Infinitely

  All I’m capable of is a nod. Who is this guy? How the hell does he know this?

  “Thanks, Benji. I appreciate it.” Dad turns to me. “I want you to go keep an eye on Flynn. I need to talk to Benji alone.”

  That sounds ominous. I take the steps two at a time in my hurry to get away.

  ~*~

  I’m not sure when exactly I fell asleep, but I wake up to hushed voices. And I immediately understand what a mistake it was to nap in the chair with my upper body resting on the bed next to Flynn. Pushing myself up, I try to stifle my gasp of pain.

  Flynn’s still asleep—or unconscious, I guess—but his color is better. I place my palm to his forehead, checking for fever.

  “He’s doing better,” Benji says quietly and I nearly jump out of my seat. Jaxon laughs at me, his dimples making an appearance. I ignore him and try to get up, but damn does it hurt.

  “Here.” Benji extends cupped fingers to me and drops a pill into my hand. “For the pain.” I place it on my tongue and take the glass he hands me next. “It’s pretty strong so I wouldn’t suggest going far.”

  It’s not like I forgot, but looking at Flynn brings back this afternoon and I feel my entire body convulse. Poor Flynn. He’s lost everything. His parents, their home, their way of life. I take his hand, running my fingers over the rough calluses.

  “Why did this happen?” I don’t direct the question to anyone in particular—hell, I don’t even expect a response—so it surprises me when Jax answers.

  “They’re here for us.”

  “What?” I whisper.

  Benji drops his head into his one hand and Jax shakes his head slowly. “Mom got mixed up into some shit and…it killed her.” Jax replies. “Bad shit, Bri. Really bad shit. She owed this guy, Delphi, money. Her debt rolls onto us.” He lets his hand fall into his lap and shakes his head. “Only, we can’t pay. We don’t have jack-shit. So we ran.”

  I don’t understand. I know I’m not getting anywhere close to the whole story. “What does that have to do with Flynn’s family?”

  Benji lifts his head, his eyes focused on Flynn’s face. “I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense. The only reason I can think of is Flynn and I talked sometimes,” he says, his eyes hooded with regret. “It wasn’t often, but his number was in my contacts. The night…the night they came for Mom, they took my phone. Maybe they found his number and looked him up?”

  I’m trying to get past the part where Flynn and Benji talked. I never knew that. Flynn never told me. He never even told me he knew where Benji was. I know this isn’t the time to focus on that, but it’s still there. The betrayal burns in my chest.

  “Did you recognize them?” I ask Jaxon. “Were those the guys?”

  He shakes his head, unsure. “Delphi, he has people on his payroll everywhere.”

  “Delphi’s guys follow a ‘no one left alive’ clause,” Benji states. “Three shots.” He touches a finger to his head. “One to the head.” He brings the finger down to his chest. “Two to the heart. Flynn was shot once—in the back. It was unorganized. Sloppy. My guess, these were outside hires. Probably dirty cops.”

  Dirty cops actually exist? “Why cops? I don’t understand.” The police are supposed to protect and serve. Not murder and pillage.

  “This goes so deep, Briar. The less you know the better.”

  It’s a little too late for that now. “Would dirty cops drive all the way from California? That seems pretty damn risky.”

  Benji’s eyebrows furrow as he stares at me, crinkling in confusion. “We never made it to California. Didn’t Flynn tell you?”

  “Tell me what?”

  I watch Benji’s face roll through one emotion after another before he pulls it back in. “We’ve been in Michigan—Detroit. We stopped there to meet up with one of Mom’s friends and never left.”

  “Never had the money to leave,” Jax adds.

  I close my eyes, fighting off the fierce stab of Flynn’s betrayal. “He never told me,” I breathe. Benji’s eyes are on me again. I can feel their weight as they slide over my face, soaking in every feature. I wish I knew what it is he sees when he looks at me like that. What he’s thinking.

  “How much money?” I ask. I have my savings, my college fund. It’s theirs. Hell, if they can make this go away, protect themselves, they can have everything I own.

  Jax laughs without humor. “Way too damn much.”

