Afterward Ben pulled me into his arms and we laid together so close that I swear he could breathe for me. And eventually, when my heart slowed down enough, when my mind emptied, when I was brave enough…

I began to tell him about my parents.

I told him what it was like living with a mother who was unstable and a father who slowly left us for a new love, a Russian bitch named vodka.

I told him about my mother’s weird love of knives and how she would threaten me and Matt when she was having a bad day. I told him about the water park I never got to visit, and how on my thirteenth birthday she left me and my friends to go get my cake from the bakery but didn’t come back.

I told him how Matt lived and breathed hockey—it was his escape—but I was the one left behind. The one who looked after mom when she’d been in bed for days without showering or eating.

I told him that she’d driven off a bridge and killed herself and my dad. I told him every single dark secret about my family, but I didn’t tell him mine. I couldn’t.

Ben held me. He showered me with his love, his heat and his goodness. I felt safe. I felt loved.

I let his warmth wash away the sins of my parents and swore that I would tell him the rest soon. I would tell him about my illness. I would tell him about the little pills I needed to take in order to function properly.

I would tell him that I wasn’t perfect. That I was damaged. I would tell him that for the first time since my diagnosis I felt hope.

I just needed to gather a little more courage and then I could say the word, the one I hated to say. The one that labeled me.

Bi-polar.

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Chapter Twenty-Five

Ben

My sister Eden thinks that I have horseshoes coming out of my ass. Mostly because I’ve pretty much excelled at everything I’ve ever tried. Hockey. Baseball. Guitar. Math. I was that guy. The one who aced all his classes, was captain of whatever team he played on and got whatever girl he wanted.

I never thought about it much because it was just the way things were. I was used to winning and I was used to getting what I wanted.

And what I wanted right now was Georgia King. But I didn’t want her for today or tomorrow or even next month. I wanted her for forever.

I was no longer horseshoe guy. I was that other guy. The one who would do anything for a girl. Hell, if Georgia asked me to shave my head or tattoo her fucking name on my body, I would. And everyone knows getting a name tattooed onto your skin was a bad idea.

But for her I would do it. For her I would wear pink with purple polka dots if it would give me the smile that I was looking at right now. For Georgia, I would do anything.

I’d taken her out for dinner and now it was time for her surprise.

“Happy birthday,” I said and then bent down to claim the mouth that had been driving me crazy all day.

A few wolf whistles rang out in the club but I didn’t care. Hell, I liked that fact that everyone could see she was with me. That she was mine. My girl.

When we touched the heat was unmistakable. It was intense and if not for the fact that we were in the middle of the crowded VIP lounge in Club NV, I would have had her out of the sexy black dress she wore and flat on her back.

I finally managed to drag my mouth from hers, though I kept my hands on her waist, kept her close and intimate.

Her hair fell over her bare shoulders just the way I liked, a little wild and a little messy. Her cheeks were flush, her lips swollen from mine, and her eyes—her eyes were fixed behind me and they wrong.

Wait. What the fuck was wrong?

“Hey,” I said carefully. “Is everything alright? I wanted to surprise you for your birthday and Kendall said that this band was one of your favorites.”

Had I screwed this all up?

Her eyes were on the stage downstairs. The band hadn’t taken the stage yet because the band was part of her surprise. Spleen. I’d never heard of them but I’d managed to get hold of her girlfriend and she’d said they were local and that they were one of Georgia’s favorites.

I’d made a few phone calls and turns out, the owner of the club was a huge Flyer fan. He booked Spleen for me and I thought they would keep that smile on Georgia’s face all night long.

Her brows furrowed and she chewed on her bottom lip which I knew meant she was either nervous or pissed.




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