Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Whit
I f this guy didn’t back up off me, he was going to get an elbow to the ribs, and I would not be responsible for any cracks or breaks.
We’d been rehearsing for twenty minutes, and already, Colton Danes had bumped into me, or come up behind me trying to look all cozy. The last straw was when he came up and set a hand on my hip and his chin on my shoulder, standing close enough that his whole body was pressed against my back.
Not cute. Not funny. Definitely not welcomed.
I kept my outward smile, not interested in making any more of a scene than this could turn into, and kept my attention in the direction of the choreographer who was explaining something I couldn’t focus on, and I said in a low, lethal voice, “If you don’t back up and stop touching me, we’re going to have problems. ”
His smooth, crooney voice—which should have been pleasing, but I found to be grating since I knew what was behind it—came too close to my ear. “Aw, baby, you know you like me bein’ close.”
I took an exaggerated step forward, tearing myself away from him, then turned to look, gave him the best do not touch glare, and moved closer to one of the other performers. After the meeting, I’d planned to approach the choreographer and ask if there was any way to have Danes share a mic with someone else, but she’d disappeared before I got off stage.
I could manage one more rehearsal and the actual performance. He was unlikely to make any moves when the cameras were live, but if I got a chance, I was going to talk to him and make sure he knew I had no interest. Maybe I’d been too polite. Maybe I’d smiled at him too warmly once.
Or maybe he was just an idiot.
Whatever the case, I’d make the lines clear.
A car was waiting for me outside the arena. I let my eyes shut on the trip. Though it should have been short, the traffic in LA made the two-mile drive turn into something like twenty-five minutes. I dozed off and only startled awake when the car came to a stop.
“Miss Grantham, we’re here.”
The driver was someone I didn’t know, and that was fine. I liked having Ru, but he was dealing with an ailing parent and had taken a leave of absence.
The driver held out a hand, and I happily took it. I was toast and didn’t know if I’d even be able to get food in me before passing out. Between still being on central time despite having been in LA for a few days, and generally feeling exhausted, plus not sleeping well thanks to nerves and everything floating around in my head, I was usually asleep by eight. That meant I was up early, but I didn’t mind.
Somehow, I woke still exhausted, but was able to get a workout in with Kendra over video chat and feel some semblance of normalcy. I was eating meals planned out for me and delivered to my hotel room, another small mercy in itself—I could eat whatever was on the plate, and I should eat all of it, and that was that.
By the time Saturday rolled around, I was nervous and trying not to bite heads off the people who asked me questions or tried to make small talk. I knew the nerves, that I was going to feel better in forty-eight hours, but I couldn’t lock down the feelings.
Feelings are exhausting .
So many darn feelings. I was nervous—wanting to win. Mildly sad, like always before a big event my parents wouldn’t even be watching, or more specifically, would be actively avoiding. It felt spiteful verging on cruel. Maybe it was. Always good fodder for my therapist, though, who every so often encouraged me to reach out to them and see if they were open to a relationship with very clear boundaries, but I hadn’t done it.
I didn’t want the judgement—didn’t want to see their disappointment. I didn’t want to walk out of my childhood home, if that’s what one would call it, and feel that bone-deep loneliness.
But then there was Ben. Ben helped. Ben made that loneliness nearly non-existent, and if I had him, maybe if I even walked out of those double French doors that hung at the main entrance, I wouldn’t feel the same way. I’d never had someone like him in my corner.
Reese would have been, but he’d been gone with the Army for most of my growing years. For some reason, he’d tried in the last five years to see me, know me, and be near me. Likely because we had the parental alienation in common, and he’d seen glimpses of what it was like growing up a Grantham.
The truth remained, I didn’t have close friends—a few people from Juilliard, but in the end, I’d been there so short a time, I hadn’t made strong bonds. I’d always had my mind on escaping, and part of me did regret that. I wished I’d appreciated the opportunity, but I saw it only for what it was for my parents and not what it could really offer me.
Ben was more than just someone to fill the loneliness, and the sizzling anticipation of showing him off to everyone in the world in just a few days filled me with new hope.
