Something Wild & Wonderful

Book 2: Nashville Love

by Anita Kelly

Genres: Humor & Satire; Action & Adventure Romance

Synopsis

From the author of Love & Other Disasters comes a sparkling sullen-meets-sunshine romance featuring two men's sweeping journey across the Western wilderness. 

Alexei Lebedev’s journey on the Pacific Crest Trail begins with a single snake. And it is angling for the hot stranger who seemed to have appeared out of thin air. Lex is prepared for rattlesnakes, blisters, and months of solitude. What he isn’t prepared for is Ben Caravalho. But somehow—on a 2,500-mile trail—Alexei keeps running into the outgoing and charismatic hiker with golden-brown eyes, again and again. It might be coincidence. Then again, maybe there’s a reason the trail keeps bringing them together . . .

Ben has made his fair share of bad decisions, and almost all of them involved beautiful men. And yet there’s something about the gorgeous and quietly nerdy Alexei that Ben can’t just walk away from. Surely a bad decision can’t be this cute and smart. And there are worse things than falling in love during the biggest adventure of your life. But when their plans for the future are turned upside down, Ben and Alexei begin to wonder if it’s possible to hold on to something this wild and wonderful.

Release date: March 7, 2023

Publisher: Grand Central Publishing

Print pages: 368

Sample

Chapter One

The first rattlesnake made Alexei’s heart stop.

Just one uncomfortably long missed beat: a gasp stuck in his chest.

The woosh of cars on the Palms to Pines Scenic Byway had faded, replaced by the not-quite-silence of the Southern California desert and the sound of Alexei’s pulse jumping in his ears. The day was already warm, his pack heavy on his shoulders.

His first steps on the Pacific Crest Trail had felt surreal, his senses muzzy, like walking through a strange fog of sunshine and sand. But almost an hour in, he had started to ease into the familiar clarity of solitude. Before the quiet around him broke, abruptly, with the distinctive rattle. Tightly wound scales, vibrating in warning.

Alexei’s feet stopped automatically.

The snake slithered across the trail in front of him.

Paused exactly where Alexei’s next footfall would have been.

For a long moment, they both waited: a fragile standoff.

Until another series of noises filtered through Alexei’s brain. The huff of breath working hard through a set of lungs. The soft pounding of shoes on sand.

Alexei’s arm shot out on instinct, hitting the solid plane of the stranger’s chest. Even as his mind raced, the movement filled him with a strangely comforting sense memory of every time he’d done the same for his younger sister: each time Alina got too close to the edge of the sidewalk in downtown Portland; whenever she leaned too far over the edge of an embankment on their family hikes through Gifford Pinchot National Forest.

But Alexei was far away from the Pacific Northwest now, and the person he was currently protecting from the rattlesnake was definitely not Alina.

For the first time since he’d heard the rattle, Alexei tore his gaze from the ground to glance at the man next to him. The stranger had dark hair, wrapped up in a bun, lightly tanned skin. And earbuds stuck in his ears, which was probably why he’d thundered up to Alexei and the rattlesnake so carelessly. Inch by inch, he lifted a hand to remove one of the small white pieces from his ear while he stared down at the snake, chest heaving against Alexei’s arm.

Which, for some reason, Alexei seemed unable to move.

“Snake,” the man said.

Alexei’s eyes returned to the trail before them.

“Snake,” he agreed.

They stood frozen there for another long second—Alexei, the stranger, and the snake. Alexei was contemplating how to get his brain to send the signal to his arm to remove itself from the stranger’s chest when the rattlesnake moved its head.

And stared directly at Alexei.

Its tail gave another sharp rattle as its long, thin tongue slithered out between its teeth.

Before Alexei could stop himself, his extended arm turned, so his hand could more easily grab a fistful of the stranger’s T-shirt. He would have been more embarrassed about this if the stranger hadn’t moved even closer to Alexei in the same instant, his shoulder shoving behind Alexei’s back. Alexei couldn’t quite focus on anything other than his pounding heart, which was making up for its earlier skipped beat by parading double time against his rib cage.

“Snake,” the stranger said again, a whisper this time, brushing against the sun-heated shell of Alexei’s ear.

What was the phrase about human reactions in emergencies? Fight or flight? Well, that was clearly untrue. Alexei was fully incapable, at the moment, of either fighting the rattlesnake or flying away from it. A more apropos phrase would be…panic or piss yourself.

