Page 26 of All of You

I nodded, finally having learned that if I opened my stupid trap, something dumb was going to fly out of it.

“Does it look like something someone you’d date would wear?”

“No,” I said firmly.

“No?”

“It’s better,” I admitted.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Whit

“Lieutenant Holder! Lieutenant Holder! What’s it like dating a Country music star?”

“Whit, what’s it like dating a hero?”

“How’d you two get together?”

“Is this the soldier you wrote your songs for?”

“Is this who you cheated on Jamie Morris with?”

“How’d you win your Purple Heart, Ben?”

At that, Ben whipped around to look at the gaggle of press crowding the walkway, held back only by a small rope that suggested they not get closer.

“Keep moving,” a voice called out.

I held Ben’s hand tighter, practically dragging him behind me. The press at the event was unusually aggressive and strangely well-informed about Ben. We’d been seen together last weekend, but I knew what this was, and my jaw tightened at the realization—Nikki must have sent out a press release, or at least a few well-placed tips.

“How long have you been dating?”

“Did you kill anybody in Afghanistan?”

“Did you bring him to this event to look good, Whit?”

I could feel Ben’s stress, the rigidity in his arm pulsing with energy—frustration, rage, overwhelm, all of it. I’d have questions to answer, that was for sure.

“Just keep going,” I said again, even though we were practically already in the car. Ru shut the door behind me, and I took a breath.

My gaze slid over to Ben. His eyes were closed, and he was holding his breath, then he let out a slow, controlled exhale.

“I’m so sorry.” My voice came out shakier than I’d expected.

“How do they already know who I am? How do they have any idea that I was deployed or that I have a Purple Heart?” His voice stayed completely controlled, but everything in his body language said he wasn’t feeling that way.

“I’m guessing Nikki leaked your name, and maybe even your service record. I had no idea she’d do that, and I am so, so sorry.”

He faced the front again, staring at the road, or nothing, and not responding to me. I hadn’t thought about this part, and now that it had happened, I felt like an idiot for failing to. Of course I’d considered that they’d find out he was a soldier—that was one thing that made him so attractive—but I hadn’t thought about how vicious the press could be, how they’d ask things he didn’t want to be asked, and that maybe, after having the experience he’d had, that even being asked could create a new kind of trauma.

His hands rested loosely at his sides. I reached out and put a hand on his arm. He startled slightly at my touch.

“Ben, I am truly sorry about this.” My gaze searched his face for some kind of clue about how to console him, or make him better.

His brow furrowed, and he looked at me for a minute before he swallowed and spoke. “I knew they’d find out I was in the Army. I hadn’t thought about the other stuff. I should have, I just didn’t…”

“That’s not your fault. I should have thought about it, too.” We were quiet then, for a moment that stretched out as the buildings whizzed past our tinted windows. “What can I do?”

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