The Best You’ve Ever Had

Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Ben

When I was in second grade, I remember Mick trying to convince me to take medicine. When the school nurse called to say I had a high fever, he picked me up from that little bench in the nurse’s office. The first thing out of my mouth was that there was absolutely no way I was going to take medicine. I despised the too-sweet syrupy taste, and had planned to go down with a fight. With a gentle nod, he took my hand, which seemed hot against his non-fevered one, and drove me to the pharmacy down the road. He bought every flavor antipyretic, in every formulation, as I kicked and screamed that I wasn’t going to take it.

Not once did he raise his voice or threaten me to knock it off. What he did do was kneel beside me, right there on the filthy pharmacy carpet. It threw me for a loop. Here I was, making a scene in public, but instead of being embarrassed, he chose to sit with me.

As I swiped at my nose with the sleeve of my jacket, he put a hand on my shoulder and told me, “Look, kid, sometimes we have to do things in life that we don’t want to. That’s just how it is. But here’s the thing, it’s not about liking it. It’s about knowing that some things are necessary, even when they feel difficult. Like this medicine. You take it because it’ll make you feel better, not because it’s fun. Life’s a lot like that. You’ve gotta learn to push through the parts that aren’t easy, ‘cause they’ll lead you somewhere better.” Then he added, “And if you take the damn stuff, I’ll buy you a slushie the size of your head.”

At the time, I didn’t fully grasp what he was saying. But I wanted that slushie, and something about his words felt important, even if I didn’t know why yet. So they stuck with me, lingering in the back of my mind until I was old enough to finally understand.

Now, here I am, the one delivering him medicine that he’d rather not take. Nothing in these bottles will save him, but they will take the edge off and make him comfortable.

Slipping one of the pills from the orange prescription bottle, I hold it out to him.

He eyes it with a downturned grimace. “You know, back in the day, a shot of whiskey was all the medicine a man needed. None of this fancy prescription stuff that I can’t even begin to pronounce.”

I shake my head, fighting a laugh. “Yeah, well, I don’t think the doctor would recommend whiskey right now.”

“Still, I wouldn’t mind a sip.” With a shaky hand, he plucks the pill from my palm with a smirk. “I suppose this’ll have to do though.”

“I know you hate this, Grandpa.”

“It’s not about hating it. I just…I’m tired of fighting. You get to a point where all this, it’s just noise, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it. But I’m still gonna make sure you’re as comfortable as possible. A wise man once told me that sometimes you do things you don’t want to because they’re necessary. And the doctors seem to think these steroids are pretty necessary.”

He smiles again. “That lesson might’ve backfired on me.”

“Should’ve known it would sooner or later. I did learn from the best.”

With a watery smile, he looks at me like he’s still seeing that second-grade boy, not the worn-out thirty year-old standing in front of him. “I’m proud of you, kid. You’ve turned out to be a good man. Better than I ever was.”

I swallow around a lump in my throat as I pass a cup of water to him. “That’s not true.” I’m nowhere close to half as good of a man as he was. By my age, he had already been promoted to engineer, started the very first non-profit for Lawson Fire Department, and was married to my grandma with a baby on the way. I feel as if I’m floundering in life, biding my time to see what the hell is supposed to happen next.

He gulps down the pill and shakes his head. “Well, you don’t have to believe it, because I know what I see. Besides, it’s not up for debate. I’m older and half-dead as it is, so I win.”

I burst out laughing at the man who has been a hero in my eyes since I was old enough to form a sentence. But as silence follows, deep down, I know this is one of those moments you don’t get back, because not even heroes can outrun death.

Every year, the Havenbrook Fire Department union rents a hall, throws up tacky dollar store decorations, and throws one of the biggest parties of the year for the staff. Firefighters are responsible while they’re on duty. When we’re off the clock though, things have been known to get wild. And being that the majority of the department consists of numerous philanderers, I’m not quite sure how I’ll be able to prevent Layla from getting dogpiled with advances. We’re only fake dating and ultimately she’s not mine to guard, but I’ve always felt protective over her, especially now.

I look forward to this event every year—drinking with my coworkers who are like family, while playing the most insane white elephant game. I hadn’t been planning to attend this year, due to Mick’s health. Yet, Dad and Layla found a way to talk me into going.

