Until November

Chapter 4

Ben

Thank God for the Ipswich Resort. I haven't stopped suffocating from the news Rich dropped on me. Burying my brother and his wife is hard enough. Raising their child with some woman who probably would use it as a photo-posting opportunity is not going to happen. Out. Of. The. Question. I run my hand through my hair and strip my clothes off, going right for the shower. The hour is late. I have zero energy. My mind is numb and my muscles ache from the hard knots invading my shoulders. This long day needs to end.

My suite is spacious. The accommodations are what I'm used to. That's my world. Best of the best, even if the paint color and furnishings all look the same. Luxury is luxury. The shower helps. Hot water eases the knots in my shoulder until I could fall asleep standing up. Turning off the water and toweling off, stray beads of water roll down my grooved abs. Seven hours of training every day makes my body hard, strong, and defined. Naked, I stride to the bed, snagging a t-shirt and boxer briefs, covering up the goods, and sprawl out on the mattress. Legs open, arms out, eyes closed.

My jaw is tender where Jocelyn had slapped me. I just couldn't shut my mouth. Did Jocelyn actually expect I would answer why I don't know anything about my brother's life? She hadn't spent the morning winning a grueling, high-stress tournament followed by two bumpy flights, a long drive and arriving at my dead brother's house to find out—surprise—there's a baby on the way? Oh and be a father for two months with a stranger. Subtle anger trickles through my veins, and in the same breath, her swollen eyes come to mind. Her pain. Her contempt. The ticking-time bomb of her pregnancy.

How did Jack and Hannah choose her anyway? Why did she choose this? Heavy and exhausted, my eyes close, but Jack is in my sleep. The argument. Words I can't take back. The years that followed without a text or a phone call. No congratulations, I saw your game. I could never bring myself to look him up on social media. That's what he wanted. That's what I wanted.

Squeezing my eyes harder I let out a disheveled breath. Just sleep, Ben. Be done with this night.

My eyes peel open to the dark bedroom. It's 2:00 a.m. My heart is racing. Thirty years old. I'm a top athlete. Jack and Hannah are dead. Memories stake their claim. Jack and me playing, racing, inseparable...huddled around the Christmas tree guessing what's in the presents. Jack's confident face when he tells me he kissed a girl, even though I beat him to it and never told him. Adventure. Boredom. Competition—the stuff of brothers. And time. Days spent together.

To the outside world I have it all, and maybe I do, but they don't see the ghosts. They don't see the times after a game I scanned the crowd hoping to see Jack, knowing he wouldn't be there. Jack's death is like a stab. Hannah's is like a second, swiffer stab and no less painful. My anger, my restlessness, my fast-beating heart rock me back to a jarring sleep where I wake up confused and I feel Jocelyn's slap all over again.

A series of annoying texts wakes me up further, I work my jaw, belatedly feeling dried tears. Damn. I forgot to turn off my phone. It's Mia. The groggy weight of sleep has me half-reading her messages.

Mia: How are you doing?

Mia: I want to be out there with you.

Mia: Don't let this be one more thing you shut me out from.

Mia: Friends are there for each other.

Mia: I know how to relieve all your stress.

Mia: Can I help with that now?

The offer is unwanted. Even from 3,000 miles away. From now on, I have to treat her strictly like a friend. Not a friend with benefits. I let out an irritated sigh, why did she have to change the rules?