Ben
I pulled the door of the restaurant, the bell jangling loudly and causing an elderly couple in the corner to glare at me. I was meeting Bec and Thatcher for brunch before my flight to LA. Bec had messaged me and Thatcher and said she was ready to make peace, and she’d fill us in on her plans. We were told not to ask any questions—that she wouldn’t be responding unless we couldn’t make it.
Normally, I wouldn’t have wanted to meet up the day I was flying, but my flight was later—I wouldn’t get to LA until evening, unfortunately. I don’t know who booked the tickets, but since it wasn’t me, I couldn’t complain. They were getting me there to support Whit, and they were getting me home to avoid the ire of LTC Baker who’d made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that he would not sign off on me taking leave for even one day during the week, despite there being absolutely nothing on the training calendar.
So, one more point in that guy’s bucket, and one more thing I wouldn’t be sad to leave behind.
The hostess greeted me and led me to the table where I saw, from about fifteen feet away, Thatcher and Bec. Bec looked furious, evidently her natural state lately, and Thatcher’s back was to me, the set of his shoulders and neck tense, his spine straight as a steel beam.
They didn’t notice me as I approached.
“You’re not my brother,” Bec said in a voice full of venom.
“Trust me, I know that.” Thatcher’s voice was hard.
Bec’s jaw clenched as her eyes flicked up to take me in. “Ben’s here.”
Thatcher straightened further and turned as I walked closer to stand directly at the table.
“Everything okay?”
“Just fine. I’ve actually got to head. Good luck, Bec,” Thatcher said, with an abruptness I’d never seen before.
He stood, slid out of the tiny booth, and gave me a false smile.
People did that all the time—gave different smiles out like greeting cards, all false sentiment and empty promises. But not Thatcher. Seeing that thin stretch to his lips, the tension in his eyes and jaw… Bec better plan on talking.
“Have a great time tomorrow, and fly safe. I’ll be watching.” He patted me on the back as he passed and didn’t look back as he left, the bells jingling behind him.
I kept my attention on him as he exited the place to give Bec a minute, and frankly, to buy myself some time to recover from witnessing them at each other again and seeing Thatcher so visibly upset .
I plunked down into the booth seat, bouncing a little in the process.
“How were they going to fit all three of us at this table?” I asked, desperate for something that wasn’t so what’s the deal with you and Thatcher?
“They were going to bring a chair for the end,” she said, her voice calm, if a bit subdued.
“Ah.” Could the waiter maybe bring me some water, or a basket of chips, or something?
“We didn’t touch the chips, if you want them.” She nodded to the little red basket of fresh tortilla chips and the bowl of salsa. Rosita’s had the best chips of all time.
“Great.” I quickly shoved enough chips into my mouth to be comical, and also to keep me busy while looking over the menu.
The waiter came. I ordered their huevos rancheros because they were bomb and then turned my attention to Bec.
“So.” I folded my arms on the table and waited.
Her focus flickered from one place to the next around the room, and she sipped her water. “So. Thatcher asked me to meet him a few minutes early. We got into it, and now you’re on your own.”
“What does got into it mean for you and Thatcher?” I asked, chomping another chip despite it being nine-thirty in the morning.
“It means he came early to talk me out of what he somehow found out I was planning to do. I don’t know why he thought it’d be more effective without you, but he apparently did.” She crossed her arms, her legs, and leaned back in the booth.
“Okay. Tell me about that, then.”
She took a deep breath. “I got a job in Europe. At a base in Germany for their ed center. The perfect GS job popped up, and I applied, and got it, and I leave next week.”
“Next week? That’s… soon.”
I really hoped someone was recording this for posterity because my conversational prowess was at an all-time high.
Bec snickered. “Yep. Nailed that one, Holder.”
The unimpressed look I shot her made her laugh out loud.
“Tell me more,” I said just as the waiter brought our food.
“It’s going to be amazing. It’s actually a lateral move, but I’ve heard once you get into the European system, it’s a bit easier to move around over there, so hopefully, something will open up, and I can promote. But I get access to the base resources, though I have to find my own place, which I have some good leads on. I have a few friends who’ve done this, including my old boss, and I’ve been in contact with her.”
