“And you’re feeling really good about it,” Ben continued. “Not at allconflicted. Not defensive in any way.”
“Shut up.” But Liam didn’t want Ben to shut up. It had been way too long since someone had talked to him like this. Since someone had actually expected him to be a decent human being, and expected him tocareif he fell a little short of the mark.
Ben grinned at him as if he knew his comments were welcome, and for a moment everything was comfortable andfriendly and wonderful. Then—it stopped. The warmth faded from Ben’s face, and he looked away suddenly, almost shamefully, as if he’d been caught looking at someone else’s secret.
“I’m going to check in with Uncle Calvin,” Ben said.
There was no reason for him to do that, not that Liam could think of, but he nodded anyway and sat there as Ben walked away from him.
The moment was over. Liamhad to let it go.
STUPID. BENwas so stupid, letting himself get dragged back into the old patterns with Liam.
Sure, he was easy to talk to. Easy to work with, look at, be around. Easy to admire, easy to care about.
Easy for Ben to get his heart broken. Again.
“My back’s a bit sore,” he told Uncle Calvin. “Maybe there’s a different job I could do for the rest of the morning? I don’tmean to wimp out—”I just can’t trust myself around Liam Marshall.
Uncle Calvin, in some sort of modern miracle, nodded. “That’s fair,” he said. “I can make some changes.” He pulled a well-folded sheet of paper out of his back pocket, peered at it, then bellowed, “Seth! Liam! You two and Ben are going to do some painting.”
“No,” Ben started, but Uncle Calvin steamrolled over him.
“We’re paintingthe trim before we put any of it on,” he explained. “Once it’s installed we’ll just touch up the nail holes and be done with it. And it’s all white, so that’s easy too. You can set up over there, by the shed.”
“No,” Ben started again, but by then Liam and Seth had both joined them.
“No more framing?” Seth asked. “I thought we were really getting into the rhythm of things.”
“Little Benny’s backis hurting him,” Uncle Calvin explained.
Seth nodded. “It’s been a while since Little Benny has done any real work.”
“He did okay with your raspberry bushes,” Liam said. Then he added, “And, honestly, my back’s sore too. I know, I’m just another spoiled office drone, right?” He turned to Ben. “Right between your shoulder blades? Feels like someone’s cutting you with a razor blade every timeyou move your arms?”
Well, yes, damn it, that was exactly what it felt like, but the idea had been to get further away from Liam, not to have the man stick up for him and commiserate about their shared pain.
“Maybe we should just fight through it,” Ben suggested. Not that it really mattered—going back to work on the framing with Liam would be just as intolerable, just as irresistible, as shiftingover to work on painting, still with Liam.
“Take a break, stretch out, come back to it later,” Uncle Calvin advised. “This is a weekend-long marathon. Can’t have you falling apart the first morning.”
Falling apart. A melodramatic way to refer to a sore back, but strangely apt as a description of Ben’s actual issue. He felt like he was dissolving—well, no, notallof him dissolving, just theouter parts. The barriers he needed in order to protect himself from Liam were crumbling. Ben was left exposed and vulnerable. And he didn’t like it.
Or at least heshouldn’tlike it. But when Liam grinned at him and wondered out loud when they’d turned into old men, it was impossible not to grin back. And having started grinning, so very difficult to stop, or to persuade himself he should feelbad for not stopping.
They got back to work, and after a while, Ben gave up on trying to resist. The whole day started to feel like it existed inside a bubble. A bubble full of hard work, sure, but also sunshine and friendship and butterflies dancing around the weeds at the edge of the building lotandthe insides of Ben’s stomach every time he spoke to Liam or looked at Liam or thought aboutLiam….
It was horrible and wonderful and terrifying and comforting. Ben couldn’t stand it for another second but never wanted it to end.
He knew exactly what was happening, of course, although he wasn’t sure what to call it.Falling in lovemade it sound like something new, and there was nothing new about this feeling. It would have been easier to dismiss it if he’d never felt it before, neverfelt itfor Liambefore. He could have called it infatuation or said he had a crush, or had fallen in lust. But none of that was right.
His love for Liam had never gone away, he realized. He’d rejected it, done his best to crush and ignore it, but it hadn’t died. It had smoldered away, hidden under all the layers of crap he’d—no,they’d—thrown on top of it. But now the embers were being exposedto oxygen, were being fanned back to life, were bursting into beautiful, warming flames.
He was so screwed.