  “I have money,” I insist. “I can help.”

  Benji smiles weakly at me. “We don’t want you involved in this anymore than you already are. It wouldn’t be enough anyway.”

  “How do you know? How much do you need?”

  “Do you think people are dying over candy money?” Benji asks. “Just let it go and stay out of it.”

  “If you can’t tell, I’m already in it,” I hiss.

  Benji glares at Jaxon for several seconds, his nostrils flaring. “You weren’t supposed to be.”

  “Too damn late,” I state. Benji watches me, his eyes boring into mine, and making me feel dizzy. “Give me a number.”

  He chuckles darkly. “Half a million.”

  “Dollars?” I ask stupidly, but seriously. What the hell?

  “No, acts of kindness,” Benji deadpans. “Yes, fucking dollars. And it doesn’t matter anyway. At this point, Delphi doesn’t want the money. He wants my balls on a silver fucking platter. Can you help with that?”

  “She’s just trying to help,” Jax mutters. “Don’t be a dick.”

  “I agree,” I add. We stare at each other—Benji and I—our eyes locked, and something in his gaze is unsettling, but before I can put my finger on it, a wave of nausea hits. The room spins and suddenly my head feels much too heavy for my neck to support.

  “Something’s wrong,” I whisper. My voice sounds far away and it scares me. I try to stand, but I seriously forget how to make my legs work. Something about this is so funny to me. I try not to laugh because we were in the middle of a very serious and morbid conversation, but the harder I try to fight it, the more I want to laugh.

  “I think the pain pill kicked in,” Jax says with a chuckle, which releases my repressed giggles. They spill out of me like a bursting dam. I blink slowly, his image blurring in and out of focus.

  “Little Benji,” I sigh. “You make me laugh.” I nearly fall off my chair. Jax grips my arm, keeping me upright. His smile sags into a frown.

  “This isn’t normal. She’s acting drunk.” He casts a worried look at Benji who’s already moving over to me.

  “I probably should have cut it in half.”

  “She hasn’t eaten all day,” Jax says. “Should I get her some food?”

  “Yeah, that should help. Get her some juice too,” Benji orders.

  “You drugged me,” I laugh. “I’m not in as much pain though.” Then I look down at Flynn and I’m so incredibly sad. The humor dies in my throat. “Is he in pain? I don’t want him to be in pain.”

  “No, Bri. He’s all right, I promise.”

  I sniffle. “Are you sure? I’ve hurt him so much.”

  Benji fixes his eyes on me. “I’m sure. He doesn’t feel anything right now.” I try to stand and this time I make it. For about five seconds. The room spins again and I stumble, catching myself on the bed, which apparently I find hilarious because I’m in a fit of giggles again. And feeling horrendously guilty over it. How can I find anything remotely funny after what happened today? Something is very wrong with me.

  Benji takes my hand, helping me stand. The warmth of his grip causes me to shiver as memories flash through my mind. I sway and he holds me tighter. “I think it may be safer if you’re in your own room.”

  “I like my room,” I say slowly, my words slurring. “My bed is soft.”

  “Uh-huh.” He doesn’t let go of me until I’m sitting on my bed. I bounce up and down and he laughs quietly, lowering himself onto the bench at the foot of my mattress. It’s so good to see him laugh. Before I even consider what I’m doing, I care
ss my thumb over one of his dimples, my fingers embracing his jaw.

  Both of our laughter subsides immediately. I drop my hand into my lap. “You got my note,” I guess.

  He swallows and his Adam’s apple moves in his throat. I have the sudden urge to touch that, too, so I do. My fingers graze it gently and he catches my hand causing my stomach to flip-flop like butterflies doing summersaults. “Yes.”

  “You didn’t send one back.” We’re staring again. Normally I would be nervous, but right now all my inhibitions ran off, leaving me to fend for myself.

  His voice is so warm and inviting when he says, “I wanted to.” He still has my hand pinned to his chest. I can feel his heart beating against my palm. I move closer.

