I Do With You (Maple Creek)

Chapter 18 BEN

Chapter 18

B EN

Roy laughs, but there’s no joy, only harsh bitterness. “I saw you on the sidewalk and thought I’d get you flowers. Here ...” He holds the bouquet out, inches from her face, and Hope lifts her hand slowly to take them. I don’t think she wants them, but she doesn’t know what else to do.

Right as she touches the crinkly plastic, Roy releases them and they drop to the floor at Hope’s feet. She gasps as he snarls at her, “Doesn’t seem right. I’m buying you shit while you’re kissing your ‘friend.’ That’s what you said he was, Hope. I knew I shouldn’t have believed you, but I kept telling myself you wouldn’t do this to me.”

He bangs on his chest, the thump hollow and deep.

He’s acting as though she’s cheating on him by kissing me, but she’s not. She ended things with him days ago, and his refusal to accept her rejection doesn’t change the fact that she did it.

“Roy,” she says, her voice gentle, like she’s worried about his feelings when all that matters are hers.

She’s been doing so well, growing right before my eyes, and it’s been a fucking privilege to lay witness to. Hearing her go soft and unsure for this asshole pisses me off. She’s so much better than him. Better than me, too, but that’s not something I’m willing to examine too closely right now.

No, I’m taking every second she’ll give me, like the selfish prick I am, and giving her everything I have in return. Which admittedly isn’t much, but there’s one thing I can for sure help with—this fucker, who’s glaring at her like he has any right to say a single fucking word to her.

I push my chair back, getting it out of the way as I stand. “You need to go. Leave Hope alone.”

“Or what?” he snaps, rolling his eyes. “You think you’re some tough guy. Do you know who my dad is?”

Is he for real? Does he actually think his dad being the sheriff is some sort of force field that’ll defend him? I guess, in his experience, it probably has. Too bad I don’t give a fuck about his daddy dearest.

“Yeah, I know who he is. But in case you hadn’t noticed, he’s not here to protect you. Maybe he can fix your shit up after I smash it,” I suggest with a goading smirk. “Bring you some chicken noodle soup or something.”

Trash talk is kinda the bread and butter of the streets where I grew up. Everyone would talk shit, and as long as you can and will back it up, you’re good. Where you get into trouble is when your mouth writes checks you can’t cash.

I’m good for every damn penny.

I want to bleed this fucker. Not because of what he’s done to Hope in the past. I hate it, but she admits that she wanted that ... then. No, I want to bleed him for what he’s doing at this very moment. As she’s risking everything for a chance at freedom, he’s all but trying to shove her forcibly back into a cage because he wants the life she promised him.

Well, promises can be broken and life can change.

His is about to.

“Guys, this isn’t necessary. Roy, back off. Ben, let’s go.” Hope’s standing between us, a hand out toward each of us like she can physically stop this. She’s trying to cool things down and get out of here without bloodshed, but this boulder’s already rolling full steam down the mountain.

So I give it an extra push.

“Yeah, Roy ... back off. We’ve got things to do.” I let every filthy, sexy thing I want to do with Hope show in my eyes, in my evil smirk, knowing it’ll send him over the edge.

He takes the bait. “You motherfucker—”

He telegraphs his intentions, with words and a huge, almost comically looping windup of his fist, like he’s never fought a day in his life. But I let him hit me. Hell, I nearly shove my face into his fist, wanting the flash of pain that brings clarity and focus like nothing else can, turning my cheek just enough that it smacks there and not someplace that can cause real harm.

I taste the copper in my mouth and grin evilly, knowing my teeth are red-tinged. I want him to see, to remember that he’s the one who started this, so any and all consequences are his to bear.

He’s panting and looks surprised at himself. “Getouttahere!” he shouts, waving his hand toward the door like he thinks this is done.

It’s barely started.

I swipe at my lip, looking at the watery blood smear on my thumb. Conversationally, I tell him, “Hey, Roy, something you should know—it’s not about the damage you can do, it’s about the damage you’re willing to do.”

Before I even finish the rule I learned on the street, from watching a guy who was willing to go all the way, I’m on Roy. My fist crashes into him three times, hard and fast—nose, jaw, gut. I feel the crunch of bone beneath my knuckles and know I broke his nose at least. He doubles over in surprise, grabbing at me, scrabbling for purchase, and we end up tussling on the wood floor.

I get a few more blows in. So does he. He didn’t fold like a wet towel with the first shots; I’ll give him that much credit.