And while Alexei might have been clutching a stranger’s T-shirt in his fist, at least he hadn’t pissed himself.

He was pretty sure.

He’d have to further assess the situation later.

If he made it to later.

But miraculously, the snake turned its head a beat later. Slithered into the chaparral, smooth and silent. Out of sight in half a second.

Alexei almost screamed out loud when a hand clamped around his other shoulder, a scratchy beard shoving its way next to his cheek.

“Hey, boys,” the new stranger said. “Why’re we cuddling?”

Alexei, finally, dropped his arm and stepped away, sucking in a deep, dusty breath.

“Shit, Faraj,” the original stranger said, rubbing at his forehead. “There was this huge rattler right across the trail—” He shook his head, looking up from the ground to meet Alexei’s eyes. A slow smile grew on his lips, eyes dazed with relief. “This guy saved my life.”

“Damn,” Faraj said. “Sounds exciting.”

That was, Alexei supposed, one word for it. He had to look away from the original stranger’s smile, because now that Alexei could fully see his face, and the way that smile transformed it—those eyes, deep brown and warm, the skin crinkling around them—

It was simply sensory overload for Alexei, right then.

Faraj clapped a hand on Alexei’s shoulder again. “Thanks, man.”

Alexei opened his mouth before snapping it shut, unable to figure out what to say.

“Hey!” Faraj shouted over his shoulder. “Watch out for rattlers!”

And with a friendly smile to Alexei, Faraj kept walking down the trail. He was followed a moment later by three other men, each of whom gave Alexei a nod, a smile, and a “Hey,” on their way.

Alexei blinked back at each of them, still struggling to cool his adrenaline. He rubbed absently at his chest after they’d passed.

“Thanks again.”

Alexei nearly jumped. He hadn’t realized the original stranger, with the brown eyes and the long hair and the smile, was still there.

“I’m Ben.”

Ben held out his hand. After a second, Alexei shook it.

“Alexei.”

“You can hike with us if you want.” Ben tilted his head toward the trail, where the others had gone.

“Oh.” Alexei shook his head. “No, that’s okay.” After an awkward pause, he added, “You probably shouldn’t hike with earbuds in.”

He bit his tongue, immediately recognizing how chiding it had sounded. This was possibly one of the reasons why Alexei didn’t have very many friends. But, well. The desert was a frightening place. Ben needed to look out for himself.

To Alexei’s relief, Ben laughed, hands on his hips.

“My mother would thank you for the reminder.”

They stared at each other for another long moment, until Ben adjusted the trekking poles wrapped around his wrists and nodded toward the trail.

“All right,” he said. “See you out there.”

With one last disarmingly attractive smile, he, too, was gone.

Alexei bent over his own trekking poles, taking a moment.

He was officially one mile into his 2,500-mile hike. This huge thing he had planned for months suddenly taking form in the dust already collecting on his trail runners, the wind battering his face, the sun beating on his neck. He had been prepared for this solitary journey, had looked forward to months spent walking along the rocky spines of California, Oregon, and Washington, alone. A chance to say good-bye to his old life. To this wonderful, wild coast. To find a bit of peace before he started over.

In a way, Alexei had been preparing for this moment for years, ever since his father had started taking him on serious trails when he was seven years old. Thinking of his dad pinched at Alexei’s chest, but it was a pinch he had expected, one he was familiar with now. A pinch he had felt, too, when Ben had said, My mother would thank you for the reminder. Alexei hoped, eventually, by the time he reached the end of the trail in Canada, that he’d have perfected feeling that pinch. That he would have gotten so used to it, this pinch of his mother and father, that he’d barely even notice it anymore.

It was hard to imagine, truthfully. But he was hopeful anyway. Hope was why he was here.

Either way, something about stepping onto the trail this morning with nothing but his pack and his thoughts had felt…anticlimactic, even once his senses had adjusted. There had been no welcoming party, no spreadsheet for him to consult—he had made so many spreadsheets, in his preparations—no boxes to check in satisfaction. Nothing to announce that this was actually happening.

Until the rattlesnake.

The rattlesnake knew Alexei was here.

And Ben. He knew Alexei was here, too.

Alexei straightened. Stared ahead at the undulating brown hills, the blazing sky.

