Page 114 of Benji

In my heart, she is my wife.

And if I have anything to say about it?

She will remain that way in law, under God, and in every other damn way there is, too.

“She never made those videos,” I say, more to the night than anything else.

The truth lands heavy.

Final.

She told me.

So many fucking times.

And I didn’t believe her.

Because I didn’t think I deserved her.

That’s the part that sticks.

That’s the part that pisses me off the most.

Not just Paul’s lies.

Not just his betrayal.

Mine.

Because I let it happen.

Let doubt creep in.

Let my own fucked-up baggage twist something good into something rotten.

Bastard son of Ace Gunner.

Just another no account fuck up.

The words echo like a curse.

I’ve heard them my whole life.

Felt them.

Lived them.

And somewhere along the way, I started believing them.

Started thinking I wasn’t good enough.

Not for her.

Not for something real.

So when Paul handed me that lie—wrapped up in something that looked like truth—I took it.

Didn’t question it hard enough.