Their Freefall At Last by Julie Olivia

35

Bennett

I wasn’t thinking. I caught her when she was falling, and then the world shifted. Her waist was in my palms, just as it had been two years ago, and she was looking at me, just like she had in the sheets of that hotel room.

I pulled away as fast as I could, making sure Ruby got back to her car safely before cutting back through the woods.

Weakness is what it was. It was a moment with Ruby that I’d never thought we’d share again. I didn’t think we were still capable of heat and longing because I can’t—no, I don’t—long for Ruby.

I long for Jolene.

I want Jolene.

I’m excited to marry Jolene.

I unlock the basement door and shut it behind me, exhaling as I do.

I should not have been out there alone with Ruby. It’s never been a problem before, but now … now, it just feels inappropriate.

I love Ruby. I know I do, but it transformed into friendship love again. Something very different from the love I have with Jolene.

So, why did it feel weird tonight?

I ascend the stairwell, and I’m not even halfway in the kitchen before Jolene is asking, “That you, Bennett?”

I glance at the pasta bubbling on the stove, inhaling the smell of onions and garlic in the air.

“Yeah, just me,” I answer. “Smells good, Jo.”

But when she comes forward to kiss me, I feel guilty. Guilty for the nothingness that just happened between me and my best friend.

I return Jolene’s kiss, then place my hand on her waist, keeping her close. She beams up at me, such a beautiful smile with those bright red lips and shimmering hair.

“What?” she asks.

The odd pull in my stomach doesn’t want to be quiet.

“I hung out with Ruby,” I admit. “She got a job offer from Emory and was freaking out. I talked her through it.”

The moment I say it, even though it’s the truth, I know it wasn’t what she wanted to hear.

“Okay …” she says slowly.

“We were on that trail behind our house. You know, the tree we used to hang out at as kids?”

Jolene blinks. “Okay …”

And my gut clenches. Nothing happened. Not a single thing. But how do you explain a look, a glance, or a pulling feeling in your chest? How do you dissect that? Was that considered something?

“And I feel like I should tell you … something weird happened. I don’t really know what it was or why.”

Her jaw tightens. “What happened?”

And there’s the shimmer of something behind her eye once more. The rare one that suddenly doesn’t seem so rare now. I wonder how often she looks at me this way and I’ve never noticed. Or maybe I’ve ignored it. I wonder how many times it’s been because of Ruby.

“Nothing,” I say, holding my hands out. “Nothing at all. It was just a moment. I don’t know. She fell off the tree, and I caught her. It’s stupid, but I’d have felt uncomfortable if I didn’t tell you. Which I know sounds weird, but … yeah.”

She grinds her jaw and nods, shifting to stir the pot on the stove. She can no longer meet my eyes.

“But you felt the need to tell me, so …”

“I did.”

“Thanks for telling me. I guess.” Then, she rolls her eyes and huffs out a breath.

“What’s that?” I ask, nodding toward the invisible exhale between us.

She tongues her cheek. “I don’t really like that. That a ‘moment’ happened. Ruby’s nice, but … only if you break past her shell. And that’s kinda the problem. Only you can.” She snaps the wooden spoon on the side of the pot. “You’re her lifeline.”

I find myself crossing my own arms, so I uncross them. I don’t want to appear angry or upset because I’m not. Jolene is in the right here. It doesn’t matter if Ruby is my best friend; I was out in the woods alone with another woman because she needed my help. It looks terrible because it is terrible.

“I’m sorry,” I apologize.

Her jaw shifts. “Yeah, I really don’t like this,” she continues. “How you vent to each other. How she knows so much about you. All the experiences, the nostalgia wrapped up in it … God, like, how she’s met your dad and I haven’t.”

My stomach clenches. That hasn’t been brought up since dinner a couple of months ago, and now, I know it must have been lingering ever since. Why hasn’t she brought it up again? Why now?

“She has,” I agree. “But that was a different time. A lifetime ago really. My dad and I don’t talk anymore.”

“But why?”

“It’s complicated.”

Her shoulders drop. “Maybe it’s not though. Maybe you need to—”

But I don’t know what she was close to saying because we both pause when wheels rumble down the driveway and crumble over the backyard gravel. Bright car lights shine through the window.

Jolene leans back, pulling the kitchen curtains to the side.

It’s Ruby’s car. My heart drops.

Bad timing, Rubes.

Jolene’s head whips over to me. “Why is she here?”

Something about the way she says it has my back stiffening. The vitriol spouting from her lips at just the sight of my best friend shouldn’t make me defensive, but it does.

Ruby closes her car door, and the autumn leaves crackle beneath pink Converse. They aren’t the same ones from high school, but she keeps buying similar styles because Ruby doesn’t veer from what she likes. She never has. She’s not a risk-taker.

The basement door clicks with the sound of her key.

“I’m tired of this,” Jolene says, holding her hands in the air. “I am.”

“Tired of what?”

“You know what, Ben.” The name is like a spit of venom. A shot to the chest.

“What the—why—” I rub the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger.

I’ve never heard Jolene’s voice switch like this—from something so sweet to something harsh, bordering on mean.

I try to find the words, but all I have is, “Don’t call me that.”

“Ben is the name of a man,” she barrels on. “Not some boy, still in love with his best friend.”

Heat rises from my stomach up to my neck and face.

A boy, still in love with his best friend.

I feel stuck to the spot, like I just stepped in quicksand. I can tell from the pointed glare on Jolene’s face that it doesn’t matter what I say next. I’ll still be steadily sinking into the floor inch by inch.

“Jolene, you’re crossing a line,” I say, my tone even and low.

I want to disagree with her so bad. But she’s right. I do still love Ruby. It’s different though. Doesn’t she know that? It’s friendship. I love Jolene in a relationship way.

It’s different.

It’s different.

“I call bullshit. And you’re being irrational if you think otherwise.”

“Irrational?” I ask with a disbelieving laugh.

“Yeah. Do you remember what I said the first day we met? I’m not the waiting kind.”

My eyes dart between hers. The realization that, even though I don’t know what’s coming next, it sounds all too familiar.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.

She shrugs. “It means you either love me or you don’t.”

“You know I do.”

Jolene leans all her weight toward me and pokes me in the chest. “Then, prove it.”

A small chink in her strong armor finally peeks through as she shakes her head side to side.

I could crumble to the ground right there.

This tough woman stands before me, putting her heart on the line, thinking I’m making her wait. I am no better than my dad.

But I have the engagement ring upstairs. I have every intention of proposing. If only she knew.

She leans back and parts the curtains again, looking at Ruby’s car and sniffing out, “She’s still here.”

I take a step forward, running a hand through her soft hair. “I’ll go talk to her, okay?”

Jolene doesn’t respond, shifting away from me before turning back to the stove. Her wooden spoon harshly breaks apart the hardened pasta in the water.

Every stab is filled with force—the same force that accused me of being in love with another woman.

But the idea of still being in love with my best friend tugs at my chest, like a long-lost secret. A tap on the shoulder. A wink. A whisper.

I do though.

That little whisper doesn’t sit right with me.

But it’s not the same love I have for Jolene. Jolene isn’t just my other option simply because my best friend doesn’t want marriage. Jolene is feisty and fun and headstrong.

But she’s also right.

I do love Ruby. And I can’t anymore, no matter how different it is.