Finding Home: Halos and Heroes, Bk 1 - 12. Chapter 12

When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be.

—Lao Tzu

By the time I arrived at the coffeehouse at half past eight, it was packed. Finding Ben in the crowd wasn't easy, but I eventually spotted him standing third in line from the register, behind a slim, younger man with pretty features, who was currently placing his order with a barista. The guy was wearing a t-shirt so glaringly white, it had to be brand new. Not even bleach could bring that initial brightness back once whites had been put through a few wash cycles. He’d paired it with bright pink skinny jeans, and black flip flops. The vivid color of his jeans, the platinum of his short, spiked hair, and the hot pink polish on his toes, all screamed Miami Barbie, but he rocked them with enviable confidence; obviously someone who knew exactly who he was, and whomever didn’t like, it could go screw off.

He turned as if he felt my silent assessment, and slowly swept me from head to toe with a cheeky smile of invitation that turned his blue eyes into little half-moons. I hid my own smile in my fist, then tilted my head slightly toward Ben who still had his back to me as he perused the coffee menu. The man’s smile deepened as he caught on, teeth as white as his t-shirt. High maintenance all the way, but the mischievous wink he shot me, assured me that under different circumstances, he’d probably have been a good time for one night. Not because he was actually my type, but simply because someone that damn bright, was bound to be memorable. Unfortunately for my new friend, Ben was standing up there as well, so Pinky got no more than a silent, dasvidanya, comrade.

Thankfully, his flirtation initiated a much-needed confidence boost when I looked Ben over.

Because well… Damm.

Before leaving home, I’d rehearsed how I’d gently insist on this being just a coffee date, then have Ben bring me home afterward. I’d had the speech locked down. Seeing him in the flesh right now, made all my former resolve vanish in a poof of bippity, boppity, fucking boo. All intentions of continuing to play the strong, stoic Sam card, went the way of Cinderella’s pumpkin, and all that was left was a man who was out of his depth.

Ben was always handsome. But now that I’d taken steps towards giving myself permission to truly appreciate every possibility that began, and ended with him, by actually showing up, his appeal was infinitely intensified. He had on blue jeans again, this time with black and white converse sneakers; Kid shoes, but he pulled them off, because there was nothing remotely adolescent about the way those blue jeans sat just right on his ass, held up by that pert, tempting curve instead of a belt. A copper orange t-shirt was left untucked over them. The material wasn’t tight, but it hugged his broad shoulders and torso more flatteringly than anything else I’d seen him wear before. It wasn’t a color everyone could pull off, but it made Ben’s naturally bronze skin seem to glow from within; almost an incandescence that a wordsmith might’ve said came deep within his soul.

I wasn’t that poetic. Sexy. Gorgeous. Good Goddamn, would have to do. Because while Ben’s current clothing hid most of the hard angles and ridges of muscles I’d caught glimpses of at the beach, and when we went running the other day, all the kisses we’d shared, and all the touches he’d allowed to linger each time he pulled me close … Oh yeah, my mind could work with those, and fill in the blanks with an embarrassing lack of effort.

Sexy. Gorgeous. And all that could be mine…

It could, right? Sure, my family wasn’t out of the emotional equivalent to the dark, Grimm’s Fairy Tale’s, Black-Forest-Woods just yet, but they were doing better. Tara had taken Emma to her place tonight for a babysitting sleepover I’d been informed would include ice cream sundaes, and a Disney Princess movie marathon. Addie had taken her mom’s car and gone with Cayden to another coffeehouse that featured local artists, to see a band they both liked. Sofia had driven my SUV to the Mexican restaurant where she was meeting A.J. She’d texted me to let me know she’d arrived safely, then asked if I thought she could eat cheese and spinach quesadilla’s—her favorite—without getting any spinach in her teeth. I’d texted back that even if she did, A.J. would be more than happy to retrieve it with his tongue, because for some reason unknown to God, and straight men alike, A.J. was a pro at the traditional barfly, cherry stem trick.

Sofia hadn’t texted me back. She’d probably turned the color of radishes, but that was ok. Blushing around a guy she was into was normal. Healthy. It meant she was alright. They were all alright, because she and her daughters were all with people I trusted. Tonight, I could just breathe, and enjoy whatever fate had planned for me. Starting with appreciating the current view.

When Ben grinned and returned the wave of one of the baristas in obvious familiarity, he earned himself a few more waves from others in between their frenetic movements taking, and filling orders. I snorted softly beneath my breath as I made my way towards him. He might’ve stopped hooking years ago, but that learned charm, combined with his natural warmth—and ridiculous love of over-sweetened java— meant he probably broke hearts around here regularly. He’d said he was pushing forty, but he looked barely thirty, and still maintained the handsome, male beauty that must’ve attracted clients in droves. Even the bright, natural silver highlights streaking his still thick, dark hair, didn’t detract from his obvious appeal. On some men, the gray might’ve read as old, but on Ben, they exuded a sense of wisdom and experience. A man anyone would be lucky to know, and even more fortunate to get into their bed.