  “Then why didn’t you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I thought about you every single day, Benji. And not just like, ‘oh hey, I wonder how Benji’s doing.’ I thought about the way you made me laugh, our notes, the tree house.” I take a shaky breath. “Your eyes, your lips.” I pause, fixated on his mouth. I lick my lips and continue. “I thought about the way you used to kiss me, and the way I told you I loved you.” I shift away from him, staring down at my knees. “Is that why you wouldn’t talk to me? Because you don’t feel the same way? Because you have a girlfriend?”

  “Fuck, Briar,” he says, his voice low, raw.

  “There you are,” Jaxon sighs as he saunters over to the bed. He hands me a plate with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It’s my favorite. I focus on it, trying to decide if I’m hungry or not. “Eat. You’re too skinny,” he says as he sets a glass of orange juice on my nightstand.

  I glower at Jax. “You’re too judgmental.”

  “You’re too sensitive.”

  “You’re too mean.”

  “You’re too skinny.”

  “You said that already.”

  “Well I felt it needed brought up again. Eat your sandwich. Maybe if you had more meat on your bones you wouldn’t have broken your ribs.”

  “Maybe if you wouldn’t have tackled me, you big ox.” Now I can’t breathe because I’m cracking myself up again, picturing Jax with large, thick horns. I lie back on my bed, resting the plate on my stomach, and take a bite of the sandwich. It’s the best thing I’ve ever eaten.

  “Mmm, Jax. This is a masterpiece.”

  He plucks it from my hand and takes a bite, which I find stupid—even in my inebriated state—when he’s telling me to eat.

  “I’m an artist.” He hands it back to me and I finish it quickly before he can take it again. I roll over and the plate clatters to the floor. I try to reach for it and nearly fall over the side. Benji catches me around the waist, which hurts like hell, and I look up at him. I like his hands around me way more than I probably should, regardless of the pain they’re causing. Both physically and emotionally.

  “You should sleep, Briar,” Benji says, his voice like sand paper.

  I shoot up, setting off another dizzy spell, and nearly whack him upside the head. “I don’t want to be alone.” Please. Not after today. Don’t leave me alone.

  Jax and Benji exchange glances. “I’ll stay,” Benji says. He pulls me back to the bed and I sit heavily.

  “I don’t believe you.” I hug my pillow to my chest, the recollection of Benji leaving me three years ago playing fresh in my head.

  “Go talk to Grandpa and Megan,” Benji instructs Jax, who arches a brow. “I’ll be here until she comes down.”

  “See? I knew it,” I grumble. And then I realize what he just said. Grandpa and Megan. So that’s her name.

  “Good luck with that,” Jax mumbles, poking his finger in my direction as he backs out the door.

  “I promise I’ll stay as long as you want me to. All right?” Benji moves beside me on the bed and helps me lie back. He leans over me, propping himself on an arm. “You have jelly right here.” He touches the corner of his own lip and smiles.

  I want him to lower his mouth to mine and lick it off. I want that so badly I can’t think of anything else. I know I’m looking at him stupidly, but why can’t he read my mind and do it already? Worse, why do I want this from him when I know he doesn’t feel the same way?

  He wipes his finger over my lip, removing the jelly, and sticks it in his mouth to lick it clean. I sigh and force my eyes away. Benji stands up and I reach for him.

  “Please don’t go.”

  “I told you I’ll stay,” he says, removing my hand. He leans against the wall and slides down to the floor. “Get some sleep.”

  14

  Benji

  I watch her eyes fall shut and I just stare at her.

  I want to go back next door, lock myself in my room, and get fucked up. I want to take myself away from all this shit, if only for a little while.

  But the fact that I promised to stay—the fact that she needs me—keeps me rooted in place. She’s my map—my compass. Every route, every arrow, every road points to her. And so, my eyes remain fixed on her profile.

  When we were kids, I spent so much time in this room. Nights on this very floor, looking up at her like I am now. I smile, remembering.

  I was ten when I realized I had feelings for Briar. Real feelings. I didn’t love her like my sister. I didn’t love her like my best friend, though she was, in fact, my very best friend. I didn’t love her like my old dog, Henry. But I loved her. I was completely devoted to Briar.