It still won’t feel the same. I don’t feel like I belong amongst the sea of people happy and celebrating. The only thing I feel is a clock of grief counting down. It’s as if the mourning has already begun and he hasn’t even left earth yet.

As soon as I pick her up, I know I’m in trouble. She walks out to my idling car, wearing a tight black dress underneath her wool winter coat, and I instantly realize how fucked I am. Even under her jacket, I can tell her dress clings to every gorgeous curve of her body. I’d sworn not to stare, but it’s like trying not to be captivated by a breathtaking sunset. It’s just there, effortlessly stunning, unaware of its own beauty.

She sits quietly in my passenger seat as I drive to the event hall. After a few minutes, she grabs the stereo knob and turns down the music to a low hum. “So what am I walking into here? Do your coworkers know anything about our little fake dating scheme?”

“I hadn’t mentioned anything yet. We should probably keep up the ruse though and act like we are.” Definitely not for selfish reasons. Definitely not for making my friends and coworkers believe she’s mine, so they’ll back off of the inevitable shit storm of hitting on her.

“Okay. Got it.” When I glance over, her cheek twitches with a smirk. “Sure this won’t ruin your playboy status with your bros if they think you’re in a relationship?”

“I was that good, huh? To make you think I’m a playboy?”

“I thought we agreed to never think about or mention it again,” she groans.

Pulling into the old rundown parking lot, I keep my eyes straight ahead. “Layla. There’s no way I’ll ever forget last night.”

I put the car into park and turn it off, and she turns to me, looking at me with a mix of playfulness and defiance. “I was that good last night, huh?”

All I can do is laugh. Because I should have seen that coming from a mile away, my same cocky words being thrown back in my face. And it’s not a lie. The way she squirmed when my mouth was on her was all it took to make me come. She was that good.

“Guess the feeling’s mutual then,” I say, sliding out of the driver’s seat, and taking long strides to open her car door. I reach it before she has the chance to open it herself, extending my hand to help her up to standing in that tight dress.

“How chivalrous,” she mutters under her breath, and grabs my hand. She’s aware that she does need help, but does not want to admit it.

I fight back a smile, as I try to ignore the way my stomach clenches when we touch again. We’re only holding hands for all of two seconds, and that’s all it takes to make my body hum like a live wire.

She tries to let go of my hand, but I pull her into the crook of my side, and sling an arm around her shoulder. A cold breeze swirls around us, as she shivers and nestles closer into me for warmth. “What are you doing? No one can even see us out here.”

“Can’t be too safe. They might be able to see from inside.” I point to the tinted window up ahead. It’s a total lie. I know everyone in there is already too drunk to give a shit. I just like having her here. Next to me, where I can feel the weight of her beside me and smell the coconut scent of her shampoo.

I’m fully aware that I’d be damn lucky if I had someone like her as my girlfriend. It feels good to pretend for the short duration it’ll last. And the pit in my stomach knowing this is going to end sooner than I’d like isn’t the least bit surprising to me. Despite our frequent clashes, I’ve had a crush on her for as long as I can remember. The way she can cut someone down at the knees is admirable. Combined with the fact that she’s as transparent as you can get, always knowing what’s going on in her head, chalked full of unrelenting confidence. She’s the epitome of strength, inside and out.

The awareness that she doesn’t feel the same is what has always stopped me, then and now. She’s always had a reason for hating me, and despite us both growing, changing, and maturing into adults, it only seemed to slightly dull her hatred for me. Only difference now is we’ve gone from fighting over the rules of Monopoly to who made the other come better.

We walk up a few steps into the square, tall, brick building. It’s the biggest event hall in Havenbrook, embodying the town’s overall aesthetic: small-town charm with an old, but not quite vintage, vibe. The exterior is composed of red brick, with rows of yellow roses neatly lining the building’s perimeter. Inside, a large open room greets us, with scuffed wood floors from the countless town gatherings over the years. The full curtains drape the windows—reminiscent of styles from four decades ago—and floor-to-ceiling mirrors cover more than half the walls, giving an illusion of even more space. Artificial pine garlands are strung along the walls, adding a festive touch, while a Christmas tree stands proudly in the corner, its lights twinkling softly in the dim room.