He probably had a long line of wannabe suitors on that list, but one I actually knew about, was suddenly standing almost beside him after obviously working his way through the line, because he was thanking the smiling, middle-aged woman who let him cut in front of her so he could be behind Ben. I recognized Whelan’s hair before I registered his face.

Sonofabitch.

I’ve been so focused on checking out Ben, that I hadn’t seen that somewhere else in the line, Andrew Whelan had also been awaiting a caffeine fix. Ben and Whelan exchanged a quick embrace that wasn’t a fraternity level, ‘bro hug,’ or anything even remotely sexual. I expected platonic affection from Ben’s side, but Whelan’s restraint read like interactions I’d had with members of my old teams. Brothers in arms and all of that. That didn’t mean I wouldn’t have taken the sure bet, that Whelan would’ve been happy to let Ben into his bed if that scenario had been offered. But in that brief interaction, it was obvious to anyone with eyes, that they were actually friends. Good friends, respectful of boundaries.

My earlier jealousy felt petty now, and I sighed inwardly.

Man the fuck up, Trammell. No one’s standing in your way except you.

I sighed after my attempt at raking my fingers restlessly through my hair was thwarted by the styling product Adelyn had made me put into it so the hair would, “work” with the jeans, and cadet blue t-shirt a few shades darker than my eyes, that was just this side of a muscle-tee. It was appropriate to the heat, and to Florida in general, but I still felt self-conscious because out of my comfort zone didn’t begin to cover it. I was used to dressing for efficiency and stealth, to hide in plain sight, not turn heads. I’d had a, delighted-to-be-useful, Emma, snap the photo I sent to Max to get the yay or nay. He didn’t date in the traditional sense, but he knew how to dress to get all eyes on him when he was off the clock. I’d gotten a flame emoji in response, then three links; one was to a local, highly rated shop that specialized in both ink and piercings. The second was a link to a page of varying styles of titanium nipple rings. The last one was for an adult’s toys website, and specifically, a certain butt plug. Before I’d finished my indignant WTF huffing, I’d gotten another text from him.

Max: It’s like the male version of the ever-so-popular-with-the-ladies, pocket rocket. I know it’s been a while.

“Jackass,” I’d muttered.

I’d saved the page.

Right now, I focused on my goal. A goal who was currently smiling up at Whelan. I hadn’t realized the cop was either my height, or slightly taller. He’d never have made it as an operative with that blazing hair, or equally bright smile. There were as many eyes shooting discreet glances his way, as Ben’s. It made me wonder how many people had purchased that fundraising police calendar and decided it could be July all year long.

Like Ben and I, Whelan was wearing jeans. His black t-shirt clung to his muscled torso just as much as his uniform shirt had, but considering what I was wearing, I kept all stones to myself. I assumed he was off the clock despite the discreet gleam of his badge on his hip, but to be fair, cops were like military personnel; never truly off, even when they were supposed to be. I was technically a civilian now, but my absentminded, threat assessment instincts were probably the same as his.

I made my way over to the counter where baristas were still moving at a speed track pace. I indicated Ben’s form when I had to cut through the line myself, ignoring the minor grumbling. Instead, I focused on Ben. I was amused to overhear him ordering a complicated iced coffee drink, that had more crap in it than a human being should digest in a week. Whelan ordered something similar, but my internal judgment was put in check when I heard him ask the barista to write, Rita, on the cup, before he placed a second order for a black coffee with a single sugar. It wasn’t a stretch to assume who that one was for, and I hated that something as simple as being uncomplicated about his caffeine choices, made me like him just a bit more.

"Hey," I said dropping a light hand briefly to Ben’s shoulder, just to let him know I was there. Instead of moving away, Ben sidled closer, smiling up at me. He’d shaved since I’d last seen him earlier this afternoon. I was tempted to brush my knuckles against his cheek to see if his skin felt as soft as it looked, but I controlled the impulse.

Barely.

Instead, I offered my hand to Whelan. “Nice to see you again, Seargeant Whelan.”

“Ditto, Seargeant Trammell.”

The lack of surprise in his eyes made me suspect that during the few minutes they’d been talking on the line, Ben had filled him in on the fact we were meeting here. That made me feel more generous when I smiled. “I retired. Sam is fine.”

Whelan’s lips twitched slightly before he nodded. “Fair enough. Call me Andrew.”

Look at us being all civil, and sharing the toy we both want so we don’t accidentally yank its legs off.

“Thanks again for your help at the funeral, Andrew. I appreciated the assist. I wasn’t in the best headspace that day.”

Understatement of the year.

