He kicks the tire of the car, then he turns and heads to the other side of the car. “You coming?” he says, pointing to the passenger door.

“Yeah, but I’ll follow you.”

He shrugs and gets in his car. I’m wet and cold, so I turn the heater in my car on full blast. Following Ben to our house, his house now, feels so strange. It’s a short drive, but it feels like it takes forever. I’m facing a deluge of memories as we get closer to the house. Memories that haven’t surfaced in a long time. Flashes of our life together. Him as a young five-year-old blond-haired boy—making friends with me and playing with me in the sand. Him as a rebel teenager—the strong resilient adolescent who was with me when I heard the news about the plane crash that forever changed my life—the one that killed my parents and my aunt. Our first kiss and our first time together on the beach. Images flash through my mind of the church altar and the stained-glass window reflecting upon it when Ben came and found me and told me I would never be alone. He was always there for me. He was my rock.

Even though I’ve known that he’s alive for a while now, seeing him interact with Trent, I actually feel it. He’s here, right now, taking care of his nephew. Being the rock he always was. Somehow it’s enough for me to let go of my resentment. I’m able to forgive him for the choice he made and tears slide down my cheeks. The man who was my friend through everything isn’t gone and I suddenly feel relieved. As my negative feelings toward Ben dissipate and are replaced with happy memories of our unbreakable bond, I know what I have to do. I have to actually talk to him. Maybe accept his apology. Maybe even be his friend. I think I can do that. Grace was right—I owe him that much.

I know River won’t be happy that I’m here, but he’ll have to understand that I came for Trent, because of Trent. I also feel that by letting go of my anger toward Ben, it may ease the stress on my relationship with River. To be honest, I don’t think Ben is even the issue between River and me anymore; the issue is really our inability to communicate effectively.

Arriving at the yellow house with the white picket fence, I wipe away my remaining tears and take a deep breath. I can do this. I can do this for Trent. I can do this for Ben. With a newfound determination, I hurry out of my car and help Ben. We manage to get Trent into the house. Once we get him settled in bed, he mumbles something I can’t understand, then he seems to lose consciousness again.

Alarmed, I grab Ben’s arm. “Is he okay?”

Ben looks at my hand and then pulls the blanket over Trent. He nods his head before wistfully saying, “He will be, just give him some time.”

Ben walks into the bathroom and I stare at the broken boy lying in the bed. A sixteen-year-old with his whole life ahead of him. A young boy who loved cats and dogs now a teenager in need of help. As I leave the room, I’m hopeful he can overcome this because he has so many things to look forward to.

Closing the door behind me, I notice boxes everywhere. Ben must have decided to move back in. I walk out to the living room and I stand there shivering, soaked to the bone.

Following me out of the room, Ben hands me a towel and says, “Here, dry off.”

I take it and wrap the towel around my shoulders. He walks over to the fireplace and stacks some Sterno logs. As he lights them, they easily catch fire and I can feel their warmth from where I stand.

“I’ll be right back,” Ben says as he leaves the room.

Walking over to the desk that Ben must have taken from Grace’s attic, I use the house phone to call River, but there’s no answer. I don’t leave a message because I know telling him where I am on voice mail will only piss him off more.

Ben returns a few minutes later having changed. He looks like he always did—khaki shorts and a white T-shirt. I have to remind myself that everything that has happened was not a dream. My trance is broken by the awkwardness of the moment as he hands me a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants and says, “Here, put these on, so you’re not sitting here in wet clothes.”

Accepting the dry clothes, I go into the hall bathroom to change. I can’t help but think how strange it is to be here with him, in the house I shared with him for so many years. It used to be such a place of comfort but now everything is so different, and it feels unnatural to be here.

When I come out, I head toward the living room and drop my wet clothes near the door.

I can see that Ben’s reading something on his phone.

He looks up at me. “I have to find a facility to check Trent into immediately. Can you help me?”

“Sure, what can I do?”

He hands me his phone. “You could make a list of all the rehabilitation centers in Orange County and I’ll start calling them. I haven’t bought a new computer yet, but you can search for the numbers on my phone. It’s the one thing besides my journal I brought back with me from New York City. I think you even know the phone number,” he says with a weak smile.

Thoughts of him having to establish an entirely new life and then having to leave that life trigger something I never expected to feel for him again—sympathy. I haven’t really spent any time thinking about how all of this impacted him; I’ve been so focused on how his leaving affected me. Coming back here and starting over can’t have been easy.

We spend the next few hours trying to secure a spot for Trent. Once I’ve compiled the list, I leave Ben to the phone calls and go to check on Trent. I move my hand to his forehead and he stirs, mumbling something about money he owes. When I come back to the living room, Ben tells me he got Trent on six waiting lists at private centers.

Sitting on the couch, I throw my legs up, completely exhausted. Ben sits at the opposite end and stretches out his legs. Uncomfortable at the familiarity of the situation, I scramble to sit up. I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around my legs, resting my chin on them.