As soon as we walk in, I feel all eyes turn on us, more specifically on Layla. Glancing down at her, she gives me a knowing smile. She’s fully aware that we’ve captured the attention from the majority of my coworkers. Instead of backing down, she stands up a little taller, and pastes on a confident smile. She’s prepared either for battle or to make a good impression, I can’t be sure. All I know is that she’s ready, and that the run-in with her father didn’t fully knock her down. Even though I wanted nothing more than to sock him square in the face for all he’s done.

Almost immediately, my best friend and coworker, Cody, walks over. We were hired in together and attended the same fire academy, solidifying our friendship over the several months of training. He’s my exact opposite in every way. He’s on the shorter end with sandy blond hair and emerald green eyes that he knows charm people to death.

“Hey, what’s up?” He smiles at me, before extending his hand out to Layla. “I’m Cody.” As they shake hands, he respectfully eyes her with appreciation. In all fairness, you’d have to be dead to not appreciate someone as easily gorgeous as her.

“This is my girlfriend, Layla,” I tell him. As soon as her name is out of my mouth, it dawns on me that he knows who she is. And I know I’ve thoroughly fucked up.

He chokes on a sip of his drink. “ The Layla?”

She looks between the two of us with clear amusement. “That bad, huh? What’d he tell you? That I’m the devil incarnate?”

“Not exactly. Nothing bad.” Cody’s eyes slide to mine. “Wow. So when did all this happen? You hadn’t mentioned anything about having a girlfriend.”

Jumping in before I have the chance to ruin our charade, seeing as I’m a horrible liar and Cody knows me too well, Layla responds, “It’s new. I just came back into town and…” She runs her hand up the front of my chest. Her fingers touch the buttons of my shirt, pretending to be infatuated with me—so much so that even I’m buying it. “We came to the conclusion that after all these years of fighting it, it was time to go for it.”

Cody nods, looking at me as he suspiciously takes a long sip of his beer. “Well, I’m sure Ben here is a happy man seeing as he’s been in lo?—”

“In not a great place lately,” I jump in, cutting off his line of thought. This was about to get awkward really damn quickly, if it already hasn’t. She can’t know that I’ve never hated her all these years. And she definitely can’t know that I would have jumped at the smallest of opportunities to be with her if she had so much as opened the door a slight crack. With my arm still around her, I steer us to the drinks table to get away from my best friend who’s over there spilling my secrets left and right. “We’ll catch you later. Going to go grab a drink and say hi to everyone else.”

With a knowing smirk, Cody lifts his chin. “Sure thing.” He knows I’m running away because of his loose lips. While he’s skilled in fire tactics, he definitely isn’t great at keeping a secret.

On our short walk to the bar set up in the corner of the room, we’re stopped by several more people. I’m well-liked around the department, but not this liked. Everyone wants to see my date. In a room full of people, she’s always been a stand out. It’s as if she emits a glow that makes it impossible to look away. An angel with the personality of a savage—the exact reason why I’ve been secretly infatuated with her for years. I know deep under those armored layers she has a soft center. It’s why she keeps her walls up and guards them with the ferocity of a small army. She wants to remain impenetrable.

But I’ve seen her empathy and generosity. I remember how she stuck up for anyone when we were in high school, and made it her own personal agenda to defend those that were bullied, taking them under her wing. I’ve heard the stories from her mother, of her taking countless pro-bono cases for women in abusive relationships that are trying to escape. All the volunteer efforts. The food pantry donations.

Layla Reed has the heart of an altruist—a quality she keeps hidden, which only makes it all the more admirable.

We finally get to the bar, where I order a soda, wanting to refrain from drinking alcohol. I already spiraled and drank myself into a depressed hole once before. And then yesterday was yet another example of why I shouldn’t drink—even though my brain was foggy, I remember clear as day the way her thighs trembled from my touch, and the tiny inhale of surprise when I first licked her. It’s best to keep my brain clear or else I run the risk of making more bad decisions where she is concerned. Even if I do want nothing more than to make those same mistakes with her, again and again and again.

Following my lead, she also orders a non-alcoholic drink—a Shirley Temple. Maybe we’re both aware that we can’t cloud our judgment for a second time.

