Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Honesty Benitez had always enjoyed public speaking. If she hadn’t gone to school for nutrition, she liked to think she would have made a great international speaker. Alas, she enjoyed sticking close to her Chicago home, so she’d fallen back on her second love for a vocation: food.
Right now she was leaning on that love of public speaking, and her ability to engage an audience, for strength. Because standing behind this podium and reminiscing about her late brother would have otherwise taken her legs out from under her.
It wasn’t easy to talk about Christian, but it became almost impossible whenever her eyes landed on her parents, Freddie and Solana, who sat at a table in the front with tears in their eyes.
Christian dying six months ago had shattered all their hearts.
She kept her eyes on strangers in the room instead as she spoke about him.
She talked about how honored Christian was to serve his country as a combat engineer, how he’d lost his right leg below the knee in an IED explosion three years ago.
And she layered that into how much Refurbs for Vets, the charity hosting this event, had helped him during some of his darkest hours.
She also mentioned relevant information for the audience of veterans and their families.
Like how he’d learned to walk on a prosthetic limb—a shared struggle for many attendees tonight.
And how RFV had given Christian back his independence post-surgery, thanks to a house remodel that gave him plenty of room to move.
Not to mention psychiatric support—from traditional couch to equine therapy.
All of which had been provided by RFV.
But while she was here to talk about her brother earnestly and respectfully, she also kept many stories tucked close to her heart.
Like the way he couldn’t remember a joke even two minutes after hearing it.
Or how he never outgrew his love for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
And his determination to streak on Soldier Field during a Chicago Bears game—he’d succeeded.
“As my brother used to say…” She’d reached the end of her speech, but her words trailed off as her gaze snagged on a familiar figure at the back of the room.
His was a shape she knew by heart.
Dante Crane was half in shadow, one elbow on the table, glass in hand.
He was wearing a jacket and tie and staring through her with eyes the color of black coffee.
She couldn’t see them from here, of course, but like the shape of him, she also knew those irises by heart.
She’d stared into them plenty during the three years they’d dated.
“A-as my brother always liked to say,” she repeated, forcing a smile, “‘We’re here for a good time, not for a long time.’ Thank you.”
She dipped her head as people stood and applauded. The emcee met her on stage, leaned in and thanked her, and then took over the microphone.
She fought to hold her composure as she stepped from the stage, not wanting her parents to notice she was shaken. She didn’t want to worry them. They would assume the cause was speaking of Christian rather than the shock of seeing the ex she’d thought she’d never see in person again.
“That was incredible, Adella.” Her mother was the only person alive who called Honesty by her first name. She had been adamant about it. I gave my only daughter a beautiful name, and I will use it.
“Really incredible,” her father echoed.
“Thank you. I’m glad you were both able to be here.”
“So are we, but now I’m tired and we’re going home.” Solana, a shorter and plumper version of Honesty, had always been frank. “We’re up past our bedtime.”
“Speak for yourself,” her father argued. “I’m bound for the recliner and the television.”
“No need to stay.” Honesty kissed their cheeks, the sadness hovering between them evident. It was like losing Christian had left a presence instead of a void.
She’d been angry at first. A blast had taken Christian’s leg three years ago but had spared him.
And then a routine surgery to address nerve issues in his limb had killed him.
She would have loved to blame a human being, but the fault lay with a stray blood clot.
None of them had seen it coming. A casual Wednesday afternoon had morphed into a date none of them would forget.
As Honesty walked with her parents toward the exit, a few guests thanked her for her brother’s service.
She’d had to learn how to receive that. After all, she had Christian’s “service” to thank for him not being here.
But now, as one man lingered, telling a story about his son who had died of his injuries, she focused on the love of a father who missed his son.
Once her parents had been ferried off to their sedan, Honesty let go of her own dream of going to her cozy city apartment and kicking off these damn heels. She could use a drink. If ever there were a night for a cocktail, it was this one.
She pretended to scratch her neck as she checked the room for Dante. He was no longer at the table where he’d sat during her speech. Which meant he could be anywhere. Hopefully she’d down at least one drink before having to face him.
The theme music from Jaws hummed menacingly in her head.
“White wine, please. The driest one you have.” She dropped a tip into the jar.
A male bartender with red hair and a million freckles dipped his chin in affirmation.
There had always been a possibility of her path crossing Dante’s again. He lived in Los Angeles, not on the moon. Plus, Refurbs for Vets was Elijah Crane’s venture. When Christian had shown her the brochure, she’d clocked the Crane name and had nearly swallowed her tongue.
Christian had met Dante in passing a few times, but if her brother had remembered the surname, he’d never said. She hadn’t brought it up either.
After she and Dante had broken up, she’d cried in private and downplayed the breakup to everyone. Her problems had paled in comparison to her parents worrying about Christian being overseas in enemy territory. Her broken heart was child’s play when weighed against roadside bombs.