“It’s alright. I have family who’s still serving. Air Force and Navy. I’ve also been a cop for sixteen years, so I get it.” He grinned, before adding, “I’m older than I look. Growing up in an Irish Catholic household as part of a baker’s dozen, meant my siblings and were knocked into next week so often, it became an effective antiaging system.”

My laugh escaped before I caught it. "I have a friend whose an only child, but he says the same thing. He’s not Irish or Catholic, but Southern Baptists believe in the power of wooden spoons, and switches you select yourself.”

“Brutal.” Whelan’s dimples deepened, and I realized he’d relaxed just like I had.

“Anyway, I know you two have plans, so I won’t keep you. I was just grabbing coffee for my sister, Rita, and me. I’m off tonight, and her husband’s on a business trip for a week, so it’s her and her six kids, all boys. Caffeine, and some Uncle Andrew time, means she maintains her sanity, and I don’t get reminded in a million text messages throughout the night by her five feet nothing self, that even at 6'4, I’m her little brother, who used to adore her, and would’ve done anything for her. By the time she starts in on how much she misses that little brother, I’m toast. This,” he said, holding up both coffees in their little cardboard carrier, “is the safest option for all.”

Ben’s laughter mingled with mine when Whelan rolled his eyes.

“Brutal,” I said, quoting him.

He made another face, then smiled before excusing himself and heading to the door.

“Hey,” Ben said once Whelan had left, “I ordered you a plain black coffee. That ok?"

I nodded, but on a whim, I leaned over to ask the barista making Ben’s latte, if they had organic Ceylon cinnamon. When he answered in the affirmative, I requested a teaspoon of it, and half a teaspoon of turbinado sugar, to be added to my coffee. He gave me a thumbs up. From my peripheral vision, I could see Ben smiling as I paid for both drinks.

"Stepping outside your comfort zone tonight?’

“You have no idea.”

“Do you want to tell me now?”

I put my change into the baristas tip jar after we shuffled further down the line to pick up our orders when the people in front of us moved. Ben smiled as he took his drink from me, watching as I took a sip of my own, obviously pleased I was willing to try something new. Emboldened by his approval, I took things a step further, and reached for his free hand with mine. His surprise was palpable.

“Nah,” I said, responding to his previous question. “When have I made anything easy for you?”

“Touche.

Laughing, we wove our way through the throng of patrons to find ourselves a corner booth away from the center of the cheerful chaos. Situated safely in our overstuffed, vinyl-covered alcove, the elevator music blasting from the speakers was acceptable. Having to yell across a table was a deal-breaker for me. It was one of the reasons I didn't hang out at night clubs unless I was playing wingman for Max. If I was going to have a sore throat, it was going to be from a cock abusing it, not from trying to make small talk over pounding bass.

We had to let go of one another as we sat on opposite sides of the booth. I’d never liked the sitting side by side situation, because it inevitably ended up giving me a stiff neck. My side also faced the main door, which I preferred. Old habits die hard.

“I’m happy you showed up. I was wondering if you’d end up being delayed by aliens taking over the world, or maybe Emma just needing to have a Barbie doll shoe fashion show tonight. I know from personal experience, just how time-consuming jamming their stiff rubber feet into those unyielding, tiny plastic shoes can be.”

“Fortunately for you, there was no Cinderella situation going on. Tara is babysitting tonight, and Addie is out with Cayden, and some friends to listen to a local band they both like. Sofia’s having dinner with A.J. That’s as much as I know about that, because anything past that makes me feel gross.”

Ben laughed when I made a face. “Sounds like everyone is accounted for, so I have you all to myself tonight. Lucky me. Though I didn’t know A.J. was still in town.”

“Apparently there was a job out here that he took for his firm. It was a short-term thing, but then he decided to stay a little longer. He can work virtually and has some friends out here other than me. He’s also hoping to overlap his vacation time with Max, if he gets here soon.”

“Ah. Have you gotten an ETA for Max?”

Ben’s voice was way too casual to be truly casual.

“No. I talked to him briefly last night. We’ve been texting back and forth since I got back here. He’s supposed to spend some time with his parents, then come down. The last time he saw his folks, we were together. It’s easier to keep the peace between him and his dad when I’m there. But considering Max was shot taking down a terrorist, the Colonel will probably approve. His mom will baby him until he can’t handle it, because he hates being fussed over. That’ll be his cue to fly down here like his butt’s on fire. He’s always been more comfortable with Sofia and the girls, especially when Connor wasn’t around.”

“He and Connor didn’t get along?”

“Max can get along with almost everyone. Like A.J., he’s charming, and could have a conversation with a rock if he had to. But he’s got a hotter head than A.J. does. He’s an only child, versus A.J. being the lowest in his sibling hierarchy. Max started late with Connor and me at age fourteen, so between not having to share his toys with brothers or sisters growing up, and having a do-no-harm, but take-no-shit personality, he and Connor locked horns a lot. Especially when it came to me.”