She sees me staring at her, and quirks an eyebrow in response. “What the hell are you staring at?”

I shake my head, not knowing if I should tell the lioness of a woman that she looks adorable holding a drink beloved by many children. “Nothing.”

“Spit it out. I’m nosey.”

She bites one of the cherries off the stem, her soft lips wrapping around it before using her teeth to pluck it off the stem in the process. The simple action looks so fucking sexy that it takes everything in me not to groan as my dick throbs in agreement. I can guarantee that if I turned around I’d find ten other sets of eyes glued to her mouth and that damn cherry. “I just didn’t expect you to order a Shirley Temple, that’s all. It’s cute.”

“If you think this is cute, you need to get out more. Go visit a litter of kittens or something.”

I huff out a laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Christmas music fills the room, one of the popular upbeat classics that I’ve heard on a loop for the last three decades of my life. Most of the room drunkenly heads to the dance floor, as we sit on our respective barstools, people-watching like it was our sole intention for coming here tonight.

She stares out into the crowd, watching everyone busting out their worst dancing. “So, these are your coworkers, huh? Sure seems like a rowdy bunch.”

“They can come on a little strong, but they’re like family.”

“So you enjoy working here?”

“I like the people.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

I blow air between my lips, attempting to find the right words without sounding like a complete tool. “I had always dreamed of going and working for a bigger department. In Havenbrook, most days we’re just sitting around the firehouse. I’d like to do more than that.”

“Well, do it then. Go apply to bigger departments.”

“I did. I was actually supposed to interview for the Seattle Fire Department. I had been applying for years. But the timing now…”

Realization washes over her as to why I don’t exactly want to simply up and leave. Taking a sip of her drink, she crosses her legs and bounces one black stiletto heel in thought. “Life sure is one giant buzzkill, huh?”

“Nah. It’s not all bad.”

With a raised eyebrow, she gives me a skeptical look.

“I’ll make it through. It’s going to hurt like hell when we lose him, but hard now doesn’t mean hard always.”

“And here I thought this would be the wake up call that would make you as bitter as me.”

“No one could be as bitter as you,” I tease, throwing her my most charming smile.

She moves to playfully slap my thigh, but as her fingertips graze my leg, I catch her hand, holding it gently in mine and intertwining our fingers. Her eyes scan my face with a mix of emotions—curiosity, contemplation, and eventually acquiescence. I had fully anticipated her to tell me to fuck off, but she doesn’t. She keeps her hand in mine, like we’ve done this countless times before. Like she wants to too.

My thumb strokes the delicate skin of her inner wrist, and I want more. I want to be consumed by her if it’s the last thing I do. Not only because I’ve known her for decades and love every part of her. Not because she’s more beautiful than any other woman I’ve seen before. And not just because she commands the attention of a room like she was born to do it.

Layla is different. She’s dependable, as if her very existence relies on it. She knows exactly what she wants and will fight to the death to get it. And underneath it all, she has a heart bigger than any other person I know.

In the chaos of people laughing and yelling over the music around us, she lies her head on my shoulder. I soak her in. This feeling. This honor of having a tiny vulnerable piece of her resting on me. We sit there, watching the drunken, festive crowd, while we sit under our own dark and thunderous rain cloud of unfortunate events. Wallowing in it. Feeling every single thing together.

The opening notes of “All I Want For Christmas is You” by Mariah Carey begins blasting from the dusty speaker in the corner.

“I hate this song so much,” she groans.

“Me too.” Rising from my barstool, I keep hold of her hand, gently pulling her up with me. She resists, her body going limp like a noodle, but there’s a spark of amusement and curiosity in her eyes. To her, I’m unpredictable, and I think she likes it.

I kiss the top of her hand. “Dance with me?”

Her tall heels click on the wooden floor as she steps closer, and together we make our way to the edge of the dance floor.

With a gentle grasp on her waist, I draw her closer until our bodies meld together, her hips aligning snugly against mine. Even with the extra inches her heels give her, she feels so small in my arms. She reaches up to loop her arms around my neck, struggling slightly with our mismatched heights. “You’re too tall.”

“And you’re too short,” I reply, towering over into her space. My fingers drag up the column of her spine as a shiver rushes over her.