She sipped her wine. The well-dressed crowd appeared to have money to burn. She doubted a single other woman here tonight had rented the runway like Honesty had. She hadn’t been able to stomach spending eight grand on a dress she’d wear once.
“Looking for someone?” a smooth, elegant voice asked from just over her right shoulder.
Goosebumps crawled along her bare arms. She warned herself not to face him, not to expose herself to his handsome face and coffee-colored eyes up close. But then she turned around anyway.
“Hello,” she said as brightly as she could muster.
“Hello.” His brows pinched. “Are you as surprised to see me as I am to see you?”
So he hadn’t expected to find her here.
“Yes,” she admitted. “I am.”
“Eli asked me to show up tonight. He needed a Crane to keep up appearances.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, a sign that he was uncomfortable. She knew exactly what was coming next, even before the wave of sadness slipped over his face. “I’m so sorry about Christian.”
“Thank you. We miss him very much.” Her older brother by ten years had been a force to be reckoned with, even when he’d been stationed away from home. “So, you told Eli yes.”
Dante lifted his shoulders into a barely-there shrug. “I was available. You look… Wow.” He blew out a breath. “Amazing.”
“Thanks.” She swept both hands down her dress. The long, black formal was sleeveless and backless, perfect for an unexpected run-in with her ex.
“You look…” She searched for the right word. “Grown up.”
His cheeks were more sculpted, his jaw sharper, but it was his expression that made him seem older. More controlled. Stoic. Hardened. The twenty-one-year-old version of him had had a wild glint in his eyes and an easy smile.
He showed her his empty glass. “I could use a refill. How about you?”
Her wineglass was two deep drinks from gone. Rather than decline, she slugged it back and handed him her glass. “It was a small pour.”
“Sure it was. Nice to see you retained some of your skills from college.”
She watched him walk to the bar with his long gait and squared-off shoulders.
One of her other “skills” from college had involved Dante naked.
Either in his apartment off-campus, or in her dorm room when her roommate was out.
The flutter in her stomach worked its way lower as she recalled the many things they’d done together in that tiny bed…
She shook off the memories and blew out a long breath. She blamed that reaction on being single for the better part of a year—not that Boyd had satisfied her in his clumsy attempts at intimacy.
She was grousing when Dante returned. Unlike him, every thought showed on her face.
“Everything all right?”
“Yes. Just tired.” She tried not to touch him when he handed her the wineglass, but their fingers brushed anyway. A little jolt of electricity shot through her.
Remember how he left, her heart reminded her.
And that he left, she mentally added.
It was hard to believe this was the same man whose virginity she’d taken. The same man who had been as dedicated to her as if they’d secretly eloped between keg parties. And now he was so…so…inaccessible to her.
The contrast was jarring.
“Beautiful speech, my dear.” An older woman, her husband in tow, stood a little too close to Honesty as she spoke.
“Your brother seemed like an amazing man. And to lose him to something as silly as a blood clot!” She put her hand on her ample bosom.
“I know you must be cursing out God for that one!”
Honesty opened her mouth but no sound came out.
“We lost our son overseas. It’s something you never get over.
And if I could, I would stand on that stage and tell everyone about him.
But I’m no good at public speaking.” Her eyes widened behind her glasses.
“Do you think I could tell you about him, and you could feature him next time? You would have loved my sweet Charlie. Should we exchange telephone numbers?”
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Miss…” Dante stepped forward and offered his hand.
Her eyes filled with tears when she squeezed his palm. “Mrs. Richter. This is my husband, Bert.”
“Mrs. Richter. Bert. Nice to meet you both. Do either of you know Evelyn Barter?” He gestured to the other side of the room.
The Richters each shook their heads. “You should introduce yourselves. She lost a son as well. It often helps to share our stories of grief with others who understand. You’d be doing her a great service. ”
“Well, I’d be delighted.” Mrs. Richter’s face rounded, her smile widening to show off pearly dentures. “Thank you. And it really was a beautiful speech, dear.”
“If you’ll excuse us,” Dante extracted his hand from hers, which took some doing. “I’m escorting Ms. Benitez to the balcony for some fresh air.”
Mrs. Richter turned to find Evelyn. Mr. Richter offered a slight nod as he scuttled after her.
“He was quiet,” Honesty said rather than point out how well Dante had handled that situation.
“Probably doesn’t have much of a choice.”
The wry delivery pulled a laugh out of her. Dante made a sound that might have been perceived as a chuckle. Who would have thunk that eight years later, she would be laughing with the man who had torn her heart into confetti?
“So, will you accompany me to the balcony?” He gestured. “I could use some air.”
“Um.” Before she could politely turn him down, she spotted Mrs. Richter heading her way, this time with Evelyn at her side. “Yes. Let’s go outside while we can.”