I drink a sip of Ben’s orange juice and skirt around the corner, self-conscious about my shorts. It was fine to sleep in my underwear with Ben, but a strange man can’t see me in my pajamas. I realize the twisted hypocrisy. “He won’t tell me. Evidently they’re pretty terrific, though.” I laugh a little. “You don’t strike me as a man who brunches,” I add on.
“I’m getting my greens in. Their Bloody Mary counts as vegetables, and they serve beer in brown bags. So, yes, I do brunch.”
“And I’m sure her tits are dessert,” Ben adds, butting in.
Cringing, I shoot him a dirty look. “Don’t be crass, Ben. It doesn’t suit you. It reeks of desperation.”
Tahoe laughs as he looks between us. “Ben didn’t lie then,” Tahoe remarks. Then to Ben he says, “Where’s your bag, dude? I’ll get it packed up when I drop my stuff off later. You got that new Kevlar in there? Don’t want you getting any holes in your pretty, perfect body.”
Ben looks at me, eyes wide. “He’s joking. Of course he’s joking,” he says, glaring at Tahoe for a second before turning his gaze back to me and my gaping mouth. “I’ll throw it in your truck, dude.” Tahoe looks taken aback and he realizes what he’s said.
“Sorry. I’m not used to filtering. You understand?” he says, eyes softening. “Ben’s body repels bullets. He can’t get shot even when he tries.”
“Oh my God, Tahoe. Shut the fuck up, dude!”
“Did you almost get shot?” I nearly yell. It’s one thing to suspect things given his job description, but it’s quite another to hear them spoken about as truth. My heart hammers.
“Which time?” Tahoe laughs.
Ben punches Tahoe’s arm. It’s lighthearted because they’re laughing, but I feel like someone signed my death sentence. Ben’s death sentence. I’m still breathing heavy when Ben returns from bringing his huge bag outside. Tahoe’s loud truck pulls away.
I’m standing in the same spot. Tahoe said his goodbyes and I must have mumbled through them, but I don’t recall just what I said. Visions of Ben bleeding out, bullet holes peppered throughout his body, overtake all sane, rational thoughts. My perfect life has never been more glaring than right now, when I realize that while I’m worrying about exams and jealous boyfriends, Ben is dodging bullets and praying he escapes with his life. The attacks changed everything in our world, but in my universe, they damaged the one thing I hold dearest.
Ben and I aren’t the same anymore.
The door slams behind him, pulling me from my nightmare. He’s breathing heavy from toting his huge bag and his abs flex and cave as he breathes. “Get dressed. First up is the comic book store. Then the beach and ice cream,” he says, waggling his brows.
Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I throw myself into his arms. “Maybe we can do some Jazzercise first?” I whisper through ragged breaths.
He chuckles under his breath. “Sure thing, geek. I’ll dig out my sweat band.”
Chapter Six
Harper
“That one is definitely Jim Carrey from Dumb & Dumber,” I say, pointing at a cloud. We’ve played this game since we were small. Animals are too easy, so the clouds have to resemble characters from movies or shows. “Ten points for me.”
“Yeah, I see that. Ten points awarded,” he mumbles, irritated I’m ahead. “The clouds are always best at the beach.” He has a huge blanket spread on the soft sand. It’s a beach on his base, so it’s empty but for us. It’s strange, to be honest. I grew up here and we never had military access, so we were always packed into the popular beaches like animals.
I think how fluffy and beautiful the clouds are on the East Coast, but I don’t say it. It would make this moment less somehow. “Yes. Especially when we don’t have to worry about people stepping on us.”
“It’s nice, huh?” he asks. He’s actually curious. I haven’t been exposed to his military world and I can tell he’s doing it incrementally.
Rolling toward him, I prop one arm up on my head so I can look down at him. “When I can’t hear gunfire, sure, it’s nice. Are you happy? Does this kind of life make you happy? Happier than you’d be with…” I say, almost saying me. “Than college and studying stuff that interests you? Don’t get me wrong, Ben. I’m proud of you. So proud. But as your best friend I need to hear you tell me you’re happy with this life.” My gaze skirts to the dark buildings on the horizon—the place the bullets are firing.
He turns to look at me, squinting in the sun. He refuses to wear sunglasses. He says after years and years of wearing corrective lenses he’ll never wear glasses of any sort again. While it’s idiotic, it also makes sense. I shade his eyes with my palm so the sun is deflected. He smiles. “They’re practicing right now. I’d be at the range if I wasn’t here with you. I’m not sure how to answer, Harper. I’m happy knowing I’m making a difference. Before you ask, yes, I am making a difference. Will I go down in history books? Who knows?”
He licks his lips and I keep my hand in place. “You know I had a hard time understanding your reasoning, but I give you credit. You’ve been steadfast with your decision for a few years now. Will you stay in the Navy forever, then? Is this it for you?”
“Deep questions when I have a belly full of salted caramel, Harpee,” Ben replies, sitting up. Now he’s looking down at me, so I sit up as well. “I’m happy.” I want more. He knows it. Biting the corner of his lip, he adds, “I don’t think school would make me happy knowing how messed up the rest of the world is. I’m not faulting you for your choice, but knowing what I know now…changes everything. There’s so much bad in the world. Stuff civilians have no clue about. Stuff that would change everything.”
I pick up the Spider Man comic book sitting on the blanket between us and page through. “Yeah, that’s true,” I whisper the words. “I want the best for you.” For so long I thought I knew what that was. Seeing him here in this element proves me wrong, tells me he’s where he needs to be regardless of how I feel. “Are you safe?” My thumb lands on the page where Spider Man defeats a bad guy and I sigh. I meet his gaze. I’ve ignored Tahoe’s comments from earlier all day. Right now seems the best time to bring them up. While I’m listening to guns firing.
He grabs my face with his thumb and forefinger. “Don’t worry about me.”
I’m indignant. “Someone has to! Telling me not to worry has never worked,” I sling, chewing on my thumbnail.
Ben gives me a crooked grin and grabs my wrist to halt my bad habit. I remember when that same grin went from a geeky smirk to a panty scorching smile and I blink away the memory from long ago. “I have, ah, girlfriends. I’m not lonely. Is that what you’re asking? If people worry about me?”