We exchange a smile, relaxing into each other as we sway side-to-side at a much too slow tempo for the upbeat song. I was worried we’d feel awkward, but nothing with her is awkward. She’s familiar like a favorite book—you know it front to back, yet each time you read it, you discover something new. Something you love that you had never taken the time to notice before.

Her fingers comb through the ends of my hair at the nape of my neck, and I have to resist the urge to let my eyes roll back in my head. As she absent-mindedly touches me, she glances around at my coworkers, who are eyeing us from across the room. “You know, we’re really convincing as a fake couple. I think they totally believe it.”

Of course they do. This feeling is not so fake for me anymore. Every action has been fueled by the very real want and need to feel close to her.

“And how’s that make you feel?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“You know. Indifference doesn’t exist in you.”

Her mouth tips up, amused, like she’s been caught red-handed. She forgets that I know her better than anyone. “It’s strange, but good strange.”

A wave of relief washes over me. She isn’t completely off-put by the idea of being with me. My eyes dip to her lips, and I want nothing more than to kiss her, to feel her mouth on mine and the live wire of electricity that arcs between us, connecting us on a deeper level than anything I’ve ever known. I take a deep breath and duck my head toward hers, ready to take a huge risk and go for it right here in front of everyone.

Right then, my dick of a boss slaps me on the back, with the most unfortunate timing. “Sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to come over and say hello.”

Layla and I take a step apart, his greeting snapping us out of our trance like a splash of cold water. As I make introductions and small talk with Chief Laurence, I slide my hand into hers to let her know this isn’t over. To signal that I want to stay wrapped up in our little bubble a while longer.

While we talk, his eyes keep drifting over to Layla. I want to smack him upside the head and tell him to keep his gaze on her face, not her breasts. He’s a horny old man, stocky and red-faced from years of heavy drinking, with the attitude of a former college jock who refuses to accept that his glory days are long gone.

After he makes the necessary polite inquiries about my grandpa’s health, he finally gets to the main reason he’s over here—Layla. “So, this is your girlfriend, huh?”

I nod, snaking an arm around her waist to make it crystal clear.

My boss huffs out a disbelieving laugh. “She’s a little out of your league, wouldn’t you say? You sure you can keep someone like her satisfied?”

It’s an undercut that he laughs off like a joke, but it’s all part of his usual act—making moronic statements and pretending they’re in jest, even though he’s dead serious.

Beside me, Layla’s eyes blaze, his comment sparking a fire in her. She’s locked and loaded, ready to take him on. “Sir, with all due respect, you know I’m right here and can hear everything you’re saying, right? And not that it’s any of your business, but he keeps me plenty satisfied.”

Chief Laurence licks his lips as if he’s eyeing a steak dinner. “Whatever you say, sweetheart. You let me know when you need a real man though, yeah?”

I take a step forward, ready to punch the bastard. Enough is enough. Being head of the department doesn’t give him the right to treat people with blatant disrespect.

But Layla follows me, stopping me from hitting my boss by leaning into my body. Her hand caresses my chest as she molds herself to my side.

“Ben is more man than you’d ever wish to be. In fact, he’s hands down the best I’ve ever had. And I’d appreciate it if you stopped staring at my tits and also showed your employees some fucking respect.”

With that, she grabs my hand and drags me away as we make a run out the side exit door. We leave Chief Laurence standing there, stunned that someone finally had the guts to stand up to him—especially a petite redhead in a skin-tight dress.

As soon as we step into the chill cold night, we start busting up laughing about the apparent midlife crisis my boss is in the middle of.

With a hand swiping down my face, I look over at her. “You’re amazing.”

She stands, hugging her arms and shivering. The yellow-tinted streetlight bathes her in an ethereal glow, making her look almost angelic.

“Eh, someone had to do it. I didn’t want you to get fired for fighting him.”

“I’ll never forget the look on his face.” We’re both panting from laughter as the reality of being alone hits us. It’s just the two of us in the cold parking lot, swallowed by the dark, with only the spotlight of the buzzing street light. She shivers again and I don’t want to leave this moment, but I also don’t want her to freeze. Walking toward her, I unzip my jacket and drape it over her shoulders. It’s so large that it hangs like a dress, the sleeves nearly reaching her knees. “You look like you need this.”