She sliced through a fried triangle of dough. This place served sopapillas as a brunch item and they. Were. Mind-blowing. If I hadn’t been about to be in a tailor-made suit in front of millions of people escorting one of the most beautiful women in the world, I would have ordered those.
“That sounds like a perfect opportunity for you. I can’t think of anything better, really.” I’d expected bad news based on all the tension wafting from the table when I came in.
“It is. Erin’s been telling me I should think about getting out of here—away from Tennessee, away from Fort Campbell, for over a year. For a long time, I felt like that was a betrayal. I felt like moving away was a kind of moving on that Dillon would never have, so it wasn’t fair for me to do.”
She focused on her meal for a moment, taking a bite, chewing, and if I knew her, composing herself so the emotions that seemed buried so deep wouldn’t try to surface.
“I understand. I’ve felt that way, even about my own stuff. I can see why it would be difficult for you.”
“I think I finally realized that all my traveling and getting away was my attempt to have little glimpses of life outside of here without the risk of actually moving, and without the guilt of it. But the last six months or so have made me realize I don’t want to be stuck here, physically or mentally, for the rest of my life.”
Her lovely brown eyes met mine, and I saw it there. The fear, the longing, the hope.
If she felt her travel had been more adventure-seeking and less evasion tactic, that was for her to decide. But, without a doubt, getting out of here would be good for her. She’d lived here for two years before her brother was killed, and now well over a year after. Watching her go through life without her brother, really her only relative she had in the world she saw regularly before he passed, was like watching something brutal and violent you couldn’t stop.
I felt nothing but relief that she was taking this step. “Why is Thatcher so upset about this? I would have thought he’d be supportive.”
She set her fork down and wiped her mouth with her napkin. The patches of red at her cheeks deepened, and it shocked me to see she was blushing.
“I’m not sure.”
I swallowed a particularly delicious bite. “Really?”
“Really. He nearly blew up as soon as I said I was leaving next week. He’s been hounding me for weeks, wanting me to check in with him and let him know I was okay. He’s got it in his head I’m this fragile creature who needs… something from him, and I don’t. I think he got up set that I made that clear. He’s acting like he’s trying to do what Dillon might have done for me—be this disapproving big brother. It’s really irritating.”
I couldn’t help the grin that jumped to my lips as she said that.
“I don’t think that’s quite it.” I had to be careful here.
“What do you mean?”
She tucked her short hair behind her ear, and that small action made me wonder when I’d see her again. We were a strange mix of close and not close at all, but we’d had Dillon in common for long enough now that I thought we’d stay in touch.
“I mean, I don’t think it’s as simple as him wanting to fill Dillon’s role. I know Thatcher cares about you, wants you to have a great life. I’m the same—I want you to have a full life and not be hobbled by the loss you’ve experienced, even if the grief will never leave you.”
Her face darkened, and mine must have, too.
“I want that for both of you, too,” she said, her voice low.
Nothing but that drop in tenor and the slight shake of her fork would have betrayed any emotion. Bec kept a lock down on herself like I’d never seen when it came to the feelings surrounding her brother, and the fact that her voice and her hand shook told me just exactly how unsettled she was by the conversation with Thatcher.
“I hope you’ll talk to him one last time before you go. I hate to think of you guys parting on bad terms, and you know it’ll tear him up.”
She had to know it would, even if she didn’t fully know the extent to which it would.
She nodded, her face sullen. “I know. I’ll… figure it out. ”
I reached across to where her hand rested on the table and patted it. “You will.”
I smiled at her, and she smiled back, and this time, it was a small but real one.
“Enough about me. Let’s talk about you dating the princess of Country music and not even telling me,” she said with an accusatory brow.
“I haven’t seen you. You may have noticed that I kind of freaked out about that, seeing as how I joined Thatcher on the hunt for you a few weeks ago. So it’s not like you’ve been available for updates on my love life.”
“ Love life?” she asked, her eyes wide and piercing as she watched me.
I took a bite, let myself chew and swallow carefully, returning her stare.
I wasn’t sure what she saw there, but she broke into a broad smile then, all teeth and sparkling eyes. “Good to know, my friend. Good to know.”