Quickly averting my eyes, I ignore his comment and push the coffee tray toward him. “I brought coffee.”

He steps right into me. “Am I making you nervous? You’ve seen me naked a million times, Dahl.”

I turn my back to him and start unloading the groceries.

“Hey, you okay?”

With irritation setting in, I sigh. “Ben, I’m fine.”

I feel his hands on my hips and his mouth near my ear as he says, “No, you’re not fine. I know you better than that.”

I freeze, not expecting his touch. “Ben, don’t.”

Ignoring me, he rests his chin on my shoulder as he wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me into him. “I’m sorry, Dahl, I can’t help it. I miss you.”

For a split second I’m transported back to when we would go days without talking and this was always his way of apologizing. But when I feel his lips on my neck, I step away, and move to put the boxes of cereal in the cabinet.

“Come on, Dahlia—don’t you miss us?”

“Ben, how many times do I have to say this?—you can’t put your hands on me anytime you want anymore.”

“What we had was good. That doesn’t just go away.”

I turn to look at him. “It was good. But things are different now. I’m not in love with you anymore. I’m in love with River.”

His discomfort at the sound of River’s name is apparent, and his face contorts as he seems to ignore what I just said. He puts his palms out like he’s surrendering. “Look, I’m sorry. Old habits die hard,” he says as he takes one of the coffees from the trays.

I take a sip of my coffee and exhale the breath I didn’t even realize I was holding as relief washes through me. I’ve been afraid to really let him touch me for fear of what his touch would do to me, but now I’m more certain than ever—I just don’t have any romantic feelings left for him.

“I’m going to check on Trent. Could you put a shirt on?”

He nods his head as I walk past him and leave the kitchen. Needing a minute to myself, I stop in the hall bathroom. I close the door and look at myself in the mirror. I really look awful—my eyes are puffy with dark circles beneath them, my hair is a mess, and my face looks tearstained. I splash cold water on my cheeks and look back in the mirror—glad I finally told him.

When I come out, he’s waiting for me. Leaning against the wall with one hand shoved in his pocket and the other now back in the sling he says, “Okay, I’m outta here. I shouldn’t be too long, but if you need anything you can call Caleb.” Then he turns and leaves.

I check on Trent often, but he’s sleeping soundly.

Sitting on the couch, I look over to Ben’s desk and decide to call Aerie. I miss her and wonder how long she’ll be gone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Aerie.”

“Dahlia? Why are you in Laguna again?”

“Long story. How are you?”

“Feeling like my head is going to spin off. I think I’m just about ready to start looking for a new job.”

“What do you mean? You love your job.”

“Hmmm . . . not so much anymore. There is always so much to do and management never listens. I really wish you were here with me. While I’m conducting this interview, I also have to write a story about my uncle’s band’s rise and fall before his death.”

“Yeah, well, helping you probably would have been a better option.”

“A better option than what, Dahlia girl?”

I tell her about the party and what happened—about finding out that Bell was the girl Ben e-mailed years ago and that River knew about it, then I tell her about the fight River and I had. I also tell her about Ellie. And finally I tell her about Trent and where I am now.

Aerie sounds shocked. First she tells me how sorry she is about Trent. Then she says she can’t believe what I told her about Bell. We talk about how I feel knowing River’s sister is the girl he almost cheated on me with. Finally she tells me that River and I need to do a better job of communicating and once again I agree with her.

When I hang up, I walk over to the kitchen window looking out onto the flower garden. I fill a glass of water and stand there, just drinking it. I’m so lost in thought that I don’t even hear Ben come in the door. I turn around and he’s just standing there, leaning against the doorframe, staring at me. I jump and water splashes everywhere.

“Hi, I didn’t know you were back.” I’m trying to keep my edginess at bay by keeping my voice even.

He cocks his head to the side. Grinning at the water stains down the front of my shirt he stares at my chest. “Did you miss me?” he asks.

I roll my eyes and cross my arms over my chest, leaning back against the counter.

“You ready to spill it?”

I have had enough of his comments but for some reason I still ask, “Spill what?”

“Come on, Dahl, I know you. I know something’s going on. I can tell. Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

Pointing to his arm in the sling I say, “You know very well what’s going on.”

He furrows his brow then grins. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Fuck you, Ben Covington!”

Standing up straighter he moves closer to me and cups my chin. “There’s the girl I know.”

I roll my eyes again; I’m not going to let him get to me. Walking past him, I start to head for the hallway, but he grabs me and pulls me back to him.

I jerk away, glaring at him. “Ben, touch me again and I’ll make sure you have no arms left to use.”

With that, I go to say goodbye to Trent—he’s asleep, or trying to sleep. He’s curled up in a ball, shivering. I only stay a minute because I can’t look anymore—the little boy I watched grow up is gone. God, how did I miss this?

When I walk back into the kitchen to get my keys, Ben is making some toast. “Want some?” he asks, and I remember those words from a different time and a different context.

I shake my head no.

“Well, let me know if you change your mind,” he says. Then he points to the hallway. “Sorry about that before. I really will try to keep my hands to myself, but I can’t make any promises.”

I nod and try not to laugh at his cockiness. Accepting that Ben will always be Ben, I get to the reason I came here to begin with. “What did you decide about Trent?”

