Sucking in a deep breath, she raised a shaking hand and knocked long and hard. Then she waited, unsure what to say. After knocking a second, and a third time, she decided she would not let Ben tell her to go away.
You’ve dealt with belligerent drunks, surely a grieving man won’t be any worse.
With a shaky hand, Amy raised the key to the doorknob. Before she could insert it, the door opened a margin.
There stood Ben in a gray t-shirt and well-worn sweatpants. He looked terrible. At least three days of stubble covered his cheeks above his normal beard line, and his hair stood on end. His blood-shot eyes reflected the pain she had seen when they first met.
She took a deep breath and pushed the door open a little farther. Ben groaned, put his arm up against the door frame, and hid his eyes against his forearm.
“Do you have a hangover?” Amy asked, surprised. She didn’t think he drank. That was one of the things she liked about him.
Wait. Did I just admit I like Ben?
No. She only admitted there were things she liked about him. Okay, a lot of things.
“I wish,” growled Ben, “then I would’ve had the pleasure of getting drunk.”
Amy shifted from one foot to the other, unsure what to say.
“What are you doing here, Amy?” His harsh tone sent a shiver down her spine. He’d never spoken to her like this before.
Amy took a deep breath, intent on not stammering, although she trembled inside. “I came to see if you were all right.”
He lifted his head from his arm, squinting in the bright light and stared at her like she had two heads.
“Do you know what today is?”
Amy dropped her gaze. “Yes.”
“Then why would I be all right?” The acid in his voice almost made Amy lose her nerve. She grabbed the railing to keep herself from bolting down the stairs.
“How would Melanie feel, Ben, if you didn’t take flowers to her grave and honor her today?” She wasn’t sure where the words came from. She certainly hadn’t rehearsed them.
Ben glared at her as though she’d punched him and knocked the wind out of him. He turned and walked away, leaving the door ajar.
Amy slipped the key into her pocket and stepped into the apartment. She paused, letting her eyes adjust to the dim interior. The only light in the room, and fresh air, came through the open door. She wrinkled her nose as stale air resembling a combination of a locker room and a garbage dump hit her. Her eyes adjusted, and she spotted Ben sitting at a small, round table with his head lying on his folded arms.
Opting to leave the door ajar, Amy sat in the other chair at the table.
“I can’t possibly understand how difficult this day must be for you, as well as every day for the past year, but—”
He lifted his head and glared at her. “You’re right. You have no idea how hard it is to lose everything in the blink of an eye.”
Amy recoiled. His words stung, like a slap to the face. She’d never lost a loved one to death, but she knew what it felt like to be all alone. Gritting her teeth, she pretended his words didn’t hurt. “Today is not about you, Ben.” She paused, to let her words sink in. “It’s about Melanie. Today is a day for honoring her.”
“Tell me, Ms. Grief Counselor,” he snapped as he folded his arms across his chest and glowered at her. “How exactly do Icelebratemy wife’s death and my daughter’s kidnapping?”
Amy wrung her hands under the table. Whatwashe supposed to do? She had no idea what to say? The way he glared at her made her want to high-tail it out of there. She couldn’t blame him for wanting to hide away from the world. She wanted to strangle Paige.
“Well? You come here pounding incessantly on my door, drag me out of bed and tell me I should honor my dead wife, but you’re not going to tell me how to do that?”
Amy flinched at the anger in his words. She thought of all the abuse her mother had suffered at the hands of various men throughout her life and wished she’d been strong enough to stand up to them. That she’d stood up for Amy.
She didn’t want to be like her mom. She’d walked away from Lance. Surely, she could stand up to a grieving widower. Springing to her feet, she took a deep breath. “Listen, I don’t want to be here anymore than you want me here. But I made a promise to your sister, and I intend to keep it. So, like it or not, I’m not going away.”
“Paige put you up to this?” he asked, his tone losing some of its bite.
“She made me promise not to let you spend the day alone.” Amy’s brow furrowed. “She said you need to exercise your muscle?”
