Chapter 4
A few hours later, I should be resting but I’m coming back to the main building from a quick circle around the perimeter.
My ankle isn’t great, but it’s been walkable since Ben wrapped it. And I couldn’t sit still any longer.
Waiting has always been harder than anything else for me, ever since I was a little girl.
I’m a doer. If I get an idea, I waste no time in accomplishing it.
Whether that’s retrieving a ball from the walled yard of the village administrator when I was six or launching a large-scale rebellion against the greatest power in the known world, I always want to get it done.
And the higher the stakes, the more pressing my need to take action.
So I limped around the perimeter from post to post, checking in with the people on duty and confirming that all is quiet. Ben didn’t argue or try to stop me. He knows better than that. He simply got up, picked up his big shotgun, and followed me the whole way without speaking.
He’s been my shadow since Chad first hired him as my bodyguard in the Capitol. A lot has changed in the years since, but that never has.
When we return to the command station, he nods (very bossily) toward the plain sofa against the far wall.
I frown at him, mostly on principle, but I try not to be obstinate for the sake of obstinacy.
I go to the sofa, toe off my shoes, and stretch out my legs.
I review my notes once more and then try to rest for an hour so I’m ready at dawn for the military response.
Ben comes over after a minute with a blanket from the storage room.
I narrow my eyes as he approaches. If he thinks for even a moment I’m going to let him cover me up with that thing…
He shakes his head, appearing amused as he rolls the blanket up tightly and tucks it under my injured ankle. “It’ll do better if you elevate it.”
Oh. He’s right. Of course.
I’m not normally so prickly with him, but our kissing ruse earlier and then him almost getting shot seem to have rattled me.
As long as no one but Ben notices, it will be fine. I can pull myself together as I rest.
“You gonna try to close your eyes?” Ben asks. He must recognize I’m prickly because he keeps his tone relaxed and conversational. Like he’s asking for information rather than ordering me around.
“Yeah. Pretty soon. Sorry I’ve been in a mood.”
“Doesn’t bother me one bit.” His mouth twitches slightly.
I’m more used to seeing him with thick stubble or a short beard, so his clean-shaven face is still startling.
But his eyes are warm and amused, and he’s looking more grungy than he did before.
There’s a smudge of dirt on his forehead, like he wiped off sweat with a dirty hand, and his thick hair is rumpled messily.
That’s the way I’m used to seeing him. It relaxes something inside me.
“Everything has gone good. You want me to stay on the radio while you rest?”
“Nah. Ryan will let me know if anything happens.”
Ryan is the oldest of my regulars. In his fifties, he spent his life at a desk in the Capitol until he got fed up and joined us. He’s as organized and efficient as anyone I’ve got. He’ll stay on top of check-ins and make sure everyone on duty is safe and alert.
I can trust him. I trust all my regulars.
But I trust Ben the most.
“Okay. I’ll get some rest too then. I’ll be over there.” He gestures toward the far corner of the room where there’s another small seating group.
When we’re bunking down in unusual places, he usually stays close, but he must have decided I need some space right now.
He’s not wrong. I smile at his back as he lopes over and stretches out on one chair with his legs on another.
What would I ever do without him?
I don’t even like to imagine such a possibility. It causes a huge, dark wave to rise in my mind, threatening to swallow me whole.
Shaking the glimmer of despair out of my head, I focus on my notes, going over plans for each possible military response we’ve brainstormed for the dozenth time.
We’re in good shape. We’re ready.
My ankle feels better elevated this way, and I can relax for an hour or two.
I’ve put down my notes and readjusted to get more comfortable when I notice that Ben isn’t alone across the room anymore.
Chelle. She’s Gary’s sister, and she joined us as a semiregular last year. She’s probably in her mid-thirties. Smart and good-natured and beautiful in a sensual way with red hair and a curvy body.
I’ve always liked her and been glad to have her. She’s never done a single thing that caused me to question her participation.
But my spine suddenly stiffens with a surge of resentment when I see her expression and the placement of her hand.
