Loving You Was the Risk

I Almost Disowned You

Benjamin POV



For the first time in a long time, my life actually felt like it was moving in a direction I wanted.

That was new.

I had a plan. A real one. Finish my last test. Get fully licensed. Start helping my dad for real with the business. Build something that stayed. Something solid. Something that didn’t disappear after six months or come apart under pressure.

The military had taught me a lot. How to function when everything hurt. How to lead. How to shut down parts of yourself to survive.

It also taught me how much damage you could do when you didn’t deal with your own crap.

Especially to people who didn’t deserve it.

Like Amy.

High school me had been an i***t. A scared one. I pushed her away because I didn’t know how to want something without breaking it. Because caring felt like a liability. Because I thought distance was safer than screwing things up.

Turns out, distance just meant regret.

I was still thinking about that when I walked into the kitchen.

My mom was already making coffee.

Not the fancy kind. The kind that could probably strip paint, but had fueled my father for forty years and was apparently good enough for the rest of us.

“You’re up early,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “Nervous?”

“About what?” I asked, grabbing a mug.

She gave me a look. The kind only mothers can give. The one that says I know everything and you’re bad at lying. Her dark brown hair, with a little gray at the sides, did nothing to hide her beauty even at fifty-two.

“You’re going to see Austin today.”

“And?”

“And you’re going to help him with his studio.”

“And?”

She smiled sweetly. “And Amy lives there.”

I took a sip of coffee and immediately regretted it. “She does not live there. She’s just… staying there.”

My dad snorted from the table. “That’s living, son.”

I ignored him. “I’m just helping Austin. That’s it.”

“Uh-huh,” my mom said. “How’s the contractor license coming?”

“Good. I just need to take one more test. Then I’m officially certified.”

“That means you’ll finally stop calling yourself ‘almost a contractor,’” my dad said. He was laughing, but you could see the pride in his light blue eyes. Just like mine. Except his hair was lighter, probably from too much time in the sun.

“It means I can help more with the business,” I said. “Not just decks and patios.”

“Hey,” my dad said. “Those decks and lanais pay very well.”

“And kitchen and bathroom remodels,” I added. “Simple stuff. Still.”

My mom smiled. “We’re proud of you.”

Then she hesitated. “We miss Austin.”

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “Me too.”

“And Amy,” she added. “We didn’t see her as much, but… she was always a sweet girl. Always around you two in the beginning.”

I nodded. “She was.”

That was all I said.

Apparently, it wasn’t enough.

My dad raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? No comment?”

“What comment?”

“You used to make her life miserable,” my mom said, laughing. “That poor girl. You both went back and forth constantly.”

“She had a mouth on her,” I said.

“She still does,” my mom said. “Be nice to her. She was always so sweet. Until you pushed her away and I didn’t see much of her

after that.”

“I am nice.”

“You called her Darla Sherman for six years,” my dad said.

“She looked like her.”

“She had braces and glasses, but she was cute in them. You know that. You always looked at her,” my mom said.

I stood up. “I’m going to meet Austin.”

“Be. Nice,” my mom called after me.

“No promises.” I stood up, put the coffee cup into the sink and said bye to my parents. The whole way to Austin's place I was thinking of her. I almost missed my turn.

The condo complex was… sad.

Close to the beach, sure. But in the way where you could smell salt and regret at the same time.

Austin was already waiting upstairs.

As soon as I stepped inside, I noticed it.

Not him.

Her.

A pair of flip-flops by the door. A faded backpack on the chair. A coffee mug that definitely did not belong to Austin.

Amy was here.

That made my chest do something stupid.

I told myself to get over it.

“Man,” I said, looking around, “this place needs some serious help.”

Austin laughed. “Tell me about it. It was cheap for a reason.”

“I could fix it up,” I said. “Once I pass that last test, I’ll be fully licensed. We could redo the kitchen. Both bathrooms too.”

He looked at me like I’d just offered him a miracle. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. It’s what we do. Decks, patios, lanais, kitchens, bathrooms. Nothing fancy. Just better.”

“Dude, I’d owe you.”

“You already do,” I said. “You still haven’t paid me back from high school.”

He laughed. “You’ll survive.”

And yeah. I would.

But so would he. He always did.

That was kind of the point.

We’d been trading favors since we were kids. Helping each other without keeping score. Covering when the other one fell a little

short. That was just how it worked between us.

Like the time I spotted him gas money when he was broke and pretending he wasn’t. Or when I helped him fix his car instead of studying for finals. Or when I covered for him with his foster parents after he stayed out all night with a girl he swore he wasn’t in love with.

“You’ll survive” didn’t mean I don’t care.

It meant we’re even.

It meant we always will be.

And he was right. I wasn’t actually expecting anything back.

That’s how it had always been between us.