“Oh my God! Ben! Roy!” Hope is shouting. Other people in Let’s F*rk are too.

“Call the sheriff!” someone says.

None of it registers. All I see are red roses falling to Hope’s feet, his sneer of entitlement to her life, and the look of anticipation in her eyes when we talked about her coming to California to see me. I want that and she wants that, and this pissant fucker isn’t going to take it away from us.

He’s not going to take Hope away from me. The only person who can do that is Hope herself.

“Hands up!” a deep voice yells with authority.

Roy freezes instantly, and I watch as an evil grin steals across his mouth. He thinks this is going his way now. Asshole needs backup for a one-on-one fight.

“Sounds like Daddy’s here to save you,” I snarl.

“Motherfu—” He throws one more punch, with a deputy as witness.

“Damn it, kid.” The officer grabs Roy by the collar and hauls him up to his feet. I don’t get the same assist, so I stand on my own, holding my hands up in surrender.

Unfortunately, it’s not Deputy West this time. This guy’s name tag says Leeson , and he seems to be Team Roy, given he’s standing next to the sheriff’s baby boy to offer a supportive shoulder while openly glaring at me like I’m dog shit on his tactical boot.

“Cool it,” he orders, holding a hand out at me as though I’m threatening to charge them like a rhino. I’m literally standing here, warily watching Roy to see if he’s going to come at me again.

I half want him to. I’ve been spoiling for a fight for so long.

Against life. Against Sean. Against AMM Records.

Against . . . myself.

Shit. Fuck. This too-pretty asshole of an ex is a scapegoat for my own anger, I realize. Yes, I’m 99.9 percent pissed about how he’s treating Hope, but I’ve been on the edge for so long that it didn’t take much to send me over. I thought I was pushing Roy down that mountain, but maybe I was actually pushing myself.

“Roy threw the first punch, Deputy,” Hope informs Leeson. “We were having lunch and he came in, started shouting, and hit Ben first.”

She thinks that matters. And it does in a lot of jurisdictions. But to this guy, right now? Not a bit.

“Gonna have to take you both in to get this straightened out,” he tells Roy and me. He at least manages to act like that’s normal procedure in a public-fight situation. Hell, maybe in Maple Creek it is. But we both know that’s not why I’m gonna be hauled out of here in handcuffs. It’s because I dared to lay a hand on Sheriff Laurier’s precious son.

I nod toward the deputy, acknowledging what he’s said, and then, keeping my eyes on him and my hands up, I tell Hope, “Take my picture right now with my phone. I’ll meet you at the cottage when I get out, but call Sean if I’m not released by tomorrow.”

“What?” she asks in surprise.

I cut my eyes her way, silently explaining that I’m probably not returning looking the way I do right now, and though she has no reason to believe that about her fellow Maple Creek residents and authority figures, she jumps into action, holding her hand out, palm up. Slowly, I remove my phone and keys from my pockets, passing them both to her while Leeson warily watches my every move. Hope snaps a quick picture before she shoves my phone into her back pocket. She gives Deputy Leeson a haughty glare of challenge, her blue eyes filled with Don’t you dare .

I’ve seen police run into the fray and save people, putting their own lives in danger without a second thought, and I’ve turned to them myself for help in dangerous situations. I think that’s the world Hope lives in, and I pray she’s right. But I also grew up in LA, in rough neighborhoods, during some bad times, and have seen police do worse things to people than any gangbanger I was supposed to steer clear of. I’m not sure where Leeson falls on that spectrum, and I won’t know until I’m alone with him.

“Deputy, is all this necessary?” Hope pleads. “It’s two guys letting off a little steam. No different than on the ice.” She’s trying. Gotta love that, but the officer’s not giving her any kindness.

“Shoulda thought about that before you paraded your new guy all over town,” he replies, the harsh judgment apparent in the tilt of his head. I guess while we were walking downtown, enjoying Maple Creek like tourists, the gossip train was chugging along, even going as far as the sheriff’s department. “Turn around, Mr. Taylor.”

Yeah, he already knows my name. Probably been hoping for an opportunity to bring me in to Sheriff Laurier like a sacrificial offering to appease the boss.

“You cuffing us both?” I ask with a quirk of my brow because I know he has no intention of slapping bracelets on Roy. “Or just me?”

“I’ve got someone coming for Roy,” he informs me. When I snort out a laugh at the obvious lie, he presses the button on the two-way radio on his shoulder. “Denice, send another deputy to Let’s F*rk. Need someone to take Roy Laurier into the station. For a statement. ” Ooh, he knows he’s starting shit and is trying to hedge his bets.