He had promised himself to take in the lessons the natural world always seemed ready to give. When he thought about it now, rattlesnakes were a rather kind species. There were scarier prospects ahead of him, he knew: mountain lions and bears, dried-up water sources and dehydration. Snow-filled mountain passes to traverse, roaring rivers to cross.

Rattlesnakes at least gave you a warning.

Mostly, like anything else, they just wanted to exist.

Mostly, they just wanted you to listen.

Alexei had survived his first rattlesnake.

He had received a warm smile from a handsome man.

And—he completed a quick pat-down of himself to make sure—he had not pissed himself.

He had been taught from an early age to take small bits of grace where you could find them.

His stride a little stronger, his pulse a little calmer, Alexei turned and walked past the rattlesnake’s path, farther into the heart of the desert.

*  *  *

The next time Alexei saw Ben, it was thirty miles later, and Ben’s face was full of shaving cream.

“Hey!” Ben’s voice stopped Alexei in his tracks, the friendly, unexpected greeting almost as surprising as that first rattlesnake. “You’re the guy who saved my life.”

Alexei stared at Ben’s reflection in the mirror of the bathroom, the small space and bright lights above the sink making Ben’s smile even more inescapable than it had been in the middle of the desert.

“I don’t think—” Alexei cleared his throat, dry after days of disuse. “I didn’t actually save your life.”

“Oh.” Ben rinsed his blade, tapped it against the side of the sink before bringing it to his face. “I was oblivious and dehydrated. I would have stepped on that sucker, one hundred percent. You most definitely saved my life.” His smile in the mirror faded, the hand holding the razor pausing as he turned to face Alexei. “I’m so sorry, though. I don’t remember your name.”

“Alexei,” Alexei introduced himself again.

“That’s right.” Ben smiled. “I’m Ben.”

Alexei definitely remembered Ben’s name. While Alexei had passed plenty of other hikers over the past few days, Ben was the only person he’d exchanged more than two words with. Alexei thought he would probably always remember Ben’s name.

“Anyway”—Ben returned to his shave—“it’s good to see you again. And hey!” He pointed at the counter with his blade. “Sinks!”

The thirty miles since Alexei had last seen Ben had not been the best thirty miles of his life. Past the initial triumph of not getting bitten by a rattlesnake, Alexei’s body was full of more aches than he had ever before experienced. His shoulders and hips were bruised from the weight of his pack, his pale face sunburned no matter how often he slathered on sunscreen, his feet blistered and painful even though the guy at REI had assured him they wouldn’t be. He had been so enthusiastic, that guy, about how with the right shoes, one wouldn’t get blisters, no matter how far you were traveling.

Alexei had spent the last twenty miles or so wishing he could go back to REI and have a serious conversation with that guy. He imagined most of the conversation would simply involve Alexei crying, while the REI guy stood there looking ruggedly handsome and upbeat, like any human who had ever been employed by REI. But for some reason, Alexei liked picturing it anyway.

On top of it all, Alexei’s stomach seemed to be rejecting the PCT entirely. He could barely keep anything down. And if there was one thing you needed on a long-distance hike, it was calories. He hadn’t planned on making this side trip to Idyllwild, several miles off the official trail, but the prospect of real, freshly prepared food at the restaurants here had proven too great. Hence, his current arrival at the restroom of Tommy’s Kitchen. And while he knew it was the right decision, he’d still been frustrated with himself, disappointed, the whole side trail down. Traveling to Idyllwild would set him back half a day, at the least.

Yet when Ben smiled at him and said, Sinks!—improbably, the corner of Alexei’s mouth couldn’t help but twitch into its own half smile. Sinks truly were exciting when you’d spent the last four days walking through the desert with barely a single freshwater source available.

It also felt like a funny echo of their first monosyllabic conversation. Snake.

Alexei had never been able to master the art of casual conversation, with anyone, really, but especially when it came to objectively handsome men. But maybe, just maybe, he could handle these single-word discussions with Ben.

“Sinks,” he agreed. And then, after another moment of realizing he had likely been staring at Ben’s half-shaven face too long, he added, “Okay, well. I’m going to use the restroom now.”

Embarrassment swept in as soon as the words left his mouth, the tips of his ears warming as it occurred to him that this had likely not been a completely necessary thing to say.

But Ben held both hands up in the air. The grin on his face spread. There was a small, straight gap between his lower front teeth.

