Page 27 of All of You

He shook his head.

“I think it’s maybe what I should do. You need to understand something.” He shifted so he now faced me. “I’m not a hero. I don’t want to be called a hero—I didn’t earn the title, and I won’t wear it. If that’s what you think, if that’s why you asked me… then we’re done.”

The naked hurt and anger in his tone, on his face, made something clench in my chest. Again, he gave honesty and demanded it, and I wouldn’t fail to return it.

“That’s not it at all. I don’t—I don’t know what to say other than I’m not expecting you to act that way, or claim to be a hero, and I’m not putting that on you. You’re Ben Holder, soldier, friend of my cousin, adorable guy, and we’re friends. That’s why you’re here.” I squeezed his wrist, then pulled my hand away.

Ru pulled into the driveway.

“Please come inside with me, Ben,” I said, hoping he wouldn’t leave while he felt so upset.

His chest rose and fell, then he nodded once and got out of the car. Ru opened my door and helped me out before Ben could get to me, and I moved to the house and opened it for us.

“Thanks, Ru. Have a good night.”

He gave me his usual smile and nod and disappeared back into the driveway while Ben followed me inside.

“Can I get you a drink?” I asked while settling my coat in the closet.

“No, thank you,” he said, hands in his pockets.

I needed him to talk to me—to help me understand what I could do to make this better for him.

“Would you come into the kitchen with me?”

We both turned down the hall that led there.

I flipped on a few more lights and set my clutch down on the bar, then took a seat. He sat in the same place he had when he’d come to talk through our arrangement.

“Tell me what I can do to fix this.” My hands stretched out to him on the countertop.

He shook his head. “I don’t think there’s anything. I’m sorry I reacted this way—I’ve had a crap week, and this caught me off guard.”

He ran a hand over his head, and the hair just a touch longer on top now looked wild. Looking at him caused an ache in my chest—I didn’t want him to be hurting—not because of me or anyone else. I didn’t want him to feel anything but good.

“I’ll talk to Nikki. I’ll make it clear that as far as we’re concerned, there will not be any questions asked about… your service.”

He was inspecting the marble, smoothing a hand back and forth across a dark vein under his palm.

“Sure. But ultimately, I agreed to this, and I need to figure out a way to handle this kind of thing. I’ll bring it up with my therapist next week,” he said, so casually, no shame.

“You go to a therapist?” I tried not to sound disbelieving or even surprised, but it must’ve been there.

He gave me a strange smile. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. In any sense of the word. I told you, I’ve been broken, and the process of putting myself back together has been a long one. It’s ongoing, and it’s not something I can just grit through.”

“I know. I mean, I don’t know, but I get it. I see someone on and off, too, and I get it. I’m glad you have someone who can help you sort through this.” I hesitated, wanting to understand. “Can I ask you a question? If today’s not the day, just say so.”

“It’s fine. What do you want to know?” he asked, only partly wary based on the look on his face.

“Which question bothered you most? Or was it all of them?”

“You might think it’s the ‘how many people have you killed,’ and that would bother me, except I’ve been asked it so many times by people who don’t seem to realize how incredibly inappropriate it is, I just ignore it now.” He folded his hands together and looked down at his fingers, but said quietly, “It’s the one about the Purple Heart.”

That surprised me. “Really? Why?”

He made a placid smile, like it was all the same to him if he told me, though I could see from the tension in his shoulders he hated talking about this.

“People seem to associate that award with heroism, but that’s a mistake. I did nothing to earn that—I got injured, and I was given an award. I got injured. My friend died, and I got a Purple Heart.”

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