Page 76 of All of You

“I’m glad you have Thatcher at work. And hopefully a few others?”

He nodded. “Yes. There are a handful of others that are like brothers to me. It’s one of those things that military life does that few other jobs would. When you go through the things we went through, there’s a bond that will always be there. We’re like brothers, even though many of them, I wouldn’t choose to spend time with outside of work anymore. It’s hard to explain, but… that’s one of the things I don’t know how to walk away from.”

“If you leave, you’re not walking away from the people, right? You’ll still be their brother, their friend. You’ll still talk to Thatcher, you’ll still support Bec, and I am sorry to tell you, but I think Reese has added you to his rare collection of things he won’t let go of, so you’re stuck there,” I said with a teasing smile.

He chuckled. “Yeah, I’ll never be rid of Flinty, that’s true. You’re right—it’s not like I’m trying to burn it down. I just need a change. I’ve been talking with my therapist about this—trying to figure out how to make peace with doing the right thing for me while still allowing myself to process some of the other feelings.” He stopped and rolled his eyes. “I swear it was easier when I pretended to have my crap together.”

I leaned over and put an arm around him. “You not having your crap together is one of my favorite things about you,” I said, not able to keep back my laugh.

“Oh, the truth comes out!” He pushed me away with a playful nudge. “Enough about me. Let’s game plan so I can see you before you go because I’m one of those pathetic boyfriends who likes to see my girlfriend more than once a week.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Ben

Iwas now the owner of a bespoke suit.

I’d sent Bridgette a photo of the guy with his teeth full of pins crouching at my ankle while I stood on a pedestal in front of a mirror because I knew she’d freak out. And of course, she had, sending me a barrage of messages until she’d given that up and sent me a video call so she could watch everything in live action.

I looked good in that suit. How I’d feel next to Whit in some crazy formal gown, I had no idea. I wasn’t sure if I’d walk the red carpet or what, but there’d definitely be a thorough briefing of what to expect before we loaded into the car.

Whit would fly out early Wednesday morning, so once I got off work Tuesday, I rushed home to see her. I’d been feeling more and more needy—terrible timing, really, since I was also seeing her less and less. Why hadn’t I felt so desperate for her when I’d basically been living with her?

I knew why. This had all been, mostly, before we were really together. It was when we were no longer fake together that I let myself want her, need to see her, look forward to being with her. The only thing that had kept all of my interest, excitement, and desire for her under wraps had been the fact that we’d agreed we were friends and I was helping her. Once that had gone out the window, well… it was a miracle I had maintained any sense of calm since then.

In a way, it was good we couldn’t spend all day every day together. There’d be no way to play it cool then, and if I knew something about Whit, it was that she didn’t like people falling all over her. I’d gotten that sense the first time I ever saw her when I’d been momentarily speechless other than gushing out her name.

And so, the hour or so we’d had on Sunday had me eager for a few more minutes with her before she passed out to get a few hours of sleep in anticipation of her early flight. She’d be busy all week, and she’d also be busy all day next Sunday for the award show, so this was potentially my best shot to have some quality time, even if I wanted both the quality and the quantity.

But, beggars can’t be choosers.

She opened the door, and I kid you not, my heart skipped a beat at the sight of her. I’d seen her two days ago, but still, seeing her standing there in sweatpants, a T-shirt, bare feet, and hair in a ponytail, clearly in her comfort zone, had my heart hammering in my chest.

“Hey, honey.”

A small thrill shot through me at her calling me honey.

“Hi.” I then rushed her, kicking the door closed behind me and tossing her over my shoulder.

“Ben. What are you doing?”

She was laughing at the unexpected move, and I had to admit I liked the feel of her on my shoulder as I trotted into the living room and gently tossed her onto the cushions of the couch. I crawled over her and boxed her in, my knees on either side of her hips, my hands pressing into the cushion on each side of her head.

I brought my face close to hers and stared her down with squinting eyes.

“I missed you,” I said, enjoying her hands now coasting over my back under my shirt.

“That was a nice way to greet me. I’ll have to add some weights to my routine so I can do the same to you next time,” she said, letting one hand slip to my side and pinch my rib.

“Ah!” I squawked, and jumped up so she couldn’t reach me.

“No. No, come back, I didn’t mean that to make you go. It was just for emphasis.”

She laughed again, and the beauty of that sound floated around me, more beautiful than any song.

“That sounds like a line. I’m not sure I can trust you. My ribs are very sensitive.”

She chuckled again. “So I gather.”

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