Ciara stormed through the guest house door that Ben was holding open for her, pulling off her jacket and throwing it onto the ottoman at the foot of Ben's bed.

"She is absolutely the most infuriating, stubborn... I can't believe what a hypocrite she is! It's so clear that you've changed and she refuses to see it because it would mean - God forbid - she was wrong!" Ciara shouted at the walls, pacing back and forth across Ben's bedroom. He hadn't said anything their whole ride back to the mansion. "It's like she still thinks I'm a kid. Like I'm not living on my own, not making my own decisions, like I'm just an incapable little girl. I can't stand her pretending like I don't have a life and mind of my own."

Finally she stopped for a moment, sitting on the ottoman. Ben stayed silent, taking off his jacket and hanging it carefully on the chair next to his dresser. "God... Ben, I'm so sorry, I've just been ranting about her for the last 15 minutes haven't I?! Ugh, I'm sorry. And I'm so sorry for what she said." She walked over to him, hands reaching for his shoulders. Ben stepped past her, avoiding her touch. Ciara turned back toward him, confused. "It kinda feels like I've been talking to myself here." Ciara said, folding her arms across her chest. "Anything you want to add? Thoughts? Comments?" He smirked a little, though it was clear to Ciara there was nothing he found even remotely funny. "What is it?"

"I've always worked with my hands," he said quietly, seemingly in a trance. He looked out the window, his back to her as he spoke. "Ever since I was a teenager. On the run with Jordan, I would do odd jobs to get us fed, a place to sleep. Manual labor, building furniture, demolition - whatever I could find. I was never the smartest, or the best, but I was always good with my hands." He looked down at his fingers, examining them. "Now I look at them and I remember that 3 people are dead because of these hands." He finished, his hands wringing together. Ciara listened, knowing her mother's words had opened a wound.

"Ben, my mom wasn't thinking when she said that,"

"Don't do that. Don't act like she was lying or making things up to get to me. Don't pretend like your mom didn't tell the truth."

"The truth isn't black and white!" Ciara said quickly. "The truth isn't that you were just obsessed with Abigail and then tortured her because you felt like it. You had a whole childhood of unresolved trauma that was never dealt with, and then you had an actual mental breakdown. You are just as much a victim of your father as that man he murdered in front of you! The difference is you are not like him."

"How can I not be like him, Ciara? It's his voice in my head. It's his anger and his cruelty that he literally beat into me. His hands are my hands." He said bitterly, his arms crossing over his chest, up to his neck. Ciara felt desperate, she could see Ben closing inside of himself again, like he had that day in the pub.

"These hands," Ciara pulled at his arms, as she had that day, and just like before he fought her slightly. "Are not something I am afraid of." Ben opened his mouth to speak but she brought her hand to his lips, silencing him. "These are the hands that picked me up off the road and carried me to safety. These are the hands that splinted my leg so I wasn't crippled for the rest of my life. They also fixed my father's bike." Facing him, she put his hands in hers. Slowly, she pulled them to her face and kissed the inside of both his palms. "Your hands don't scare me, Ben Weston. And neither do you." Ciara whispered, and he exhaled slowly. She could feel the relief coming off of him in waves, his eyes probing into her with such vulnerability it took her breath away. When the moment was over, they had anchored one another yet again. She stroked the side of his face gently, looking directly in his eyes to make her point.

"When you feel this way, when you feel yourself wanting to shut down, just know that I won't let you. I will hold you and remind you of the man you are now - and I won't leave. I can't... I can't lose you, Ben." Ciara said, her eyes bore into him as she did. He was quiet for a long time, just looking at her.

"You keep me centered, you know that? You remind me everyday that there's something worth fighting for. You are my lifeline, Ciara Brady."

As always, the space around them seemed to fade as they held onto one another. Somehow, Ciara knew that what she felt for him, what happened when they looked at each other was unbreakable, unchangeable, and always would be. Ben's eyes seemed to echo what she was thinking, as his hands moved upward to cup either side of her face.

She leaned into one, closing her eyes briefly as his other hand slid through her hair. Did he know how good it felt when he touched her? His fingers flexed on the back of her scalp, sending a shiver down Ciara's back. Ben felt it, and his other hand moved to the small of her back. She felt that constant electricity between them rising, their eyes unable to leave one another's.

"So about before in the square. What you said to my mom... that's the first time you've... well. You know. Said that." Ciara said with a small voice, looking up at him questioningly, cheeks flushing pink. The color made Ben smile.

"Ciara, are you blushing?" He toyed. She went even redder.

"Ben, come on, don't play with me. When you said," She gulped. "Did you... well... Did you mean it?" She asked, panic slipping into her voice. "Because I would understand if it just sort of slipped out by accident and you didn't. Mean it, is what I'm saying. I mean, my mom was being so awful and," she stammered. "And I know you would've said just about anything to shut her up because I would've done the same thing. She was being just awful... And well, I mean, saying you loved me certainly did the trick and," This time it was Ben who brought his fingers to her lips, to prevent any more words from escaping. She fell silent with an embarrassed look. He smiled, taking her face in his hands again.

"Of course I meant it. I meant every word. I'm only sorry that the first time you heard me say it I couldn't look in those big, beautiful eyes while I did." Ben stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. The pit of nerves in Ciara were lessening, but as he touched her the muscles in her lower belly tightened instead. "So how about this," He leaned back and took a breath. She could feel the nerves now radiating off of him, his cool exterior walls all the way down, just for her.

"Most of the time I can't believe that you're real - you are so kind, so brave, so generous. And the way you believe in me... it goes without saying that you are the best person I've ever known, and the strongest person I've ever met. I love you, Ciara Brady." Ben said, his eyes never leaving hers. As he spoke it felt like Ciara's heart might burst wide open. Her hands came up his shoulders to his neck, thumbs tracing his jawline. His eyes closed at her touch, making her knees go weak. Ciara smiled, shaking her head.

"Ben Weston, big romantic speech guy. Who knew?" She said, leaning into kiss him.