Page 23 of All of You

“It is. And your cousin isn’t going to let me go quietly, if I decide not to continue.” He studied his plate, dipped his last fry in his ketchup, and ate it, still not looking at me.

“Are you and Reese pretty close, then?”

I’d wondered about that. For him to show up at Reese’s house when I was there meant Reese trusted him. They’d seemed very friendly during my visit, and for my gruff, unsociable cousin, that was rare. It spoke highly of Ben, too—another factor in my choice to move forward with him.

“You haven’t talked with him… about me?” he asked, his wrinkled brow showing me his surprise.

“No… not yet, anyway. Is he going to tell me a bunch of stuff that’ll make me regret dating you?” I asked, only partly joking.

In truth, I’d called and left a message, but hadn’t heard back. Reese was notoriously slow to return a phone call, particularly after he’d messaged to ask if it was urgent, and I’d said no.

Ben pushed his plate back and leaned on his forearms. He used a low, smooth voice when he said, “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, Whit. I already told you I’m far from perfect, and I mean that. I hope the truth of me won’t make you regret it, but we should deal with that soon so you don’t.”

Whatever it was, he was nervous about me knowing, but sure that I should know. Someplace in me knew it had to do with his deployment, with the loss of his friend—but I only knew about that because I’d stumbled upon him that night over a year ago when he was too drunk to realize he’d been spilling all his most intimate thoughts to me. There was an odd kind of humiliation in the fact that he didn’t even remember, though I’d been in disguise and he’d been truly drunk.

“I’m not worried, but I do want to know, whenever you’re ready to tell me.”

CHAPTER TEN

Ben

It had been the longest week of all long weeks.

Okay, exaggeration, but if I had to read through one more operations order demanding ten soldiers to do something the battalion didn’t have the numbers for, I would scream.

But that was a big part of the job, and it would only become more a part of the job as time went on. And that thought had me feeling the same old familiar, bleak sensation as I sat at my desk in the Rambler Battalion headquarters surrounded by the musty scent of a building in disrepair despite it being occupied constantly for the last forty years.

“You need to get out of here,” Major Flint said from behind me.

I inched my feet around in slow motion, toeing the line between humor and disrespect by taking so long to address him. “Yeah. Too bad I have another hour of work before I can go.”

I sounded like a petulant child talking to his punitive father, but that was me today, at five after five on a Friday.

“Get going. Do it Monday.” His general demeanor had much improved in the last week or so. Things must have been going better with Erin, his close friend-turned-maybe-girlfriend, and also a friend of mine.

“Since when are you kicking people out of the office? This time last year, you were sleeping on a cot on weekends.” The full edge of my frustration could be heard, bare and loud, in my voice.

Most everyone had fled the building for their weekend plans, so no one would hear me being insubordinate, which I sort of was being.

“Since I’ve stopped avoiding interacting with real life.”

No kidding, he had a twinkle in his eye.

“I take it things are looking up where our beloved Erin is concerned?” I asked, then swiveled to my computer and saved my work.

“As a matter of fact, yes.”

I could hear the smile in his voice—a rare enough thing that made me quickly turn to catch a glimpse of it, but he’d already knocked his features back to his resting Major face.

“I’m glad. I am.” And it was true.

They were sickening together, so sweet. A combination I never would have guessed at until I saw them together and then saw them torment themselves by staying apart. As the haze of my depression and self-destruction had cleared last spring, I’d begun seeing just how messed up Major Flint was by ignoring Erin, and then all the more once they’d been forced together as she took care of him while he was injured.

“Are you dating my cousin?” he asked, his voice low even though no one was nearby.

I stood and took a breath. I wanted to tell him what was really going on there—if anyone could be trusted with that information, it was him. But even telling him would be a breach of contract.

“I am. I’m seeing her again this weekend.”

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