“Toilets!” Ben shouted, jubilant.

Alexei stared at that gap in Ben’s teeth. His stomach gave a sharp, painful tug.

Hunger pangs, probably.

“Toilets,” he agreed.

“And trash cans! Man.” Ben returned to his shave. “Bathrooms. Fucking incredible.”

“Um.” Alexei’s shoulder hit the corner of the closest stall as he backed up. “Yes.”

And then he swiftly turned and hustled into the next stall. Which he barely fit into, with his pack. After one, two, three—oh, and four—loud bangs against the sides of the stall, he finally successfully dropped the pack off his shoulders. He only hung his head in his hands for a few horrified seconds.

Luckily, two other men soon entered the bathroom, chatting loudly with each other at the urinals, creating a distraction. And when Alexei returned to the sinks, Ben was focused on his phone, typing and smirking at its screen. He’d finished his shave, and it was striking, the clean jaw, the tender skin of his chin. His hair was down now, and that, too, looked remarkably clean, the shiny dark locks almost hitting his shoulders.

Alexei turned away to aggressively wash his hands, in an attempt to remove four days of desert grime from his fingernails.

Ben’s fingernails, Alexei couldn’t help but notice, looked as flawless as the rest of him, neatly trimmed, lacking any hint of dirt. Alexei’s eyes wandered without his exact permission, studying the veins that popped along Ben’s hands as he tapped at his phone, the way the tendons along his wrist and the muscles of his forearms stretched and relaxed with each subtle movement. He was wearing the same sky blue T-shirt he’d been wearing the other day, the only thing on his person that betrayed signs of the trail in its slight wrinkles, its faint streaks of dust.

Alexei remembered what the T-shirt had felt like, bunched in his hand.

He turned off the tap. He had planned on refilling his water pouches while he was in here, but he’d come back later. He had been wrong before. He did not possess the capacity to converse with Ben after all.

It was a relief to escape, he assured himself as he made a silent exit, unscathed by another one of those smiles.

He took a deep breath before he stepped outside.

The patio of Tommy’s Kitchen was nearly full, but Alexei spotted a few empty tables in the back corner. He slid off his pack at the farthest one, rested it against the railing. Placed his order number at the edge of the table. Eased his swollen, blistered feet from his trail runners, slipping his toes into the cheap sandals he’d packed for camp. He’d been trying to give his feet breathing room anytime he took an extended rest the last few days, hoping it would help ease their pain.

Once he was settled, he cracked open the bottle of apple juice he’d grabbed from the cooler inside the restaurant. The first sip was even better than taking off his shoes. It was so cold and so sweet. Like the plums in the icebox. The first thing his body had accepted with joy since he’d stepped onto the trail. He almost cried.

“Hey, buddy.”

Alexei choked on his next sip, so lost in his liquid sugar reverie that he hadn’t realized someone had approached him. When he was able to look up, he recognized the dark beard on the tall, thick man hovering above him. That beard had brushed his face three days ago.

“Do you mind if we crash your party? Not many other seats left, unfortunately.”

Oh. Alexei didn’t really—but he supposed—

“Here, have a beer for your troubles.” The bearded man placed a sweating can of Pabst Blue Ribbon next to Alexei’s apple juice. With effort, Alexei resisted wrinkling his nose at it.

“Sure.” He managed a small smile.

“Excellent. Hey, I’m actually glad to run into you again.” The man plunked his pack down behind them with a thunk. “Sorry we kept on trucking so fast the other day. We were lookin’ to make some big miles, and it was hot as hell out there; didn’t want to lose our momentum, you know? Anyway, thanks for saving Ben from the rattler. I’m Faraj, by the way.” He held out a calloused brown hand.

Faraj. That was right. Funny how Alexei hadn’t been able to remember that.

“Alexei.”

After they shook, Faraj pushed the neighboring table alongside Alexei’s, its legs stuttering across the worn wood of the patio. The other men who had been hiking with Faraj that day soon joined them, lining their own packs up against the railing, cracking open their own cans of beer. Including—because right, of course—Ben. Who sat directly across from Alexei, holding a plastic cup of water.

Alexei swallowed. His plan to eat real food in Idyllwild while feeling sorry for himself was turning into…not that. But this was okay. He would have to talk to strangers more in his new life, as Alexei 2.0. He could do this.

