Finding Home: Just Found Heaven, Bk 1.5 - 1. Chapter 1- Sam

Sam

"I got lost out there in this world... Looking for a brand-new wave to fall down... It's no surprise that things gotten worse... And I think God, never let me drown... But I didn't have to lie to myself for so long, I didn't have to let myself get so far gone... I didn't have to make the ones I love feel so alone... I didn't have to die to go to heaven, I just had to go home... All I had to do to save my own life was to look into your eyes..."

-- 3 Doors Down (Heaven lyrics)

SOME things in life are easy, but trying to properly knot my own tie on my wedding day wasn't one of them. Considering that I'd pulled this act off flawlessly at least a half dozen times after being honorably discharged from the Army and being both Addie and Emma's plus one to numerous functions, including Addie's junior prom a month ago, I should've been able to do this blindfolded. Maybe with one arm bound behind my back since I could bang out 60 push-ups per arm in less than two minutes that way. But it appeared that having mastery over an extremely difficult exercise move and creating a sleek line of formality with your neckwear, were two entirely different wheelhouses of expertise.

Sighing, I pulled the entire knot loose to start over again—for the third time. I could've asked for help from any of the people who'd been coming in and out throughout the morning to help make sure everything ran smoothly until Ben and I said I do. Max, Tara, A.J., Sofia and even Adelyn would've all been able to sort me out. But Tara was Ben's best woman, so I didn't want to hijack her. A.J. had been overseeing general wedding details as a way for him and Sofia to avoid one another as best they could after they’d hit pause on their relationship a few months ago. Sofia had her hands full avoiding A.J. and chasing Emma, who'd been happily spreading nuptial cheer throughout the hotel lobby earlier with some of the rose petals she'd secretly filched from her flower girl basket. Adelyn was probably trying to help wrangle her little sister. Max was the most logical choice, though he'd stepped out of the room a few minutes ago with a promise to come back after he took a call.

I hadn't told him to hurry back because while I didn't know whose call he'd had to take I was fine with him giving himself as many discrete timeouts as he needed today. Wardrobe issues aside, today was one of the happiest milestones of my life. For Max, not so much.

Two things could always be true at once. Truth number 1—Max was my best friend and the person I trusted most in the world, so having him at my side on the most important day of my life was a no-brainer. Truth number 2— I knew that Max was still in love with me and being best man meant he had a front row view to what we’d never be. Knowing all that was why I'd initially considered asking A.J. to be my best man instead. Considering the long history of my friendship with Max, the nearly two-decade long span of our on-and-off again romance, and the way things had ended between us last year, asking him had seemed cruel and most people would’ve probably agreed that it'd be awkward at the very least. However, not asking him would've been a slap in his face since he’d been publicly supportive of Ben and I and there was no one else in my life who was as dear to me as he was.

It was complicated all around, so I’d eventually gone the simplest route—just telling him that I'd proposed to Ben, and that Ben had said yes.

I could still see Max's expression clearly in my mind's eye. He'd been surprised but not shocked since after moving back to Florida after retiring from the military, he’d been privy to the progression of my relationship with Ben. So, despite whatever feelings he might still have for me, he’d tackled the huge elephant ass in the room without hesitation by congratulating us and asking when he got to plan the bachelor party because as one of his best man duties, it had to be epic.

Since then, he'd carried out every one of those duties with public gusto, but I knew he was working at it like a motherfucker. It'd never been easy for me to watch Max bounce from lover to lover, changing sexual partners as often as he changed his socks. Even now that I knew why he’d done it, it didn’t remove all of the sting, so I knew that as much as I tried to spare him from heartache without putting what Ben and I had second, we both knew as much about pain as we did about love…

***

(Flashback)

The rain had stopped by the time I'd walked the mile from my house to Max's—one of those brief summer storms that threatened hairstyles throughout the Sunshine State but then cleared into spotlessly blue skies. I kept my hair buzzed short for ease so I didn't have much to fuss with, but my T-shirt and jeans were molded to my body like a second skin, and my sodden sneakers squished as I walked up the three steps to his parent's front door, avoiding the top step out of habit. The wood always swelled in the summer and tripped the unsuspecting, no matter how many times his father nailed the board down.

My knuckles throbbed as I knocked on the door. I quickly wiped off the glaringly bright, bloody red smudges that they left behind on the white paint, then swiped my hand across the hem of my t-shirt. Between the dark gray color and how soaked the fabric was, all evidence of tonight's earlier events was easily erased. My bruised and potentially cracked ribs on my left side were harder to play off because my body screamed every time I moved too quickly, but I had ample experiences with broken ribs among other bones. After years of being my father’s personal punching bag, I knew how to discreetly favor the pained pieces to keep myself standing steadily enough not to rouse suspicions that’d get CPS involved for the hundredth time.

When the door opened to reveal Max's dad, I had to remind myself why that was so important.

Max's father was a highly decorated Air Force Colonel and one of the sharpest men I'd ever met. He'd seen through all the excuses my family made for the injuries my mother, brother and I'd racked up over the years, but though you could bring the proverbial horse to water, you couldn't force it to drink any more than you could get a dysfunctional, codependent family to turn on one another.

"Sam," he said calmly, though there was a hint of obvious curiosity in his eyes as to why I'd ended up on his doorstep in this kind of weather. "Everything okay?"

