Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Whit
L ow of me—I was better than that. I knew I was, and yet, Ben’s incredibly persistent reassurance was exciting, and good grief , did it make me feel good. Happy.
No. More than happy. Even with the awards coming and the stress tugging at so many parts of me, even though I could genuinely say if I didn’t win a thing, I’d be fine.
Yeah—just fine. I wouldn’t be happy I didn’t win. That wasn’t in me, and it never would be. But I’d be just fine, and a big part of that thinking stemmed from having Ben in my life. I’d been more alone than I’d ever realized until he came along and showed me—not only how lonely I’d been, but how wonderful it was to be with someone who I could just be with. I didn’t have to be on, I didn’t have to be working, I didn’t have to produce, or charm, or create. I could laugh and show him the good and bad .
And last night had been the bad. I knew it. It had been fishing, and I should have been more ashamed than I was. But he’d handled it beautifully, not calling me manipulative, but generously giving me what I needed, even if I was pained to admit it.
The bonus, too, was that now I knew a bit about his boundary, one that was clear even though thus far, it’d been unspoken. He’d made some kind of vow, and I’d bet it had something to do with his friend’s loss, or something.
We’d need to talk about that specifically. I wasn’t sure how I’d handle this closeness without actually getting to be fully together, because I was attracted to Ben in a way I never had been with anyone else. I wanted him in a way I never had anyone else.
I hadn’t dated many people. I dated one kid at the private school I went to in high school, though my freedom at that time had been so limited because I was practicing for six hours or more a day. In retrospect, I can identify times I’d had off, but during those years where I was starting to feel the suffocating effects of my parents’ insistence on piano and inability to talk about or hear anything else from me, I’d felt cornered. Relationships had been essentially impossible, and the kid hadn’t been interested in the limited access plan I was on.
And over the course of the last few years, I’d dated on and off, but I wasn’t someone who could connect with a person on a first date at a restaurant when everyone was listening in. Jamie and I had snuck up on each other by working together, but that relationship never went very far physically, and I think we were both glad for that since we enjoyed an easy friendship that wouldn’t be possible otherwise.
Maybe that was the magic of how I met Ben—I met him outside of the Nashville spotlight. And then, we’d spent time together in a casual setting, no date pressure, and it had been him showing me about his world at Fort Campbell, not me talking about music or taking him to an event.
Whatever the case, Ben was the person I felt the most for, and it was equal parts exciting and terrifying.
I want you so much, sometimes when you’re near me, I find it hard to breathe, that my mind curses myself for ever making a vow of celibacy that keeps me from having you every way we both want.
Was he trying to seduce me? Clearly not, but between the fire-laced look the other day in my room and his words last night… I didn’t like the feeling that my heart was being held in someone else’s hands, and that was how I was beginning to feel.
Not completely, of course. I’d added in my songwriter’s embellishment. But I was on increasingly shaky ground with myself as I continued to care for Ben, but hadn’t told him about the song.
When he left last night, I knew I should have just told him. I wanted him to know. And my stupid remark about him liking Taylor Swift who’d write a song about him… could I have been a bit more on the nose? “Stolen Moment” wasn’t a dating song, but it was a kind of love song, and I wished I’d told him the night we met. Or the next time I saw him. Or on tour. Or any other chance I could have taken that I’d wussed out on.
Now, I’d backed myself into a corner, and it welled in me, what I was going to do, and I prayed he’d be okay with it.
“Whit, honey, tilt your head up,” Amanda said, one finger on my chin to assist.
I was dog-tired, and just sitting up in the chair was killing me. I’d let myself float around in my head for the first half hour of hair and makeup, but the time had come to tune in.
I let out a long sigh and resisted the urge to slump. I’d not slept last night, and I don’t sleep on planes—I just can’t. We were done with rehearsals and heading out for some promotional shots the show would use the day-of, so I needed full hair and make-up. I wanted to go to the hotel and sleep for a day. Somehow, the drive up to the awards was making me drag in a way I didn’t usually.
Ben and I had been messaging through the day—my only highlight. I felt greedy for his words, his face, his voice. I wanted him in front of me, wished he could have come with me for the whole trip.
I understood why not. I did. But I couldn’t help wondering if maybe he could find something more flexible after the Army so maybe he could just… come with me all the time.
Whoa .
I’d been having more of those thoughts. More of those future-focused thoughts that betrayed what I already knew but wasn’t ready to admit.
“And open,” Amanda said, her minty breath wafting over my face as she finished brushing on eyeshadow. She stood back and looked back and forth between my eyes, held up a brush to one side and the other, measuring the liner. “Good. You can’t tell how exhausted you are.”
I frowned. “Thanks.”
“You’re burning that candle at both ends, my friend. You’ve got to sleep tonight and every night until the show, okay?” She flipped the brush over a finger and slid it back into her makeup tool belt, much the way an old gunslinger might have done his pistol .
“I know. I’m not trying to, but it has been insane. And the only time I’ve been able to have with Ben is late. So it’s not a bad thing he’s not here ’til Saturday.” I inspected my hands in my lap, hoping she wouldn’t see how pathetic I was, missing a man I’d seen less than twenty-four hours ago.