The other men introduced themselves—a Black man with short locs, Ryan; a sunburnt redhead, Tanner—and their food arrived shortly thereafter, cutting off the need for conversation. Everyone at the table had ordered burgers, except for Alexei, who had a turkey club. Ben had added on a salad; Ryan had ordered onion rings for the table. It was all greasy and fresh, a marvel after four days of granola bars and freeze-dried meals, and Alexei’s social anxiety settled as he ate.

Halfway into the meal, Ben caught Alexei’s eye. He held up a crispy, golden steak fry with another gap-toothed grin.

“Fries,” he said.

“Fries,” Alexei agreed with a smile, more natural this time.

In fact, with each bite, Alexei felt something returning to himself. Energy. Gratitude. The belief he could keep walking without dying.

The bread of his sandwich was perfectly toasted, the tomato slices fresh and juicy. And the cheese—the bacon—

He tried to slow down. He hadn’t eaten much at all in the last two days; didn’t want to make himself sick. He tried to savor each remaining part of his meal, every fry, each delicious bite of sourdough. And he hadn’t even yet picked up—

An idea. A small one, but one that still took effort.

He looked at Ben until Ben returned his gaze. Slowly, pointedly, Alexei lifted the pickle in his hand.

“Pickle,” he said.

Ben’s smile this time was gentle, almost intimate. Like Alexei had really earned it.

“Pickle,” Ben agreed.

It was the best pickle Alexei had ever tasted.

He should have known the whole thing was too good to last.

“All right,” Faraj said once his burger was demolished, leaning back and taking a long sip from his beer. “Ryan. It’s time, man. Tell us what the hell happened with Leon.”

Alexei studied the men at the table. Reached back in his memory and realized there had been another person, another part of their crew who had walked by when he first met them, who was missing.

Ryan started laughing, holding his stomach.

“Shit. I keep forgetting I haven’t told y’all yet.”

“Yeah, because you’ve been weirdly holding out on us all day,” Tanner said.

“Well, it’s a damn good story, and I was cranky as hell this morning,” Ryan replied. “Wanted to wait until I could tell it good.”

“You definitely were that,” Tanner muttered as he loped an onion ring onto his finger.

“Screw you. Anyway, so last night. All you losers are sleeping.” Ryan shoved his empty burger basket away, leaned his forearms across the table. “Somewhere towards midnight, I hear a noise coming down the trail.”

Alexei’s head started to buzz, an indistinct itch creeping beneath his skin.

He had felt good while they were eating. Had been able to handle the introductions. But as Ryan commenced his tale about how he and Leon had met a night hiker high on shrooms outside their campsite last night, Alexei began to dissociate from the conversation.

It was a familiar feeling. Alexei didn’t want to be an antisocial person; he just…didn’t have anything to say about shrooms. For so much of his life, he simply didn’t have a lot to say about the things people around him often wanted to talk about.

Ben, for his part, didn’t participate much in the conversation, either, sipping his water across from Alexei, occasionally distracted by his phone on the table. Alexei felt disappointed in himself as he became more and more uncomfortable, as the guys next to them became more and more animated—something about coyotes, and looking for aliens; Alexei had lost the thread. But he had been proud of himself for a minute there. Talking with a guy like Ben, even if it was only in small syllables. Feeling semicomfortable in his skin.

Now, all he could think about was getting away. Being alone again. He probably wouldn’t even be able to muster a decent good-bye.

He was halfway into a mental spiral when he was saved by the call.

It was a fast, repetitive staccato, and it sounded like relief to Alexei’s ears, something natural and pretty. He turned his head toward it, away from the conversation, away from Ben’s smile, away from blisters and swollen feet, toward the lawn at the side of the patio, the large tree there. He focused on hearing the sound again, to make sure. If he had been alone, he would have brought out his monocular.

But bringing out his monocular seemed…not quite the thing to do, here, in this moment.

“Oh my God.” Tanner covered his face with his hands. “Leon is such a fucking idiot.”

Alexei’s stomach started to churn. He prayed the food would settle.

The bird in the tree was a junco, he thought. Or, no. Hm. Maybe—

He closed his eyes to listen more closely.

Chapter Two

Ben knew he was in trouble the moment Alexei closed his eyes.

