Benjy doesnât call her the next night or day-and the phone doesnât ring.
Itâs shifted between them, and though he canât put his finger on it, something of him tells him Cleona picked up that heâd been lying when heâd told her heâd forgotten what heâd wanted to say.
Benjy just really hopes she also didnât pick up on the truth.
Heâs almost to napping when the phone rings, and were anyone in the room to see how quickly Benjy snaps to attention, itâd be embarrassing. He clears his throat before he picks up the receiver.
Maybe nothing was weird and Benjy was just reading into things-wouldnât be the first time. Maybe last night was just a busy one at the bar or she had a test or-
âHi.â The sound of Moodyâs voice on the other end of the line pops the hope in Benjyâs chest like a cheap balloon.
âNot who you were expecting?âÂ
Benjy detests the smugness in his friendâs voice.
âNo...just surprised. I donât get many phone calls.â
The way his former partner scoffs lets Benjy he doesnât believe him, but Al doesnât push.Â
âShacklebolt was er, talking about your nurse. How pretty she is.âÂ
A surge of possessiveness rips through him and Benjy forces himself to keep his breathing steady.
âThrilling news, Al. Is that all?âÂ
âYou know thatâs not bloody all. When are you going to stop fucking around, Benjy? Youâre clearly mad for the girl.âÂ
Weirdly, hearing Moody exasperated at him just like he always used to be almost makes Benjy feel a fondness towards him. Almost. Immeasurable indignation surpasses any other emotions.
âJesus fucking Christ. Whatâd Mary tell you?â
âDoesnât matter-I was around the two of you for two seconds, and Iâm not bloody blind or stupid. Youâve been mooning over her for months and now you finally have some fucking time to get to know each other and...what? The sparkâs gone?â
âMy fucking legs are gone, Alastor.âÂ
Benjy says this so fiercely he actually spits onto the phone. Rage comes to him so quickly when it comes to her-and thatâs scary within itself. Benjyâs worst fears are true-this love runs deep.Thereâs silence on the other end. And then-
âI donât think that matters to her, mate.â
Benjy hates the softness in his friendâs voice. He hates everything about this conversation, but most of all, he hates that heâs having to have it again.
Benjy can almost picture Alastor and it hurts. At his desk, looking out over the organized chaos of the station, finding Shacklebolt in the crowd maybe, for the sole purpose of sizing him up. Benjy will never be back in that bull pen.
âSo thatâs it then?â
âUnless youâve got a solution by way of a bloody miracle.â
âHmm. So you wouldnât care if Kingsley looked her up and gave her a ring? Took her out?â
âI hope they go dancing.â Thatâs what he was going to do. For their first date. If sheâd ever said yes-there was a place pretty close by that gave ballroom lessons for pretty cheap on Thursdays-heâd thought about taking lots of girls there, but something told him with Cleona along, it actually wouldâve been fun, no matter how helpless Benjy actually was at dancing.Â
Wouldâve wouldâve wouldâve.
If he canât make her happy, at the very least, he owes it to her to try to pay her back. Somehow. Someway. The gears turn and click into place. A replacement.
âYou know what, Al? Iâll do him one better. Iâll ring her for him-do the fucking heavy lifting for Shacklebolt to swoop in just in time to get the glory-sound alright to you?â
âDonât call me again.â
Benjyâs voice is cold and he hangs up without another word. His hand rests on the handset, gripping the plastic so tight Benjy actually hears it start to crack. He wants to throw the whole bloody thing against the wall with all his regrown strength-but thatâd land him in some deep shit, deep shit that might make itâs way back to the girl who hasnât called.
Almost robotically, with every fiber of his sense screaming at him not to, Benjy dials Cleonaâs number.