We were about to head out when he stepped outside to throw some clothes into the washer—the kind that sat out back because apparently this place liked to make life harder than necessary.

“Ames!”

I heard her voice before I saw her.

He turned toward the balcony, leaning over the railing, and started talking to her. About the studio. About backdrops. About whether she wanted to come help.

I stayed a few steps behind him, pretending to check my phone.

But really, I was listening.

And watching.

She was down there by her car, looking up at him, one hand shielding her eyes from the sun. Hair pulled up. Wearing a blue top that absolutely should not have been doing what it was doing to my concentration.

She said something and he laughed.

The easy kind of laugh.

The kind that comes from years of shared history.

I felt… like I was stepping back into a life I’d walked away from.

And maybe didn’t deserve to step back into.

I told myself to focus.

Not to think about how familiar she still felt.

Not to think about how much I’d missed that sound.

Then Austin turned back to me. “She’s not coming. Homework and work.”

I nodded. “Of course.”

And we kept going.

Right toward her.

“So,” he said. “Sharkey’s this weekend?”

“Maybe,” I said. “Depends if I feel like seeing Tamera.”

He groaned. “She still works there?”

“Unfortunately.”

Austin shook his head. “I still don’t understand why you ever dated her. Or Heather. Or either of those two nightmares.”

I leaned against the railing. “Because they were easy.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It is when you’re seventeen and determined not to feel anything.”

He crossed his arms. “They were horrible to Amy.”

“I know.”

“Like… actively horrible.”

“I know.”

Tamera and Heather had been the kind of girls everyone noticed and nobody actually liked. The kind who traveled in pairs, always whispering behind their hands, always laughing at someone who wasn’t in on the joke. If they weren’t picking on Amy directly, they were making sure someone else was. They didn’t need a reason. They just needed a target.

Once, they dumped Amy’s backpack into a trash can and told her she should get used to being where she belonged.

Austin had almost gotten suspended that day.

And that was the day I finally snapped.

I was done pretending they were harmless. Done pretending it was just high school drama. I told them exactly what I thought of them and exactly how little they were worth. It didn’t go over well. There was yelling. There were threats. There were a lot of very ugly words.

But they left Amy alone after that.

Austin never knew that part.

He still almost stopped talking to me for ever having anything to do with either of them.

And honestly? He wasn’t wrong.

“I didn’t date them because I liked them,” I said. “I dated them because they didn’t matter. No expectations. No risk. No feelings.”

“You know I almost disowned you, right?” Austin said.

“I know.”

“I told you if you ever hurt her, I’d break your face.”

“You did. Twice.”

“And?”

“And you were right.”

He sighed. “You owe her better.”

I didn’t argue.

Because he was right.

I changed the subject. “So… Savannah.”

He blinked. “What about her?”

“Oh, nothing,” I said. “Just that you get weird when her name comes up.”

“I do not.”

“You absolutely do.”

“She’s Amy’s friend.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

I laughed. “I remember when they met.”

“You weren’t even there.”

“I heard about it. Everyone did.”

Amy had been hiding in the library with a sad sandwich and a book like she was trying to disappear. Savannah had sat down and said, “Are you hiding or is this your natural habitat?”

Amy had replied, “I bite.”

Savannah had stayed anyway.

Ten minutes later, Amy laughed so hard she snorted.

By the end of the week, they were inseparable.

“She just showed up and never left,” Austin said.

“Best kind of people,” I said.

He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t make this weird.”

“Oh, I’m absolutely making it weird.”

Then we headed downstairs.

And I saw her.

And suddenly, I could not, in fact, get over it.

She was standing by her car. Hair pulled up. Legs. Definitely legs. A blue top that should have been illegal for my peace of mind.

She was… not the awkward kid I remembered.

She looked really good.

So obviously, I did what any emotionally stunted man would do.

I teased her.

Because that’s what I do when I’m nervous.

And she fired right back.

And God, I missed that.

She still had her sass. Still had that spark. Still got flustered and angry and funny all at once.

It wasn’t as awkward as I thought it would be.

It was… easy.

Too easy.

We got into Austin’s car, and he sighed. “I missed this.”

“Missed what?” I asked.

“All of us,” he said. “Hanging out.”

Then he glanced at me. “Hey. Don’t be too hard on her.”

I stiffened. “Why?”

He hesitated. “She just went through a breakup. Kind of a bad one.”

That did something ugly to my stomach.

“I think there’s more to it,” he added. “But she won’t talk about it.”

I clenched my jaw. “Who was the guy?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Austin said. “He’s gone.”

Good.

“He kicked her out,” Austin added. “She’s been… not great.”

I nodded. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

Austin looked relieved. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

“Of course I will,” I said. “She’s family.”

Even if I wasn’t allowed to want her.