I took a few seconds to process this, thinking back to our interactions and struggling to find even a single instance where he’d exhibited the outward signs I’d come to recognize. I hated that I hadn’t realized he was dealing with this. It was time I redefined my parameters for how someone with depression and anxiety should speak and behave. My narrow experience with them had clearly left me ill-prepared.
“Are you getting treated?” I asked. “I know it’s not really my business, but I’ve had friends and family members who didn’t, and the outcomes were unhealthy, to say the least.”
He nodded. “I’m on medication, and I talk to my therapist at least once a week.”
“Is this why you cut back on alcohol and caffeine?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought maybe you were an alcoholic.”
His expression darkened. “I got close to that point, before getting help.”
“Again, I amalwayshere if you need anything. My mom hassevere seasonal depression, and Megan has had anxiety almost her entire life. I know a little of what the bad days can be like, so tell me if you need space. Or if want someone to be there with you through them.”
He let out a shaky breath. “I will. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
We stood close, our toes almost touching. I wanted to reach out and hold him, comfort him, but after hearing that he didn’t think anything romantic would be healthy, I worried he’d misinterpret it.
“Can I hug you?” I asked. “In a friendly way, not an if-it-lasts-long-enough-I-will-eventually-try-to-touch-your-butt kind of way.”
He laughed and pulled me into a rib-cracking bear hug.
“I’m sorry if you’ve felt like I’ve been pressuring you in any way or angling for a more than friendly relationship,” I said. “I’ve actually been trying to do the opposite.”
“You want to be my nemesis?” he asked. He leaned back so he could arch a brow at me. “Could be fun.”
I shook my head. “Not what I meant and you know it. I meant that I’ve been trying not to have feelings for you.”
He pulled me back in and rested his chin on top of my head. “Yeah, same.”
Chapter 14: Ben
Ella was attracted to me. I was attracted to Ella. But I wasn’t sure if I was ready to act on it.
This must have been one of the higher circles of hell. One reserved for amateur sinners who didn’t do anything bad enough during their lives to warrant everlasting physical torture but werejuuustshitty enough that they got to spend eternity sexually frustrated.
Ella left my house an hour ago, as the sun began to set. Upstairs, paint dried in the spare bedroom. We came downstairs after covering the walls with a heavy coat of primer and got to work putting together the furniture I bought for the library. The mood had eased some when we pulled apart from our hug, a sort of cease-fire of sexual tension. We let the puppies into the library with us, and the roly-poly chaos they brought with them worked wonders to distract us.
Now she was gone, and I sat alone on the living room couch, the puppies passed out on me, a fire crackling in the fireplace. There was nothing to keep my mind occupied.
I raised my hand and flexed my fingers, remembering the feel of her waist beneath my palm. This was my fault; I initiated the flirtation. I had no one to blame but myself. When she asked me for help with that light fixture, I turned around to see her holding the ugly thing up, hertoned arms on display, and couldn’t keep my gaze from sliding down over the rest of her. The t-shirt she wore had ridden up, exposing the slight curve of her hips and her tight, rounded ass.
God bless the person who brought leggings back into style.
Just above the band of them, a couple inches of Ella’s lower back was exposed, her skin as pale as cream, the slight dimples on either side of her spine visible. I wanted to drop to my knees behind her and trace them with my tongue.
My attraction to Ella shouldn’t have come as a surprise. She was my type, after all. Not just physically, but emotionally and even mentally. It was the strength of my attraction, now that I’d stopped suppressing it, that caught me off guard. I spent the entire afternoon wanting to capture her laughter with my mouth, swallow down that beautiful sound and let her warmth fill me. I wanted to tease her, unendingly, just to watch the color bloom on her cheeks. I wanted to thread my fingers into her hair. I wanted to hear the noises she’d make when I made her come.
She didn’t freak out when I told her I had depression and anxiety. Nothing about her behavior toward me changed afterward. It made me want her even more. It made me wish that I’d done what I wanted and kissed her tears away when she cried. It made me want to schedule the tests. To find out once and for all what my fate was so I could finally move forward with my life. And maybe, move forward with her.
My phone rang from the side table. Doodle, who’d been splayed across my lap, jerked awake at the sound and nearly tumbled off of me. Boots, sleeping on his back wedged in between my thigh and the arm of the couch, twitched his head up to glare at the phone. I scooped it up and answered, feeling like I should apologize for disturbing them.
“Hey, Dad,” I said. Finally. I’d been worried after not hearing back from them.
“Hi, Ben. I have you on speaker with Mom.”