“Like a true sibling rivalry, with you in the middle.”

I shrugged. “Max has always been protective of me. He spent a lot of time having my back, to get me out of trouble that Connor generally started. He also loves Sofia like a sister, so whenever Connor got a little too mouthy with her, and I wasn’t fast enough to handle it myself, Connor usually ended up with Max’s fist in his mouth.”

I took another sip of my coffee, letting the cinnamon infused flavor spread out across my tongue. Ben looked at me sympathetically.

“That must’ve been difficult, caught in the middle all the time.”

I shrugged again. “I could usually muzzle Connor as long as he wasn’t drunk. That was when the verbal decimation of everyone, and everything happened. He’d go after Max and me for being gay, after our parents for not taking care of us properly enough, and after Sofia for any perceived transgression in his head, like flirting with random men, even though the only guys she hung out with were us. When he went after Sofia, those almost always became fist in the mouth moments.” I set my coffee on the table. “But he never got physical with her, and he always apologized profusely afterward, with promises to get his shit together. He usually did for a couple of months. Then the cycle started again. We knew better than to think it’d get better and he’d change, but he was family, so Sofia and I always forgave him, especially after she got pregnant with Adelyn.”

“Family ties can be very complicated. Sometimes they defy logic.”

“Yeah. Max had a harder time with it. As far as he was concerned, Sofia and I were his family. He refused to let anyone hurt us in any way, so the relationship between him and my brother was always strained. Thankfully, Max didn’t know about the domestic abuse either, or he’d have been in handcuffs before I even got on a flight down here. Neither of us tolerates bullies, but Max has an extra soft spot for women and kids.”

“And yet, he doesn’t want a family of his own one day?”

I picked at a sugar packet from the little white caddy, then neatly moved the entire thing away from Ben, tucking it beside my right arm, out of his reach. I’d seen exactly how much sugar and flavored syrup had gone into his drink. I couldn’t sit by and watch the slow death of his tooth enamel. The dirty look I got for my heroic act, made my lips curve into a grin that darted Ben’s brows downward into deeper disapproval. It was ridiculously gratifying to see two things proven; 1) the theory that sugar was more addicting than cocaine and 2) a mini tantrum from Father Benjamin Santiago, who looked like a kid being denied a pixie stick, was pretty fucking adorable.

“I don’t know. He’s always said I’m his family. Me, Sofia, and the girls.”

“But he didn’t want a life with just you?”

“No,” I said, my smile pitching the left side of my mouth slightly upward when Ben murmured, “jackass,” beneath his breath. I knew that wasn’t meant for me. At this rate, he’d be leveling up to quarter fines in no time.

“If you’re asking if Max loves me, then yeah, I know he does. Will he ever accept it enough himself to actually tell me with words? Probably not. He’s shoved every possible man, woman and more that he possibly could between us. I held on for years, embracing that quote about the definition of insanity.” I shifted the sugar caddy a little closer to me, not because Ben was eyeing it—though he was—But because it gave me something to toy with while I got my thoughts together. “I think…he tried once. But I don’t remember the details, and he never brought it up again, so it could’ve just been wishful thinking on my end.”

“What do you mean?”

The sip I took of my coffee, warm and spiced, gave me a grounding point as I tried to recall a memory that had been fuzzy as hell six years ago, and now, felt more like the transparent remnants of a distant dream.

“After we were rescued from the ambush that took out my team, we were medevacked to the nearest military hospital, which was the one Max worked at. The whole night’s a blur. The doctors told me that I almost bled out before we landed, and after the surgery to remove the bullets, and replace all the blood I’d lost, I was put on a lot of antibiotics and some serious painkillers. It was a rough night, and don’t recall a lot of it. It’s more like a faded dream than a memory. But I do remember seeing Max’s face when I first woke up…” I glanced up at Ben. “I’ve never seen him look so panicked, and so relieved at the exact same time. He’s one of those people who’d probably thumbs-up the press on a perp walk,” I said, my lips curving into a fond smile. “Vera says that the day they handed out brains, he got an extra helping, which didn’t leave room for common sense.”

Ben chuckled. I took another sip of my coffee.

“But when I woke up and he kissed me, I felt like there was something different between us. Something so fragile, it needed a very delicate hand. Unfortunately, I was so damn high, I wasn’t firing on all cylinders.”

“What happened?”

I sighed. “I don’t know,” I said honestly. “What I actually remember, and things that I was told happened before that, overlap, and could be influencing one another.”

“Like what?”