On Ben’s thigh. And moving upward.
Fuck.
She’s coming on to him. No question.
And Ben is smiling back at her.
The surge of feeling that rises inside me is like nothing I’ve experienced before. I’ve seen him go off to fuck other women. Plenty of them. While I was never particularly happy about it, I’d shrug it off as natural. Expected. One of those things.
It never mattered that much, so I have no idea why this is eating at me right now.
But for some reason I don’t want Chelle to come on to him like that. I don’t want him to fuck her. Not seriously. Not casually. Not at all.
It’s not simply distaste that overwhelms me. It’s a possessive outrage.
Like she has no right to look at him that way, touch him that way.
It fills me so completely I want to scream or lash out.
But it’s wrong. It’s entirely wrong to feel that sort of entitlement to Ben. He’s my companion but not my man. He’s free to fuck whoever he wants. He deserves to be happy—whatever that looks like.
Why shouldn’t that mean finally having a woman for real?
And if that woman ends up being Chelle, then that’s just fine. Good, even. It’s great. I wish them the best. Every happiness in the world.
I turn over onto my side with my back to the room so I can’t see what’s happening over there.
They’re both on break, so they can sneak into a closet or out back for a quick fuck if they want.
I’ve never once tried to control my people’s personal lives.
I couldn’t care less who they’re with or who they do or don’t screw.
This weird possessive urge will go away. I can’t let it matter.
I lie stiffly, forcing my eyes shut tightly so I’m not tempted to turn back over and see if they’ve snuck away or if Chelle is still smiling at him.
Why the hell do I even care? I’ve never thought about Ben that way, and I can’t start now.
I’ve committed my entire life to a cause. There’s no room in it for anything else. I’ve made these decisions consciously, rationally, so I can’t resent not having the things other people have.
This is my life now, and it will be that way until I’m killed.
Nothing but the fight.
And, yes, I have people with me, beside me, and in my heart, but it’s not the same.
I’m alone. I chose it and I’ll keep choosing it because this is what I was born to do.
It doesn’t matter that sometimes it’s lonely. And it doesn’t matter if Ben fucks a woman who isn’t me.
I lie like that, my eyes tightly closed, and continue not caring. Several minutes pass, and I’m still not caring. I keep not caring so vigorously that I’m tense from it.
When I hear something moving right beside me, I jerk and roll over, startled to see Ben’s face only inches from mine.
He’s knelt down on the floor beside my sofa with his big pack. “You don’t mind if I rest here, do you?” he asks.
“N-no.” The word gets stuck in my throat, so I clear it. “No, of course not.” I peer across the room and see that Chelle is still over there, stretched out on the two chairs like Ben was earlier.
“Gave Chelle my chairs,” he says by way of explanation for his move.
He didn’t fuck her. He doesn’t want to fuck her. He had a perfectly good opportunity and turned it down. Now he’s stretching out on the hard floor on the mat he always carries in his pack. He lies on his back, his eyes focused up at me. “Y’okay?”
“Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Dunno. You’re lookin’ kinda shaky.”
“I’m not shaky.”
“Not outside, but inside. Everyone gets shaky inside sometimes.”
“I know that.”
“All I’m saying is I can tell when you get that way, and you are right now.”
“What’s your point?”
“My point is I can see it.” He’s eyeing me so closely it feels like he can see into my mind. “Anythin’ you wanna tell me?”
My cheeks feel hot. I have no idea why this is happening to me. I’m never trembly and uncontrolled like this. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“I sure wish you wouldn’t lie to me, Annabelle.”
He doesn’t actually say my name very often. Whenever he does, it hits home.
“I’ve told you everything I’m willing to tell you.” I clear my throat and can’t help but add, “For right now.”
He stares at me for another several seconds. But then he nods, his face softening into almost a smile. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t it be okay?”
“I don’t know. This is a ridiculous conversation. Can we please move on?”
He chuckles, the warm, familiar sound of it wafting over me. “Yes, ma’am.”