Smirking, he watches me as he absentmindedly rubs his arm.

“How bad is it? Did you go to the hospital?” I ask.

“Fuck no. Caleb just popped it back in place.”

I roll my eyes. “Of course he did.”

We sit in silence as I stare at the sling and then I have to ask, “When I checked on Trent he was mumbling that he owes people money again. Do you know who?”

Furrowing his brows he says, “I think he was selling and owes some dealers. When he’s more coherent I’ll find out who and how much and see what I can do to settle his debt.”

I let out a long silent sigh because there is nothing I can say to that. Trent suddenly yells and Ben rolls off the couch and hurries to check on him. When he comes back I ask, “Are you sure he shouldn’t be in the hospital?”

“Yeah Dahl, I am. I can do everything for him they can.”

“What do you mean?”

Sitting in one of the chairs he tells me, “When I was in New York I taught drug management and volunteered at a rehab center.”

“Really? What made you get into that?”

He looks at me, his blue eyes sad. “I had to find something to do that made me feel useful. I was looking for purpose and those kids needed someone. It worked.”

“Have you thought about what you’re going to do here?”

He props one elbow on his knee and hangs his head between them. Then he turns his head toward me. “No, I haven’t. I can’t do anything right now. First, I have to get my finances in order, reestablish my identity, and get through the legal proceedings. The frenzy will start once the press gets wind of the case and it will be hard to stay out of the public eye. I’m sure reporters will be hounding me. So until the trial is over, I can’t even think about what I’m going to do.”

At the glimpse of his pain, my heart sinks as I think of the life he has to rebuild and the hurdles he will have to jump to do so. I feel another sudden wave of sympathy. “I’m sorry, Ben. I had no idea.”

He takes in a deep breath and slowly blows it out. “This isn’t how I ever imagined we’d end up.”

“I know Ben, neither did I, but . . .”

He stops me midsentence. “Stop Dahl, don’t say ‘but’ yet,” he says with a frown.

Rising, he moves over to me. He sits on the coffee table and faces me. He grabs my hand. “I don’t know what I was thinking back then. Why I left you here. I want so much to take it all back. Do it differently. I know I handled everything wrong. But do you think you can forgive me?”

Pulling my hand away, I keep quiet, letting my silence answer for me. Just because I can have a conversation with Ben about his situation doesn’t mean I can forgive his actions; I’m just not sure I am ready to do that.

“I know this is hard for you, but I feel empty without you . . . I want to go back to where we were. Do you think you could try?”

“Ben, I’m sorry, but no. I’m with someone else now. We can’t change the events that led us to where we are.”

He looks away. He doesn’t say another word and neither do I. We both remain quiet for a few moments, and then when I stand up, he grabs my arm and bluntly asks, “Are you happy with him?”

I take a deep breath and answer his question honestly, knowing this is going to hurt him. “Yes, I’m happy. Really happy.”

He grabs for me again, this time pulling me to his lap. “Give us a chance. Give me another chance. I need you.”

At this point I’m staring at him openmouthed, then I jump up and shake my head back and forth. “Ben don’t do this. I just told you how I feel.”

“Come on, Dahl, it’s just the two of us here. Be honest. This is about us.”

My eyes narrow on him. “‘About us’? What do you mean ‘us’?”

“Fuck, Dahl, you know what I mean. We can start over right now. You could be happy with me, too.”

I look at him, he’s the same man he always was, and even though I know I no longer feel for him what I once did, making him understand that is difficult. But my expression must be enough of a reply because he gets up and crosses the room to look out the window.

Knowing that the difficult part is over, I address something that’s been on my mind. “Ben, can I ask you to do something for me?”

Turning around, he grins. “Sure, you know I’m always up for anything.”

I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes. “Can you please stop antagonizing River every time you see him? I really don’t appreciate you bringing up our past to my fiancé. It’s just not appropriate.”

A pained expression crosses his face. “That’s one thing I’m really not up for.”

I sigh, disappointed that Ben hasn’t changed a bit. Completely exasperated, I start toward the door, knowing it’s time for me to leave.

“Wait. Can I ask you something now?”

When I turn back, it’s with a forced smile. “Sure.”

He stands up straighter. Subtle, but still noticeable. “When did you meet him?”

“Why do you keep asking me that?”

“Can you just answer my question?”

My voice comes out low. “I met River one night while we were in college and we talked, but that was it. It wasn’t until last year that I saw him again. Aerie sent me to do an interview.”

I glimpse disappointment on his face. “Makes sense,” is all he says and I don’t ask why. Feeling uncomfortable with this discussion, I look out the window and see that it’s starting to get dark. “Shit, what time is it?”

He looks at his watch. “It’s six. Why?—do you have a curfew?”

Deciding it’s best to ignore his sarcasm, I just say, “I need to leave. Are you going to be okay here with Trent?”

“Yeah Dahl, I think I can handle it.”

“You’re going to call Serena tonight? Right?”