“Weeks after I was discharged from the hospital and was recovering at Max’s, I found out Connor had outed me to the doctors. He told them Dev was my partner, so he could get up to see me in the ICU. Max and his attending had handled it, so it didn’t become common knowledge. Max said he’d told me that at the hospital too. I didn’t remember, but when he said it that day at his place, it seemed to make sense and click in my head because of a scrap of memory I had.” I batted the sugar caddy back and forth between my hands lightly, the plastic bottom scraping with a soft scritch on the Formica surface.

“I think I might’ve told him I’d be willing to be outed if it was for him. I don’t know if I told him I loved him, or just said that, but the meaning would’ve been the same.” I swallowed, because this was the haziest part and yet the one, I’d most wanted to believe for the longest time. “If I close my eyes and really think about it, I can almost swear that at some point Max tried to say he loved me, but I stopped him.”

Ben took a sip of his coffee, hazel eyes tracing my features. No judgment, just attentively watching, likely wondering if I was ok. “That’s what you think happened?”

I pushed the little caddy back into its previous spot by my elbow. I’d never fidgeted in my old life, pre-PTSD, and it always irked me when I caught myself now. “I don’t know. It’s all fuzzy, but even if he did say he loved me, it just wasn’t the right timing. He thought I was going to die that night. And I guess yeah, it makes sense that an event like that might make a person realize their true feelings for someone else. But he didn’t say the words again the next morning, or during any of the eight months when we were together monogamously.”

Ben’s brow arched in surprise. “He wasn’t sleeping with anyone else?”

I shook my head. “At first, I assumed it was because I was recovering at his place, and he didn’t want to leave me alone while he hooked up. But once I got stronger and was back to running every morning and working out, there wasn’t any reason for him to worry about needing to be there for me. But he was, and it was just us for eight months… something neither of us acknowledged, until that night he and I were in the hotel room. I had full sense of all my faculties when I told him I wanted to lose the latex, so when he turned me down that time, I knew what that meant for the two of us.” I huffed out a slow breath. “Max might love me, but he can’t let me in. We kept screwing around like rabbits, and protected one another against everyone, and everything, like we always had. But that fragile thing between us that had been an, almost-fucking-maybe… it was gone.”

I exhaled slowly again. “Until that night, I’d hoped he’d change one day, and that we could be happy together, just us. I think I always felt that way, because he used to be the only person whose ever truly felt like home to me...”

Time to put up, or shut up, Sam.

I didn’t reach for Ben’s hand, but I laid my own on the table, palm up. I felt stupid as fuck, at this epitome of a chick flick moment, but the desire, and warm gratitude in Ben’s eyes made my small effort worth it. I didn’t have to tack on the words, ‘till now,” to that sentence. When Ben’s fingers laced firmly with mine, I knew he’d picked up on my past tense usage and read between the lines.

“Family is complicated. I know that all too well.”

A brief sadness flickered in Ben’s eyes. I instinctively squeezed his hand to soothe it away. Like I’d told Cayden, a sad Ben felt like a crime against the universe.

“You’ve never tried reaching out to your parents or siblings again?”

Ben tapped the fingers of his free hand lightly on the table as he shook his head. “Not for years. I tried calling my parents when I finally left the life, then again after Charlie died, and I started in seminary. It went to the home answering machine both times. Each time, I left a long, extended message explaining everything that had happened up till that point, as well as where my life was taking me. I also left my home and cell numbers for them to reach me, but I never heard back. I waited an entire week before I resigned myself to the fact that they’ll never be able to accept me. I didn’t bother trying my siblings.”

“Why not?”

“Because our family was pretty traditional in terms of our parents being the matriarch and patriarch of our family. They were both the oldest in their own, so, whatever they say is the way things are, and will always be. Except for Catherine. She’s the youngest. After she married her husband Raul, they moved to Clearwater where he worked, before they left for Havana after his company transferred him. She and I have a good relationship, because she marches to her own drummer.”

His fond smile made my own lips curve.

“Do you get to visit her often?”

I haven’t seen her in a couple of years. We talk on the phone at least twice a week though. She and Raul are expecting their first child soon, so I’ll visit once the baby is born, and I get the all-clear that my family has come and gone for their own visits, if they manage to get up there before I do.”

“I’m sorry Ben. That’s got to be tough.”

It was his turn to shrug. “I’ve learned to live with it. Catherine’s a part of my life, and my nephew, or niece, will be as well. I’m good with that.”

“True, but if you ever feel the need to borrow a certain 17-year-old because you want to experience being an uncle to a teenage girl, just let me know. I’ll keep the 7-year-old though.”

Ben chuckled. “Things seemed better between you and Adelyn earlier today.”

“We’re making some headway. She put me through a boot camp version of, straight eye for the queer guy, when she found out I was seeing you tonight. Apparently, all the women in my house are, ‘Team Ben’ ?”

He snickered and took a sip from his frothy confection. “It’s an amazing team.”

