Page 114 of Collision
Chapter twenty-eight
Ben
“We’re going to get caught.”Mikaela is giggling as I wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her closer to me. The wind is still, but there’s a bitterness in the air and the lavender dress she’s wearing is thin silk against her skin.
“Jamie’s out of town, Mik. For the rest of the week.” I stop walking, shrugging out of my jacket and earning grunts and complaints from people who have to move around us on the busy sidewalk, before wrapping it around her. “I refuse to hide in your apartment for another three days.” I lean in, my lips a breath away from hers, and smile. “I want to show you off a little, Mik. Let me?”
As she kisses me I feel her step closer. She takes a steadying breath when she pulls away and glances to the people going about their evenings around us. My hands move to her cheeks, brushing her hair aside and holding her close.
“No one is looking, Mik.” I kiss her gently. “Stop worrying.”
The trill of my phone pulls us apart and Mikaela runs her fingers through the long waves of sun-kissed gold as she sighs. She’s nervous and it pinches at my heart.
“Hey.” I grin as she wraps her arm around my waist and pulls me to start walking again. “Yeah, we’re five minutes away. Have they seated you?” Mikaela glances up at me, a soft smile on her lips, and I wink. “No, go tell them the table is under my name. They should have asked you when you arrived.”
She steps a little closer as she makes space for a small family to sweep past us on the sidewalk.
“Yeah, she’s with me now.” I chuckle at his excitement. “Yes, she remembers you.”
She laughs when I roll my eyes dramatically.
“I can hear you grinning, Norman.”
His laughter is full of energy and enthusiasm and Mikaela smiles to herself at the sound of it, distant but clear.
Normanisglancingaroundthe restaurant as we enter, his eyes skimming over tables where families sit laughing and joking, and corner booths where teenagers share bowls of pasta and a bill their parents will probably wince at later.
As we approach the table, waving off the twenty-something year old waiter who seems far too keen to shed Mikaela of my jacket, he gets to his feet.
Time has been good to Norman. His eyes still glisten with troublesome youth and his smile is wide in the warmth of his features. His skin is worn by age, wrinkled and softened after years pulled a thin veil of wariness over him, but he stands tall and he speaks loudly. He is a man of pride and experience, and the light lift of his Dublin accent - never dulled by his decades here - drifts over the cacophony of patrons, welcoming me into the comfort of his presence as if I’m a troubled teenager all over again; desperately seeking some kindness.
“There’s my boy.” His hand claps against my shoulder as he pulls me into his embrace, holding me for a moment as he breathes in. Overwhelming comfort spills over me. It’s been too long since we last did this. “Let me look at you.”
Norman holds me at arms length, his eyes slowly running over my face, my arms, my shoulders. He drinks in the sight of me as a smile dances over his lips, before turning to where Mikaela is standing beside me.
Her eyes glance between us as she fidgets with the sleeves of my jacket and takes a deep breath.
Norman nods at her, but doesn’t move forwards. It’s like he reads her nerves perfectly and gives her the space to process the moment as she needs to. His voice is softer with her than it’s ever been with me. “I trust that you’re taking good care of my boy, Miss Wilcox?”
Her answering smile is shy and demure. It’s coy and I want to kiss the edges of it. I want to draw out her brilliance again.
Mikaela
Norman’s eyes are alight with suggestion and I feel my cheeks burn with my blush as I smile.
“I’m trying,” I admit sheepishly. Truthfully, in the week since Jamie’s party, Ben has had to take more care of me than I deserve. Especially when I cried after sex. In the days since, he has been attentive and gentle and so loving that my heart just keeps filling with more and more of him, even when the darkness creeps in again.
The fact Ben now knows about Matthew unwittingly unearthed memories that keep crawling into my dreams, twisting them into something dark and damaged, until I wake screaming. But Ben never asks what tears me from sleep. He never makes me explain. He just holds me. He cares for me. He loves me. And each night I keep the details hidden and locked away.
I keep keeping them from him.
“It’s so good to see you again, Missy.” Norman releases Ben from his grip and steps towards me, his arms outstretched.
Folding into him is easy and strangely familiar. In the years of him ferrying the boys around, I had very little to do with this man. He was always sweet and kind, but we spoke rarely. A brief memory of him smiling knowingly in the rear-view mirror from that night ten years ago pulls a small laugh from my lips as the scent of leather and pine mix around me. Norman is somehow a wash of soothing warmth and I hug him back with enthusiasm as one warm hand rubs firmly against my shoulder.
“Now, let me look at you.” Just as he had held Ben, he now holds me, pulling back as his hands splay gently over my shoulders and his eyes give me a once over. “Well, aren’t you a beauty!”
I drop my eyes as I laugh out an awkward thank you and Ben’s arms wrap around my waist as he pulls me back gently.