, her voice shrill. On the attack like a true mama bear.

Here goes nothing. "Is she… mine?"

I could practically hear the grind of Carly's jaw across the driveway. But then I saw it start to tremble. "What do you want?"

I blinked. "What… do I want?"

"From me," she shot back, panic creeping in now. "From her. From us." She sounded younger, somehow. A terrified child. I hated that I was the cause of it. I was in the business of calming nerves, not causing them.

"Nothing, Carly. I don't want anything. I just… need to know the truth."

I watched her deflate, a sad balloon once the birthday was over. Her eyes closed, and she nodded slowly.

It was the answer I needed. No matter how badly I wanted to hear her say the words, I didn't have the heart to make her speak the words aloud. Hell, I couldn't speak myself. Silence spread out between us, a fog of unsaid words, unacknowledged emotions. I wanted to ask a million questions. To yell, even, and blame her for not telling me sooner. But I knew logically that our one night in college had been as anonymous as it could be. I didn't remember her name after all these years, and I wasn't sure I ever even told her mine. How could I have expected her to reach out to me after that?

Whatever had kept Carly from telling me about Ella, be it circumstance or fear, I knew it had the little girl with my eyes at the center of it. This was a mother who put her child first, and I had to respect that.

That was the kind of father I wanted to be, too.

After what felt like a very long time and a few seconds all at once, Carly sniffled, cleared her throat, and stood up straighter. "I'm exhausted, Bennett. There's so much…" She gestured toward the house, then frantically waved a hand between the two of us. "There's just so much happening all at once, and my mom is moving out, and… I promise we can talk another time, okay? But right now, I'd just like to go inside, hug my little girl, and get ready for bed."

"I know," I said. I wanted her to have that. "There's… it's all a lot." Hadn't I been marveling at the chaos of my own life since I'd come back stateside, too? And I didn't even have nearly as much change to contend with as Carly. She had four new men in her life.

"Yeah." She let out on a humorless half-laugh. Carly reached for the bag on her shoulder, and for the first time, I noticed its black strap, the zippered pockets.

"Hey, is that a camera bag?" I blurted out.

She blinked at me. "Um, yes."

"Sorry, I'm not trying to be nosy," I hurried to add. "I just—I remember you said you were a photographer. Back when we first met, I mean. The bag reminded me of it, I guess. It's cool that you seem to have stuck with it."

"Yeah," she said, sounding like she couldn't quite believe I remembered. I wanted to tell her I remembered everything about her, about that night. But this wasn't the time, and I was just falling prey to some romantic notions, seeing her hair gleam in the amber streetlights of her neighborhood. She started to explain, as if she needed to give an explanation to me. "I was… with Logan, actually. Taking his photo for some magazine feature. The photographer who was supposed to do it flaked, and Nate told him I… yeah."

Another deflation at the end of her sentence, and I got the sense that there was something she wasn't saying. Was I imagining the near-nervous babbling, the sheepish way she said with Logan, or was there something else going on here?

It was easy for my mind to jump to conclusions. Again, I focused on the messy nest of her hair, so unlike the organized, put-together aura she usually gave off. And her clothes were a little less perfectly placed than normal, too, her shoes untied, the neckline of her top looking a bit stretched out and falling off her shoulder a little. Even though she clearly was tired, she seemed… more relaxed. Underneath the stress I'd dropped on her, anyway.

There were a lot of conclusions being jumped to in my brain, but somehow, I felt deep in my bones that I was right to suspect there was something more interesting keeping Carly at Logan's apartment this afternoon. Could they have slept together? And did the intense wave of jealousy I felt at the thought of it mean I wished that were me?

Jeez, this was all so stupid of me.To assume Carly hooked up with my brother based on a mixture of flimsy evidence and my own less-than-pure thoughts about her, to assume I understood her normal behavior at all after we'd only met twice in the past decade, and to wish that I were the one who'd ravished her all afternoon, leaving her satiated and a little less stressed out than before. The only feeling I had creeping up that wasn't completely idiotic was a drive to find some kind of place in Carly's life. Now that I knew she was the mother of my child, that I had at least one biological family member on this earth, it was only natural that I felt a pull to be involved.

Carly started to walk toward her house. I looked at it again, took in the evidence of yet more change going on for Carly and her little girl. Our little girl. Would it be lonely, just the two of them in that house they'd always shared with someone who loved them both?

"Carly," I half-shouted, taking another crazy leap that my heart seemed to mimic with its stuttering. She stopped walking, turned back toward me, and with the porch light haloing her, it felt like a sign. "I–I kind of need a place to stay, other than my dad's house. Maybe… what if we were roommates?"

She looked at me like I'd grown an extra head. I couldn"t blame her. "What? Are you… asking to move into my house?"

"Kind of," I admitted with a grimace. "Sorry, I know it's overstepping?—"

"You think?" she huffed.

"It's just—it just occurred to me. I want to be there for you. For Ella. I wasn't able to be there for the past five years, and if I'd known…" I let myself trail off, let her fill in the I would have been there herself. "It's not the most conventional arrangement, and I haven't thought out all the logistics. But I have a lot of lost time to make up for. Maybe this would be a good way for me to get to know Ella, and you, and to get out of the newlyweds' way."

Her expression softened. What I wouldn"t give to know exactly what was going on inside her head as she carefully chewed her lip in thought. I knew I wasn't going to get an easy answer just yet—at least, not the one I was hoping for, and she'd already had plenty of opportunity to give me a flat-out no—but I was willing to meet her wherever she was right now. Hopefully, it wouldn't be another five years before she decided.

"Jesus Christ." Carly laughed. "I'm not saying yes, but… well, maybe I'm insane, but I'll think about it."

That wasn't a no, and that was good enough for me.