“Uh huh. Did you know there’s a difference between hair gel, hair mousse, and a cream that holds like a gel, but still leaves your hair soft?”

“I do now. Which one did you go with?”

“Adelyn chose for me. I think it’s the cream that holds like a gel, because it doesn’t have that overdone bacon crunch to it. At least it’s not in my face. I never wore my hair buzzed once I switched military units. Scruffy was okay. Sometimes looking like a problem was even better. Most of the places we went to, didn’t require clean cut metrosexuals.”

Ben swiped some of the whipped cream off of his drink with his pointer finger, then licked it off before he swept me with a slow look that raised the little hairs on the back of my neck. It felt almost too intimate for public display. Ben and I were the only same-sex couple in the room as far as I could tell, but I'd always found that a difficult thing to gauge. Just because two people were wearing wedding bands, didn't mean they were married to one another. That sense of not knowing had always protected me from my own paranoia in the past. Two guys could hang out together without it being anything more than buddies chilling out. But feeling the subtle pressure of Ben's leg against mine beneath the table confirmed that this was definitely a thing.

Ben didn't mention it, but I knew the contact was deliberate when he offered a wide smile. It was more sweet than sexy, as if he was pleased with himself for being slick. I had to fight my immediate inclination to press closer. After so many years in the military, I was a cliché who liked systems of order and regulation. Unfortunately, I also seemed to really like this.

“Well, I think they were very successful, though there’s something both endearing and disturbing about your nieces trying to get you laid.”

His grin said he was teasing, but I knew I still looked properly horrified when he laughed.

“Adelyn just likes you too much to let you go out with me looking like a problem. She’d probably concerned about your image, like Cayden was. Emma has only pure, boyfriend-minded intentions in mind.”

“Boyfriend-minded?”

I hadn’t thought Ben’s grin could get any wider, but I’d been wrong.

“I like that almost as much as them all being Team Ben. We need a couple name. Benuel? Samangan?”

“If you ever want me to consider Team Ben, you’ll never say that again. Like…” I paused to take out my wallet and put a five-dollar bill on the table in front of him. “Like, absolutely, no fucking way, in this fucking lifetime, will that ever fucking happen, ever fucking again.”

Ben pocketed the bill with gleaming eyes, mischievous smartass strong in his tone when he said, “You have a four-dollar tab started, so I think I’ll push my luck a little more by agreeing to that only because I don’t intend to do anything tonight to keep you from joining my team. I want to see every single aspect of Samuel Trammell, and what he brings to the game.”

The little ball I’d made out of my napkin when I was unconsciously fidgeting earlier, bounced harmlessly off his head. "Is flirting a default for you, ye of little modesty?”

"Hey I'm plenty modest, just not insincere. I’ll have you know; this is a bit out of my comfort zone after four years of self-imposed celibacy. I’m actually feeling a little bit shy.”

I laughed as Ben tried to convince me of that utter BS with big eyes, even as his lips curved into a semi pout to hide their twitching.

"You're shy? Please. You've been pursuing me for weeks."

And weakening my resolve a little more every day.

"It was more of a pilgrimage. I was hoping to find the Promised Land."

I sipped my coffee, the flavor profiles of strong Colombian roast, and that surprising warmth from the cinnamon, suddenly feeling less layered, and multi-dimensional then this entire conversation. The cup shook slightly when I set it carefully on the table. My nerves didn’t know how to play this game as well as Ben’s did.

"And… did you?"

"That depends on whether you’re driving back to Sofia’s tonight alone or following me back to my place.”

Ben’s voice was light, unassuming. The heated, hopeful look in his eyes, was pure need, and probably a few prayers rated well past PG-13.

“I walked here… So… you’d have to drive, regardless of direction.”

“You walked all the way from Sofia’s?”

“Yeah, Adelyn took Sofia’s car to drive her and Cayden to the show. I let Sofia drive my rental to meet A.J. He’d have happily picked her up and dropped her home, but I think she’s still a little gun shy, and wanted an easy out if necessary. She’d never need it, because A.J. would never force anything, but she’s still unsure about relationships because of Connor.”

“That seems to run in the family.”

I took a sip of my coffee, pointedly ignoring his mild tone. Instead, I studied the patrons in the room around us, focusing on the happiness clearly written across most faces. A few adults revealed the strain of having their kids off for the entire summer, but I imagined most of these people were normal, rule abiding, and well adjusted.

I glanced up when something slid across the table to my side. The penny gleamed bright copper in the fluorescent overhead lights. I smiled. Cute. Picking it up, I turned it over between my fingers, making it dance. It was an old trick I'd learned sometime in high school. I’d amused Adelyn with it when she was little, making it disappear behind my hand. When it reappeared behind her small ear, she'd loved it.

The penny flashed once more against my skin before I pocketed it. "It's amazing how much the old neighborhood has changed."