There’s a moment of static, and then a woman’s voice responds, “Ten-four. Uh, Leeson? Did you say Roy Laurier?”

“Yeah, Denice. Send a car,” he snaps before sighing and looking at the ceiling. I don’t think he planned on his day going like this when he put on his badge this morning. Me either, asshole. “Turn around,” he tells me again.

I comply this time, giving the deputy my back and hands while giving Hope my attention. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers, placing a peck on my cheek as she wraps her arms around my neck like she can keep me here and safe by her will alone.

“Not the first time I’ve been cuffed, Hope. Probably not the last either. You wanna try them? We could, if you want; maybe when you come to California?” I tease, letting sparkles into my eyes and filthy, sexy suggestion into my voice. I’m trying to distract her from what’s happening behind me, not wanting her to worry. If she can be thinking about sex, about visiting me, about anything in the world that’s not me getting pushed into a cop car, it’s for the best.

She forces out a laugh, but it’s joyless as a single tear slips out of her eye to roll down her cheek.

“What the hell? You’re not going to California. Hope!” Roy shouldn’t be listening if he’s going to get all up in his feelings about our plans. And he really shouldn’t say her name with a power he no longer holds over her. I pin her with my gaze, willing her to be strong. But also, pleading with her not to punch the asshole, because I haven’t forgotten that she says she can pack a wallop of her own. There’s no need for both of us to get arrested.

She moves past me, pointing at Roy with a sharp, accusing finger. “I will never forgive you for this, Roy Laurier. I was trying to be nice because I understand that you’re hurting and it’s my fault. I’m truly sorry for that. Hurting you was never my intention. But this?” She swings that finger my way, telling him, “You don’t get to ruin the rest of my life because I can’t meet the expectations you had for me. I’m not the girl you thought I was. Hell, I’m not the girl I thought I was. I’ve changed. I don’t know when it happened, but it did, and I can’t go back now. I don’t want to. I want more . I want different . Maybe for the first time ever, I want to choose me .” She slaps her palm to her chest, emphasizing her choice. “So all those ideas you had about me, about us? Let them go, Roy. I already have.” Her voice is barely a whisper at the end as angry tears roll down her face. That’s been building up for a long time, and she’s desperately needed that release.

She whirls back to me, effectively dismissing Roy, and grabs my T-shirt, yanking me down to smash her lips to mine in a fierce kiss of defiance, despite the fact that I probably still taste of copper. “I’ll fix this,” she vows. “Deputy Leeson, I’ll be in touch to get Ben out on bail or bond or whatever it’s called.” She waves her hand like she’s quoting from a TV show, not from any experience in dealing with anyone she’s known actually getting arrested.

Hope’s trying to hold strong, but she’s wringing her hands as I’m escorted out of the restaurant. On the sidewalk outside, Deputy Leeson seems exasperated as he grumbles, “Damn it, Taylor. Why’d you have to come screw up this town? You could’ve done the tourist thing any-damn-where along the creek or on the other side of the lake, and none of this would’ve happened.”

Maybe he’s right. Or maybe there was a little fate, a bit of magic, and a sprinkle of destiny all guiding a piss-poor, drunken throw of a dart that brought me to that spot in the woods, on that particular day, at that specific time, to look for a titmouse and instead find Hope.

And hope.

Another SUV rolls up and a deputy gets out. “Leeson, did I hear you calling for backup to arrest Roy?” He looks incredulous that anybody would have the gumption to say that, much less consider actually doing it.

“Not arrest, Eli. Just questioning them to figure things out.” The other officer’s face shows that he’s not on board with that plan either. “Fine, you take this one down. I’ll grab Roy.”

With that, Leeson pushes me toward Deputy Eli, who looks downright relieved to be dealing with me instead. “Come on, let’s go.”

The drive is quiet for a few minutes, and then the officer’s phone rings. He holds it to his ear while still driving, which is probably illegal, but I’m in no situation to argue. “Yeah, it’s true,” he tells the caller.

He nods, though they can’t see him.

“Leeson’s doing it. I sure as hell wasn’t. I’ve got a wife and kids to get home to, ya know.” Eli glances in the rearview mirror, and I feign not listening, even though there’s no way I couldn’t hear him. Seems the gossip train is still a’chugging.