He had watched Alexei retreat further and further into himself as the meal wound down, as Ryan’s story got more and more ridiculous. Had seen him look away into the distance a moment ago, furrow his brow in concentration. But when he tilted his head and closed his eyes—

He was listening to something, Ben thought. The bird, most likely, that was trilling in a tree next to the patio.

All the other fools at this table were laughing about being fools, and this guy—this gorgeous, kind of awkward guy who had saved Ben’s life—was listening, hardcore, to a bird.

Ben had lifted his fork to finally make work of his salad, but he paused now, glancing around to see if anyone else was noticing the supremely hot guy who appeared to be meditating at the end of their table. Alas. Only him.

So Ben ate his salad. Stared at Alexei. Watched the sun dance across his eyelids, throw highlights in his very blond hair, along the honey-gold scruff that graced his chin.

He was distracted from the sight only when his phone buzzed on the table.

Julie: YAY BEN YOU’RE STILL ALIVE YAY

Julie: London says hi!

Julie: London is also currently being a giant stress monster and a pain in my fricking behind so I understand if you don’t want to say hi back! I wouldn’t!!

Smiling, Ben dropped his fork and picked up his phone.

Ben: hi London! *waves* Why are they being a stress monster?

Julie: they’re trying to hire a director for the nonprofit. it’s a whole thing

Julie: WOW okay they are not a fan of being called a stress monster

Julie: anyway, show me your grossest blister

Ben was actually doing decently in the blister arena these days. He had bit it a while back, though, near Warner Springs, where he’d first run into this group of guys. He’d landed awkwardly on his side on top of a log. He found the picture he’d taken of the bruise that had bloomed on his stomach and sent it to Julie. He had documented it for this exact purpose: impressing his best friend.

Julie: SAUCY, CARAVALHO

Julie: also—GNARLY. WELL DONE.

Ben glanced up from his phone just in time to see Alexei’s eyelids finally blink open.

His phone buzzed again in his hand. But Ben couldn’t look away, no matter how his brain yelled at him to do just that. When Alexei fully returned to the world of the living, turning his head toward the table again, Ben waited until he caught his eye. Smiled at him.

Alexei’s face flushed, pink creeping around the edges of his sunburn, like he’d been caught doing something naughty.

His eyes were so blue. Like the sky above the Cumberland River on a sunny summer day.

Ben used every ounce of restraint he possessed to keep himself from plopping his chin on his palm and fluttering his eyelashes at him.

Another buzz from his phone, and Ben finally looked down. The newest text was from his mother, in response to a photo he’d sent of the sunset last night over the Coachella Valley: cacti and Joshua trees surrounded by peachy-golden light.

Ma: Oh, Bento. It’s gorgeous.

Those shimmery still-typing dots appeared. And disappeared. Another dot party. And gone.

Ben frowned.

Finally—

Ma: Please be careful.

A lump formed in Ben’s throat. She’d finished every text exchange with him over the last two weeks this way. Every time, Ben could hear the restraint in the words, how hard she was trying. Typically, Iris Caravalho did not bite her tongue.

God, he missed her.

He missed Ma, and Dad, and Julie, and his baby sister Carolina, and his old roommate Khalil, and London, and practically everything about Nashville, Tennessee.

Another text popped up, from Jeremy, an old coworker from the coffee shop. The one who had hiked the Appalachian Trail shortly before getting hired, who never shut the fuck up about it, who had planted the seeds of this trip into Ben’s brain years ago.

He’d sent Jeremy the same photo he’d sent Ma, of the Coachella sunset.

Jeremy: fuck yeah, man. you’re doing it

Ben blew out a breath.

In truth, the seeds of this hike had been in Ben’s brain for a long time. Jeremy’s incessant storytelling about the AT only helped germinate them. He had been a rambunctious kid, full of too much energy, barely contained in his small body. All the Caravalhos were full of restless energy, in a way, but while his older brother Tiago had put his into sports, and Carolina had put hers into ruthless academics, Ben had bloomed in the outdoors. He felt truly, fully at ease only when he was on the move in the open air. Exploring. Discovering.

Once he grew past the age where playing in the dirt wasn’t an acceptable form of daily activity, though, his restlessness had amplified in other, less cute, unhealthier ways. Almost the entire decade of his twenties had been a string of bad decisions: failed relationships, missed family obligations, messy hookups. Strings of jobs that paid the bills but didn’t satisfy much else.

Until two years ago, when Ben had finally been . . .