"A lot can happen in one year, let alone five. I’ve been here ten, and sometimes I feel like I blink, and everything’s gone through a wormhole.”

I eyed him sideways. “Wormhole huh? I forgot you’re a sci-fi nerd?”

“All the way. I love the action sequences, and advanced CGI effects of the modern stuff, but give me some B-rated sci-fi, and I’m a happy camper. The Twilight Zone is a classic, and one of my favorite movies is still, Killer Clowns from Outer Space. The aliens used their Klown Ray Guns to incase humans inside pink cotton candy to harvest for dinner later.”

I stared at him. Ben grinned, completely aware of, and uncaring about, his complete geek-out of truly epic proportions.

“We should watch it some time.”

“I’d rather drink your version of coffee,” I said indicating his fro-fou mess.

“Oh, come on. You had to have watched some of the same classics. Little Shop of Horrors? Attack of the Killer Tomatoes? Gremlins? Killer Condom?”

I laughed. “No way that last one is a real movie.”

“It absolutely is, circa 1996, because the Germans know how to make comedy out of the tragedy of a movie where a gay detective is hired to investigate a series of attacks where male guests in a seedy hotel have all had their penises bitten off by a carnivorous living condom.”

He grinned when I laughed.

Fucking hell… this man… Just when I thought he couldn't surprise me anymore...

“We definitely have to watch it and Attack of the Killer Tomatoes, because there’s a sequel to that one,” Ben added. “Were you just not into the horror thing as a kid?”

“We weren’t into movies in general because we didn’t have cable at home, and unless we snuck into the theater, we didn’t see anything in it, until I started spending more time at the Melones.” I let my eyes go unfocused for a moment before I said, “I liked Indiana Jones. The first one and the third. The second wasn’t my speed. Never liked that they released it as a prequel, even though it was the second movie. And his blonde bombshell irritated me.”

“Weren’t they all blonde?”

“No, Marion was a brunette. She was the original Indie girl. Smart, ballsy, could drink men under the table. I liked her spunk.”

“And I believe that, because I know you don’t like girls.” He laughed as he dodged another napkin ball. “Hmm so you like action movies. I know you like cars too. Are you into any of those Fast and Furious films? Or any of the newer, action-packed military action ones? Spies?”

“Aside from the original Bourne Identity which was actually pretty decent, and the 007 movies—Connery’s, though I liked Daniel Craig’s too—absolutely not.”

Ben laughed when I made a face.

“The special effects for most of the modern action movies usually make me cringe. It’s like the better Hollywood got at special effects, the more mediocre the storylines became. Directors just get so many details wrong. And yeah, I can suspend belief a little, and overlook stupid things that Hollywood has turned into a massive cultural misstep, but other things irk me too much for me to enjoy movies like that.”

“Uh huh…. Like what?” Ben sounded greatly amused at my expense.

“Like how in a firefight sequence, everyone and their mother, including law enforcement, and ‘trained military personnel,’ almost always end up shouting, “I’m empty! I need another clip!”

I wasn’t fooled by Ben’s smooth placement of his drink in front of his face. The high dollops of foamy whipped cream couldn’t hide the edges of his smile.

“I thought that meant they’re out of bullets.”

“That’s what Hollywood thinks it means.” Muscles in my neck snapped, crackled and popped my disapproval. “A magazine is what holds your bullets. In a gun fight, your firearm is only as good as the number of extra, pre-loaded magazines, you’re carrying with you. A clip is what holds cartridges together to make them easier to load into the magazine. The magazine itself feeds rounds into the firearm’s chamber to make all the pew pew pew happen. The whole ‘clip’ thing was started by vets after WWII, because of the way the M1 Garand works. For them it was slang. For most people who use it now, who aren’t military personnel just being lazy because we know the difference, it’s usually a combination of wanting to be cool, and just being wholly misinformed.” I grumbled. “Anything featuring any Special Forces unit is generally unwatchable for anyone whose been in combat, but the same people who swear that the phrases, “I couldn’t care less,’ and ‘I could care less,’ are the same, cream themselves over them. FYI, they’re not interchangeable!”

Ben was outright laughing now as I went off on my tear. I tapped my right index finger on the tabletop between us to illustrate my point, ignoring the little snorts that came through his laughter on occasion. It was cute, but I was on a mission of fucking enlightenment now.

“The first is the same as saying, ‘I absolutely don’t give a fuck. All out of fucks.’ The second means, ‘I shouldn’t give a fuck, but I still have some fucks to give’.” My hand swept through the air dismissively. “I don’t care if the fucking Merriam Webster Dictionary recently declared them interchangeable. Catering to people’s stupidity doesn’t make it right or make them smarter. If they don’t know better, how can they change and do things the correct way? It’s deliberate human sabotage.”