“We’ll check him into a center for a twenty-eight-day program. He’ll learn the twelve steps, hate life, hate me and his mother, but hopefully come out with the ability to fight his addiction.”

His bleak assessment takes me aback. “He’s lucky he has you.”

“I don’t think he’ll see it that way.”

“He’ll come around. Speaking of coming around, did you call Serena yet?”

His demeanor, his attitude, they all shift gears and he seems somber, maybe even uncertain. “I’m not going to call her until tomorrow morning. She thinks he’s at his dad’s so she’s not worried. By then I hope the fevers and chills have subsided.”

“Okay, Ben.” He’s right, Trent looks terrible and I’d hate for Serena to see him like that. Knowing there’s nothing else I can do, I reach for my keys and head out the doorway. “Alright, I’ll check in with you later.”

“See ya, Dahl, and thanks,” he calls after me.

I turn to face him before I say, “Ben, I am really glad you’re alive.”

“Thanks, Dahl. That means a lot. And I really am glad you’re happy,” he calls.

I smile at him and our eyes meet, but he quickly averts his gaze. Then I leave the house, probably for the last time.

As I pull out of the driveway, I can’t help but be sad for Trent, but for some reason I’m sad for Ben, too. There’s so much sadness surrounding me right now; focusing on any one facet of it is difficult. Something Grace told me comes to mind as I drive down the street. “There is something beautiful about each and every scar we bear no matter where it comes from . . . I will always be here for you,” and it hits me she has been there for me, and I should be there for her. I’ve never stopped to think about how Ben actually being alive has impacted her—she had scars, too.

* * *

Regardless of the reasons why I acted the way I did; I should never have walked away from her. I realize this as I drive by the beach and look at the families so effortlessly playing, swimming, and smiling, happy to be together. I have to talk to her and apologize for my behavior.

When I reach her house, I open the front door and call out her name.

She’s sitting at a small desk in the corner of the living room, going through some papers with only the desk reading light on.

She looks up from under her reading glasses. “Dahlia, honey, is everything okay?”

In a haze of emotion, I run to her and hug her as tight as I can, blurting out, “I’m so sorry.”

Glancing down, I notice documents with Ben’s name on them—his death certificate, a life insurance policy, and the coroner’s report.

Breaking our embrace, she clears her throat and in a small, almost raspy voice says, “Dahlia, you’re not the one who needs to apologize, I’m the one who should be saying I’m sorry.” She sets her glasses on the desk. “Come on, let’s sit down over here and talk.”

Walking over to the couch I can’t help but think how much this room feels like home to me. How all I want to do is sit here and just be near this woman who has been like a mother to me for my whole adult life. My intention was to come here and apologize to her, but now all I want is the comfort she has always brought me.

I try to disagree, but as she tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear, she keeps talking. “Sweetheart, listen to me. All I wanted was for you to try to understand why he did what he did, see if you could forgive him.”

I take a deep breath and start from the beginning. “Grace, I understand that now. And I have talked to him . . .”

I tell her everything that happened since his return—how I feel like walls keep going up between all of us and we are all being torn apart. We talk for over an hour. She interjects and gives me advice every now and then, but she mostly listens. She tells me that when people love each other, telling them things they know will hurt them isn’t always easy. I can tell she’s also talking about herself.

When I’m all talked out, she explains her feelings to me. “All I want is for Ben and you to be happy, but I know that doesn’t mean together. I know you’re happy with River. It’s just that I’m concerned for Ben. He’s lost and the life he knew is gone. I just thought the reason he hasn’t made any decisions on what to do with his life is because he still thinks you may go back to him. That’s the only reason I wanted you to forgive him. So he could see there was only friendship left.” She pauses to catch my eye. “And Dahlia, he called me a bit ago and he now understands.”

She doesn’t elaborate, but I know what she means. She smiles a small smile and releases my hand. My heart breaks a little for the love Ben and I once shared, but that love is gone. I can’t bring it back, nor do I want to. I can only hope that someday Ben will find what I have found with River.

Standing up, Grace says, “You need to go home and talk to River now.” As she ushers me toward the door she opens it and clutches my hand. “Be honest with him about everything—your feelings, how you feel toward him, your wariness concerning his behavior, all of it. Don’t hold back. If you can open up to him, you will work it out because the love River and you share isn’t a love that happens for everyone. I know this, Dahlia, because every time I see the way the two of you look at each other, I’m reminded of the way my husband and I used to look at each other. That’s how I know what you two have is unbreakable. What I had with my husband was so strong that I will never forget it, even after all these years.”

Hugging her goodbye, I can’t help but think how right she is. I know how much she loved her husband and although I never met him, I saw her love for him every day. As we stand embracing at her door, I feel compelled to tell her something I never have before. “Grace, you know how much I love you. You’re not just like a mother to me, you have been my mother.”

Her chin trembles and with the smallest of nods, she hugs me even tighter. “Dahlia, I love you so much. And thank you for that.”

When we pull away, I look more closely at her. She looks so worn out. I notice dark, bluish circles under her normally sparkling eyes. “Grace, please don’t worry so much. Ben will work everything out. I know he will. He’s tough and resilient. He will be fine.”

“I hope so Dahlia, I hope so. Now go home and talk to River,” she says as she motions me down the steps and into the rain. Then she calls out, “Dahlia honey, where’s your umbrella?”