  I had no clue what it meant until her eighth birthday when she punched me in the face as if she hated me, and then hugged me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.

  It all clicked into place that evening as I sat out on the porch, licking pink frosting off my dirty fingers. I didn’t like when Briar was mad at me. I couldn’t stand it when she cried. And I didn’t want to be on the receiving end of one of her punches ever again. But I would gladly let her hit me any time she wanted if it made her feel better. Especially if it ended in one of those hugs. Then I wondered if she had ever hit anyone else the way she did me. Or hugged them after. And the thought made me jealous and angry all at once.

  So as I sat there, searching for any last remnants of creamy frosting, I pondered how the idea of Briar punching another kid could get under my skin. And click. The little light bulb illuminated above my head and I realized, I didn’t want Briar to feel that strongly about anyone that wasn’t me. Because I wanted her to feel the same way I felt. And…I was in love with her. Not your ordinary puppy love. No hair pulling on the playground love, either. But real, true, once in a lifetime love.

  I was ten and I recognized that shit.

  And the most significant aspect was she knew it at eight.

  Maybe she hadn’t put it all together like I did, but she knew. She felt it.

  That’s why I ended up with a black eye and an aching heart.

  I close my eyes and sigh.

  We aren’t kids anymore. I wish to hell I could go back to that time, be young and carefree. But it’s never going to happen. That’s the thing about life—it keeps going on whether you’re ready for it or not. Sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s bad, but it always is.

  15

  Briar

  I slept like a baby—or like somebody who’s been drugged. Which is probably why I’m so disoriented when I wake. My room is dark, which is weird because the clock on my nightstand reads 7:04 AM. Upon quick examination, by which I mean I manage to shift my head a few inches, I realize the window is covered with a thick blanket.

  The room is uncomfortably stuffy with the window blocked. I shove my blanket off me and my whole side hurts from the movement. I suck air through my teeth and force myself to sit up, causing blood to rush to my head. My feet touch the plush carpet and I sway for a second as I notice the big heap on the floor by the wall. I sink back onto the bed.

  He stayed. All night. Just like he said he would. Images from the past come rushing up around me.

  Benji was standing at the base of the waterfall. The fine mist slowly soa
king his t-shirt, turning it from a light gray to a dark charcoal. I watched him raise the knife, face determined. “You ready?”

  “You don’t have to do this. I know you’ll come back.”

  He grinned at me, that lopsided smile that always drove me crazy. “Scared?”

  “No,” I said quickly. “I’ve never backed out of a pact. I won’t now. I just want you to know I believe you.”

  His face became serious, the smile fading. “I know you believe me. But this is our final pact. The most important one.”

  We stared at one another long enough for my stomach to pull tightly with yearning. I took the knife from his hand and gouged the fleshy part of my index finger. My eyes never left Benji’s. He mimicked my actions and we pressed our fingers together like we did when we were little.

  Benji took my finger, raising it very slowly, and put it in his mouth. His tongue slid over the gash, licking the remaining drop of blood. I was pretty sure I should be disgusted by this, but I wasn’t—not even a little. Doing the same, I took his hand in mine wrapping my lips around his bleeding finger. His chest heaved as his breathing deepened. There was a mild metal taste left on my tongue when he sluggishly pulled his finger away.

  “Since it’s our last…” I swallowed hard, trying to find the courage to say what I wanted so desperately to tell him. I shuddered, reminding myself of the few minutes we had left. “We need to seal it with a kiss.” Not what I really wanted to say, but maybe his mouth on mine would give me the nerve to tell him what I really wanted to.

  Benji didn’t say anything. Several seconds passed and I finally looked up at him. He was watching me, his eyes nearly glowing. And I realized he was waiting on me. He always liked me to kiss him first. I took a step closer, letting my body press into his as I stood on tiptoes. His arms encircled me and he lowered his head so I could reach his lips.

  Benji and I had shared kisses. Many of them. Full of love and hope. But this was different. This was goodbye.