“Yeah, I will. You too.” He hangs up and sighs, makes a couple of turns, and then shrugs like he’s having an internal conversation with himself. “What happened?”

“No comment,” I answer flatly, staring out the window. If there’s one thing Mom taught me, it’s don’t talk to police. It never goes well, even if it’s with the best of intentions. You might’ve not done anything wrong, but you can still end up in juvie with a mom on probation who doesn’t speak to you. Yep, my lips are sealed.

I don’t know my way around Maple Creek that well, but at least we’re staying in town, not heading out to a deserted area. That bodes well for me. I even relax a little when I see a beige brick building with letters over the double doors that proclaim W ILSON C OUNTY S HERIFF ’ S D EPARTMENT .

I’m frog-marched inside unceremoniously and directed onto a heavy-duty bench that’s anchored to the floor with huge bolts. “Stay there.”

I don’t have to guess who Sheriff Laurier is. He walks in looking like an older version of Roy. Not-brown-not-blond hair that’s a bit thinner than his son’s; cold blue eyes with crow’s-feet, which I bet are from squinting at suspicious people, not from smiling; and a confident swagger that comes from knowing you’re the biggest dick in the room. Figuratively speaking. He’s wearing slacks and a polo, not a uniform, which tells me he likely came into the office to deal with this—a.k.a. me —on his day off. Guy like him probably works Monday to Friday, holding down a desk and doing most of his official work with a pen.

Sheriff Laurier strides up to Deputy Eli, his voice carrying across the open room. “Where the hell’s Roy? He okay?”

“Leeson’s bringing him in to figure out what happened.”

“We know what happened. That shitstain attacked Roy. How quick can we lock him up and throw away the key?” Sheriff Laurier snaps, shooting me a threatening look—or, I’m sure he thinks it’s threatening. He should see Two-Bits, the guy who controlled the west corner of my street. He got his name from serving twenty-five years for first-degree murder, and when he got out he was still the scariest motherfucker you’ve ever seen—cold, empty, dead eyes. He was scary. Sheriff Laurier is a yippy chihuahua in comparison.

Eli nods slowly, turning toward me with a carefully straight face. He reaches for my arm to lift me to my feet, but Laurier stops him. “I’ve got him.” With that, the sheriff grips my bicep in his hand, squeezing as tight as he can, and jerks me toward a holding cell in the corner of the room. “Open the door!” he shouts, and a buzzer sounds as the lock releases.

Laurier shoves me into the cell, but he sticks his foot out at the last second to trip me. I end up slamming to the floor on my left shoulder and hip but manage to keep my head from bouncing off the linoleum. “Watch your step, son,” he bites out before swinging the door shut. The buzzer sounds out again as the door locks.

Laurier strides away, yelling at someone to notify him as soon as Leeson and Roy arrive.

I roll over and wiggle around to sit up, which is no easy feat, since I’m still cuffed. I decide to stay on the floor because the bench looks too narrow to sit comfortably with my hands behind my back. Seeing Deputy Eli at a computer, I ask, “Your boss always assault restrained detainees?”

He cuts his eyes to me. “Don’t know what you’re talking about. You tripped.”

I huff out a sarcastic laugh. “Yeah, sure.”

“Whatever, man. Include it in your Yelp review of Maple Creek or whatever. It’ll just keep annoying tourists from coming to town and screwing things up.”

Leeson said something similar. “For a town that survives on year-round tourism, you sure don’t seem to like or want visitors much,” I say conversationally.

“Double-edged sword,” he answers before he clicks a couple of keys on his computer and gets up, then walks away. Guess he’s done with our friendly chitchat.

Locked down, locked away, lost without you. Fight them all, destruction and ruin, just to get to you.

I entertain myself with song lyrics and humming, wishing I could write things down because I’m probably going to forget most of it. All the while, I watch the door for Leeson and Roy. But they never come.

At some point, I see Sheriff Laurier stomp toward the doors, and he leaves too. Probably going to check on his baby boy, I think with a satisfied smirk. Fucker had it coming.

Mostly I think about Hope. I hated leaving her there, especially with Roy. I trust she can handle herself, but witnessing what she did had to be rough on her. And then there was the conversation we had before it all went to hell.

Hope wants to come to California to see me. She wants this to be more than a rebound fling, and while I’d happily be that for her, I’m fucking ecstatic that she wants more. I do too.

So much more.

There’s just one last hiccup to handle before that can be a reality, and it has nothing to do with Roy, his father, or my current predicament.