“Thanks.” She looks down at the jacket and back up to me. “I meant what I said in there you know.”

Her words hit me dead in the chest, impaling me with a warmth and brightness that swells in my ribcage until it’s bursting. I don’t have the words to ask questions, or the ability to articulate exactly how much she means to me. All I can do is show her.

Taking a step forward, I grab her waist, walking us back until she’s pressed against the brick wall. With nowhere to go, she arches herself into me, her body language a plea for more. My hand slides up her neck, slow and deliberate, until it entwines in the copper hair at the base of her skull. She takes a tiny inhale, and that’s when my mouth crashes into hers.

In that instant, everything changes. My whole world transforms from dark to bright the instant we connect. Our tongues swirl, sparking urgency between us. The nip of her teeth bites into my bottom lip in a desperate frenzy. This line between us for the last three decades completely dissolves like salt in water. My head is dizzy with want, every sense overwhelmed by her. The taste of grenadine and cherries. The feel of her hands tangling in my shirt to pull me closer. The small moan that’s barely audible, but enough to let me know she’s as lost in this as I am.

When she rocks her body against my erection, it takes everything in me to not lift that skimpy little dress up to her waist. I break the kiss, my mouth traveling up her neck. Nipping at her collar bone, tongue tasting her soft skin as she tilts her head for me to reach more. She’s greedy, and touch-starved for something real, and I want to give her everything she’s ever wanted and more.

Her hands fumble at my zipper, trying to let me loose. But I grab her wrist, pinning it on the cold brick above her head. “You better be careful. I’m two seconds from fucking you against this alley wall.”

“Fuck me.” She writhes underneath me, her body squirming to make as much physical contact with my own as possible. “Please.”

Unable to resist, I reach beneath the short hem of her dress, pushing past her thong and dipping my fingers into her. “Fuck.” I work her wetness in and out with a finger before spreading it in a circle onto her clit. “Do you know how much I want inside this pussy?”

She pushes against my hand wanting more. “Then do it.”

“Not here—not in a dirty, freezing parking lot.”

She begins to protest, but I stop her—my mouth landing on hers roughly, absorbing the words of opposition. When I break away, my voice comes out in a gravelly whisper. “When I fuck you for the first time, I plan to do it the right way. I’m going to take my time, until you’re begging to come.”

Maybe we both know it’d be me trying not to come the entire time. But there are a million dirty things I want to do to her, and I plan to do every single one of them.

Right as I’m about to ask if she wants to come back to my house, my phone rings in my back pocket. I ignore it, as I continue to kiss and touch her, reveling in the way her hands slip under my shirt, trying to touch as much of me as she can. When my phone rings a second time, a red flag goes up in my mind. It’s what has me pulling back, as she groans in disagreement. I take in the sight of her—all wild hair, swollen lips, and sparkling eyes. But when I see the name flashing on my screen, and the multiple texts I somehow missed, my heart drops.

I can feel the blood rush out of my face as my world seems to come crashing down. She instantly knows something is wrong, and hugs my waist in support while I take the call.

“Hello? Dad?”

“Sorry to interrupt the party, but I wanted to let you know that Mick was just admitted to the hospital.” I hear his voice crack, and it makes my own eyes sting with tears. “I think you need to come here. As soon as you can.”

“Okay.” My own voice sounds foreign to my ears. It sounds hollow, mimicking my current state.

Only minutes ago, I felt happy and full and excited for the things to come. Then I got too caught up in it, and reality came crashing down like a fucking avalanche.

Reaching into my pocket, Layla fishes my keys out and grabs my hand, leading me to the car.

As she walks to the driver’s side, I snap back into reality. “I can drive.”

“No. Let me do this. You’re not in a good headspace to be behind the wheel right now.”

It’s no use protesting because I know she won’t change her mind. And deep down, I know she’s right. There’s no way I can focus on the road when all I can think about is how my grandfather is slipping away from us.

I’m wrapped up in my spiraling thoughts throughout the drive, the only thing keeping me grounded is her small hand in mine. The determined look on her face, illuminated by the passing headlights, shows me she’s piecing together a plan of action. But not even the woman I’ve been in love with for years can stop my heart from breaking at the thought of losing one of the most important people in my life.