This was meant to be a philanthropic mission. This was meant to be about doing something good. And every step seems to make it harder.
I’m not sure ‘okay’ is even in my vocabulary anymore.
All I’ve ever wanted to do is give people somewhere to rest when they’ve been given the most gut-wrenching diagnosis of their lives. Provide a space for families to grieve in safety. Be a rock in choppy waters. But all that seems to happen is more hatred getting piled on top.
Every negative result I’ve ever had is being shouted for all to hear. The thousands of positive ones, the patients I’ve helped, fade into the chaos. Leaving only the tortured souls behind. The ones I couldn’t save.
Ben glances out of the window, and my gaze follows his.
The signs continue to bob up and down, furious faces a sea beneath.
Opengate kills.
Cole chooses whether you live or die.
His eyes come back to me, heavy with something I can’t quite name. My walls threaten to drop, needing his comfort as muchas I hope he needs mine. But I stay where I am; needing people only gets you hurt.
“I don’t know how they knew about us, Antonia,” he says. “Even if there is an us. It was one meal. One date. One kiss.” He pauses. “But I liked it.”
My feet threaten to push me upward; I will them to stay put. Ben beats me to it. He steps forward, then leans down, his lips touching my forehead. My eyes close, enjoying the proximity. His fingers trail across the back of my hand.
“I really liked it,” he whispers.
My body turns toward him, chin tilting upward. We’re left staring, millimeters apart. His breath hits my lips, my mouth reaching for his. Every nerve on fire. We almost connect, and the door handle rattles.
Someone tries to push it open, but the bolt holds. More cheers erupt outside. Ben chuckles, his forehead dropping to mine.
“Kiss me,” I say, needily. “Before they all appear.”
His smile widens, and he drops one on my nose. Sweet. Chaste. A promise for later. Then he strolls over, unhurried, and unlocks the door.
It flies open, and Julian storms in, cheeks red, chest puffed.
“What are you doing locking the door?” he snaps. “It’s crazy out there.”
“And whose fault is that?” Ben shoots back.
I try not to laugh. Somewhere in this ridiculous day, where people hate me, the man I kissed last night stands across the room, and the man who invites the press is shouting about protesters—everything collides.
And all I can do is laugh.
Because if I didn’t laugh…
I’d cry.
Julian bristles. No one likes being called out for their part in this nonsense. He wanted PR, and he got it. You don’t get to choose when it leaves.
“Who are we expecting today?” I ask him.
He looks at me as if I’ve just asked the time of day.
“I sent it in the email.”
“I didn’t read it.”
“The entire board,” he replies. His face looks like I slapped him. “It’s an updated site meeting. They want to see everything we’ve achieved in the past few weeks. I’ve told them the buildings are now watertight. We’re on schedule for a June opening.”
“We are,” Ben says. “We’re on schedule.” He glances at me before continuing. I hope the heat in my face doesn’t show. “But it would be nice to know what’s expected of us today. I don’t want to be thrown into an impromptu press conference again.”