Ben held my gaze as he deliberately pulled my cup of coffee over in front of him. Apparently, this was his way of saying I needed to switch to decaf. “Two dollars and seventy-five cents left on that tab.”

He grinned when I grunted.

“I didn’t realize you felt so passionately about grammar.”

“I’m passionate about details. Like, why does Hollywood think a chick with arms as thin as toothpicks, can flawlessly shoot a gun out the window of a speeding car with one hand, much less a gun that I’d feel the kick on while holding it with two? Sure, it looks cool as hell, and I’m all for women empowerment, but you can’t aim like that, much less make headshots to the driver of the car so it flips over and starts a fiery fifty car pileup. Don’t get me started on shooting sideways, or all those long-distance TV sniper shots. Any self-respecting sniper feels his nuts shrivel up when that kind of bullshit hits TV and movies.”

I huffed out a breath, finally catching myself. “Sorry. For the profanity, not for the rest. I can forgive general ignorance, because some people just go with what they’re sold as truth. For years I thought JFK was an actual documentary, not just a, “based on a true story and events,” movie. I get that kind of confusion. My issue is when someone who’s misinformed, gets educated by someone with real experience, and still has the balls to argue the point. Wikipedia, and the Nazi’s modernly known as the Merriam Webster Dictionary, ignore the obvious. Soon they’re going to say the ocean and the sky are interchangeable, because the blue of one, reflects the other.”

Instead of saying anything, Ben lifted our joined hands to his mouth to kiss my knuckles. “Your indignation over the abysmal use of the English language, and the well-being of future generations is very hot. I’m digging the humanitarian vibe.”

I blinked, feeling my ears heat as I started to laugh. “All right, all right. You brought it up.”

“I most certainly did, and I’m absolutely delighted about it. That was unbelievably cute.”

When Ben’s teeth gently grazed my knuckles, gooseflesh broke out over the bare skin of my arms, and I forgot all about semantics. I knew he’d noticed when his thumb grazed over my skin.

"I love that I have that effect on you," he said with a smile. "Makes up for the days when I couldn't get anyone to look at me sideways in high school."

I laughed again. "You were that kid?"

He nodded. "Up until senior year when I put my height on and could buy my own clothing from local thrift stores so I wasn’t always in high waters.”

“That’s a far cry from how I imagine you rolled when you were working.”

“Oh baby, you have no idea, but I can assure you that I have photo evidence of both those points in my personal history.”

“Really? I want to see.”

“I’ll bet you do, young grasshopper. All in good time.” He smiled. “What about you? Were you the type who cut the toes off your mom's slippers to turn them into holsters, or did you make the decision to join the military later?"

"I was a gearhead, but I actually thought about teaching."

Ben's brows arched. "Really? A teacher of what?"

"Don't get too excited. I’m not talking doctorate level stuff. I wanted to teach auto shop.”

“You still can you know? Go back to school, take some classes. Even just teaching the kids at Maplewood like we talked about earlier, could be gratifying, and give you a sense of purpose. A fresh start.”

My lips curved in amusement. "Still trying to get into my head?"

"I need a hobby since you're making it so hard to get into your pants."

Chuckling, I retrieved my stolen mug, and took a sip. "I don't regret my life. I loved the military. Their beliefs made sense to me, and I don't mind taking orders when done right."

I knew Ben had picked up on the deliberate wording when his gaze focused on, and held mine, pupils, dilating slightly.

"You know I want to take it there, right?"

"You’ve already invested this much time… why not make it a hobby?"

"Don't bluff me, Sam," Ben warned. "I'm the type of man to go all in."

"So am I... And I’m making a choice to stay here in Florida with my family.” I paused, swallowing to find steadiness for my voice when I met Ben’s eyes. “To make things work with them… and to try… with you.”

Ben was silent for a moment, but before it lingered long enough to make me second guess myself, he leaned in for a brief, gentle kiss. He was the first to pull back. His free hand took my cup from my hands. Keeping a hold of my other hand, he tugged me out of the booth after he stood. "Let's go."

Ben's grip was gentle but firm, the word no, obviously not in the equation right now. "Is restraining me a thing with you?"

"Do you want it to be?"

I hadn't been going for a sexual vibe, but the moment the words were out there, I could feel the tension crackle around us. Full color visuals of Ben tying my hands down so he could do whatever he wanted to me, made my feet clumsy. I stumbled slightly as I got to my feet.

Ben's gaze swept over me slowly after he disposed of our trash. "Decide where I’m dropping you off yet?"

"Is it my choice?"

"Always."

I didn't realize he'd let go of my hand until he held it out to me, palm up, like I’d done to him earlier. My gaze slid over Ben's strong, square-tipped fingers. He was giving me the chance to cross new bridges if I wanted to.

And Oh. My God. I fucking wanted to.