“He was one of the first on scene,” Benny continues, voice low, careful. “I told him about you. About the dance.” His gaze holds mine, unflinching, burning with sincerity. “And he knew Jacob was on his way. I… I told him… about us… about how I care—” He shakes his head. Halting before stepping too far.
“You deserve more than silence,” Benny murmurs, softer now, coaxing, almost tender. “You deserve someone who won’t disappear when everything falls apart. Someone who will stay. Someone who’ll hold you when you’re like this.” His voice dips, earnest, trembling. “That’s me. Not him.”
It fits. Too neatly. Too easily.
I try to step back from him, but he cups my face, lowering his forehead to mine. “You don’t have to question this. You don’t have to think right now. Just let me take care of you until you’re strong enough. That’s what you need. Me.”
His words pour over me, like honey laced with razor blades. Sweet. Soothing. Cutting me as it seeps in.
“Summer,” he murmurs, his voice a low, steady rumble—too calm, too sure. His thumb catches another tear as it slips down my cheek. “You don’t have to do this here. Not alone. Not in his house.”
My breath snags, chest tightening.
“Jacob doesn’t love you,” Benny says, quieter now, the edges of his voice smoothing into something dangerous and kind. “If he did, he wouldn’t have walked out. He wouldn’t have left you here to fall apart. He’d have told you. He’d have stayed.”
His thumb traces the wet path down my face, pausing at the corner of my mouth. His breath mingles with mine, warm and close enough to steal. “You deserve more than that, Summer.”
I want to fight him—to tell him he’s wrong, that Jacob’s silence is its own kind of love, brutal and confusing but real. But the wordscatch somewhere between my ribs. Because Benny’s voice is soft enough to sound like comfort, and his lies come sweet enough to swallow.
“Come with me.”
The words are whispered, but they slice through me. I blink up at him, dazed.
“What?”
“Come back to my trailer.” His hand strokes down my arm, gentle, steady. “You shouldn’t be here when you’re like this. You’ll fall apart in these walls, Summer. Let me take you somewhere safe. Let me take care of you. Somewhere away from this.”
My stomach clenches. The thought of leaving this house—Jacob’s house, our house—feels like the ultimate betrayal—a step that would ruin everything, a step that would put Benny in a body bag.
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.” Benny’s tone is soft, but steel runs beneath it. “You think he’ll come back and hold you? No. He’s drowning you in darkness Summer, fucking with your mind.” His hand cups my face again, tilting me to look at him. “But I won’t. I’ll give you light, Summer. I’ll give you somewhere you can breathe. Time to process this, to grieve properly.”
The tears spill over again. My chest caves around a sob, but it isn’t grief this time. It’s confusion. A crushing, suffocating confusion that makes me want to run in every direction at once.
He presses a kiss to my hairline, featherlight. “Please. Come with me tonight. Don’t deal with this alone. We can collect your friends on the way if you’d like that.”
I close my eyes, trembling in his arms. My parents are gone. Jacob left me alone. And I need comfort. I need Constance and Adelaide.
My lips part, a whisper breaking free. “Okay.”
Benny exhales like he’s been holding his breath for hours. Relief softens his whole frame, but his grip tightens like victory.
He kisses my hair again, lingering this time. “That’s it. I’ve got you. You’ll be safe with me.”
His hand finds mine, fingers interlacing, tugging me gently but insistently toward the door. My chest is hollow, my mind numb. I move because I can’t think of another option.
The air outside bites cold against my wet skin. Gravel crunches under our steps. Benny’s grip is steady, pulling me toward his truck. I glance back at the house, looming dark and silent behind us. The walls feel like they’re watching me walk away. Those walls hold memories. The fights, the violence, but also the place I learned that I could love a monster. The place he stroked my hair and kissed my neck. The place we made love for the first time.
Benny squeezes my hand. “Don’t look back,” he murmurs.
The words cut, but I let him keep pulling me forward. One step. Then another. My chest aches, but I push it down.
I’m about to turn back to the house. To tell Benny no—to tell him I want to wait for Jacob—when headlights flare at the end of the drive.
I freeze. My heart lurches, wild, desperate. The familiar growl of an engine follows, low and rumbling, pulling closer. Dust kicks up behind the beam of light, sweeping across the yard until it lands square on us.
Jacob’s truck.