“Aw, honey. That happens when you’re in love. You’ll get through it to the sweet part—past the tortured part, and he’ll be here with you for Sunday, which is perfect.” She sprayed a setting spray on my face, and we waited a moment for it to dry.
She chattered on for a few minutes about the rest of the day, the rest of the week’s schedule, a friend she was seeing while we were in LA, and a few other things I couldn’t hear because my heart and mind were circling that statement like sharks.
That happens when you’re in love .
Was I in love with Ben?
Was that what this feeling was?
Ben
I hit send and sat back in my chair. What an insanely easy process to end one’s career.
It sank in, this giddy, terror-filled sensation that filled out my rib cage and crawled up into my throat. I popped up from my desk and stalked to Flint’s office. With one knock, I walked in without waiting and claimed the seat in front of his desk.
He took his time acknowledging me—typical. He could either be so absorbed in whatever he was working on or be intent on making a point about barging in without waiting for his invitation, but either way, it was just a matter of time until he’d deign to acknowledge me and we’d get on with it.
“And how are you today, Lieutenant Holder?” he asked from behind his computer screen, not yet giving me his full attention.
“Just submitted the packet. I’m done May fifth.” Saying it out loud sent a galloping sense of relief and excitement through me.
Flint appeared from behind his desk, a small smile on his face. Then he stood, so I did too.
“Congratulations.”
We shook hands briefly, and if we weren’t at work, he’d probably give me one of those obnoxious, almost-painful back-pat-hug things he did. I’d look forward to that.
“Feels good to have it done. I guess they’ll approve it and process it and everything, but as you’ve mentioned, there’s nothing to keep it from being approved at this point.”
There was always the fear something would happen, that they’d say I owed more time or something, but I hadn’t done anything to incur additional obligation, so there wouldn’t be.
“You should be all set. I’ll look forward to seeing the official word come through.” He sat back down. “Get the door for just a minute?”
It wasn’t so much a question as a direction, a command. That was certainly the Major Flint I’d become acquainted with in the last few years.
I closed the door and took my seat before he spoke again.
“So what’s your plan?”
He’d been asking me that question, in one form or another, for nearly a year and a half. Ever since we’d been back from Afghanistan, I’d had no idea how to put one foot in front of another. I’d rarely had an answer for him that was something I could act on and be proud of beyond “wake up tomorrow.” In the beginning, that had been the best answer I could give him, all I could commit to, and it had been what he’d wanted from me.
And now, I had an answer, and it felt surreal. “I think I’m going back to school.”
Flint nodded, like he’d known it. I’d roll my eyes about that later.
“Any idea what for?”
“I’ve got to narrow it down. Maybe counseling, or social work. Something where I’m doing what my therapists did for me. I’m not about to pursue a PhD—I’m not that into school—but I want to help people. I think that’s something that has changed for me. I guess, in the tritest sense, I want to pay it forward.”
“A worthy endeavor, for sure. And I know anyone you spend time with will benefit. You can be proud of what you’ve done here—in the Rambler Battalion, and in your company, and in your time in the Army over all. You can be proud of who you are now, and that you’re finding what’s next.”
“Thank you. I know you know this, but I’ll say it now, and I’m sure I’ll say it again at some point. I owe you too much to repay. I—” I cleared my throat, banishing the emotion for the moment to get this out. “I’ll never forget it.”
Flint’s jaw flexed, and he nodded. “You don’t owe me. Don’t believe that for a minute. If nothing else, you helped me get my head on straight about Erin, and for that, to you, I’d be forever grateful. But you’ve been a friend to me, even when it didn’t make sense and when I’m not the warmest guy. ”
We shared a knowing look, because that was saying it lightly.
“Anyway, we’re good. And I suspect Erin won’t let me lose touch with you, even if I try.”
I chuckled at that. “I think you’re right.”
“Or, if you keep dating my cousin, I guess I’ll never be rid of you.”
Inevitable, of course, but I’d thought maybe we weren’t going to work around to the subject of me and Whit after all the emotional thanksgiving.
“Well, I hope I do keep on. I’m flying out to be her date to the Grammys this weekend.”
I couldn’t suppress the smile that covered my face just thinking about it. I’d be nervous, but I was mostly excited to be with her.
“Saw the leave form.” Flint, though, didn’t seem as excited. “You ready for all of that? As soon as you’re out with her at something like that, your anonymity is gone. And there will be judgement and speculation and cruelty. Are you ready for that?”
He wasn’t saying it to scare me away or to try to school me about Whit’s life. He’d visited her, seen glimpses of it, and I’d gathered maybe she’d confided in him once or twice about the pressure she felt.
He didn’t say it because he didn’t want me with her—I didn’t think so. He said it because he knew I hadn’t always borne pressure well, and was checking.
“She’s worth it,” I said, a gentler smile on my lips.
Flint laughed once, an amused little sound, and then his eyes filled with a smiling pity. “Ah. So that’s how it is.”