"Yes sir," I responded, my voice easily casual from years of practice. "I just got caught in the rain on my way over. Didn't pay attention to today's weather forecast. Is Max here?"

"He's up in his room."

The Colonel's gaze swept over me slowly with that quiet, keen assessment that used to make me squirm before I'd learned how to lie effectively to the people who I considered my family even more than the ones I'd been born to. The deceit always killed me but illogical, ill-placed loyalty still made me protect the people I shared genetics with.

"Are you sure everything's okay son?"

"Yes sir," I said again. "Everything's okay. Just came by to shoot the crap with Max. If it's a bad time, I can come back later."

Max's father had been telling me for years that I could call him either by his first or last name interchangeably if I wanted to but I'd never taken him up on the offer. Not just because I knew that it would hurt Max who’d been forced to address his father as ‘Sir’ or ‘Colonel’ practically from the womb—a fact that made him wisecrack that I was the son his father actually wanted—but also because if I was forced to lie to a man who was the closest thing I had to a real father, the least I could do was show him the respect he'd earned after years of devoted service to his country, and kindness toward me.

After another searching look, he shook his head. "You know you're always welcome here. After all these years we should just get you your own key. Take the extra one hanging by the door when you leave today. I'll have another one made tomorrow."

"Thank you, sir."

Max's dad nodded, then called up the stairs for Max to come down before he walked into the next room. It was obvious that the Colonel didn't believe me, but I knew that he wouldn't push because he always wanted to keep the door open in the unlikely event, I ever decided to walk through it.

Instead of going upstairs to Max's room, I stayed in the foyer. Even though Max's bedroom door locked, I always felt a little uneasy talking to him about days like this within the four walls of his family's home because it was the most normal, happy place in my life. I never wanted to pollute it with ugly secrets.

Max came down within a few minutes and the look he gave me was as knowing as his father's had been. Thankfully he was able to morph it into that easy going smile that hid my secrets as often as they did his own. He called that honed skill his ‘southern charm’. I called it bullshit but it was still a talent that I benefited from on days like this.

"Didn't listen to the weather forecast again today, did you?" His tone was teasing and casual, but I saw the silent, concerned question in his eyes before he tilted his head toward the still open front door.

I nodded slightly and felt Max's body tense in silent anger when I winced beneath the arm, he threw over my shoulders. We were always easily affectionate with one another, but I knew that he'd hugged me now as a discreet way of checking out how badly I was injured because he could always read me like a favorite book. He didn't say anything about it though until we got outside and walked around the back of the house where he always kept a ladder pressed up against the siding. We liked sitting up there with sodas on warm nights to shoot the shit and his parents didn’t mind.

"Can you manage?"

"Yeah, but you go up first because I'm going to be slow today."

The anger that had been discreet in the house flared up hot in Max's face for a moment before he climbed up the ladder quickly, waiting for me at the top so that he could grab my hand and help me settle into our usual spots where most of our conversations took place when they were going to be more than just shooting casual teenage shit.

He waited until I was situated before he glanced over at me. "How bad is it?"

I shrugged as much as I could through the pain. I never bothered hiding the truth from Max. "Probably have a few cracked ribs. Connor got it worse."

"Because he started it?"

It was a rhetorical question. "Dad's been in a worse mood than usual. He's gambling even more than he's boozing and he flipped out when Connor told him that Sofia's pregnant. He said he wasn't going to support another mouth to feed. Not that he's ever really supported us anyway."

Max's eyes immediately widened. I hadn't gotten a chance to share that particular bit of information with him before today because I'd only found out about Sofia's pregnancy two days ago and I'd been trying to play interference between Connor and our father since then. Things had just escalated into a full-out war this afternoon and after Connor had taken off to nurse his wounds and kick cans, I’d come to the safest spot I knew of.

"Jesus. Do her parents know?"

I nodded. "Connor and Sofia told them first. They're not thrilled about it but they're trying to be as supportive as they can even though you know they've never liked Connor."

"That's the understatement of the century," Max said with a snort. "But who can blame them? Connor's an irresponsible shithead. Baby-free-bonin’ is called, ‘wear-a-fuckin’ condom, stupid.’"

He looked disgusted but I knew it was at Connor's expense not Sofia's, even though it took two to make a mistake like this. We just both had a soft, brotherly spot for Connor's girlfriend.

"What are they gonna do?"

"You know how religious Sofia's parents are. They won't let her have an abortion and even if she was old enough to do it without their permission, she'd never go against their wishes."

"What's Connor say about it?"

I hesitated. My instinctive response was always to protect my twin brother but I also never lied to Max. "He said he'll be a shitty father."

"Well for once he and I agree on somethin’."

"Maybe things will change. Sofia's parents are good, stable people. She's living with them and raising the baby there."

"And Connor's movin’ in too? Bullshit. You're goin’ to grow mold waitin’ for those fuckin’ pigs with wings to pop out of the sky Sam."

"Max I know Connor fucks up a lot but he's not always a dick. He said he'll marry Sofia when they're both eighteen for the baby's sake."

"Poor baby and poor Sofia because you're right. He's not always a dick. He's about 60/40. The 40 is when he's an asshole."

"Look, if he doesn't move in with Sofia's parents it's probably because he doesn't want to leave me alone with dad."

"Bullshit," Max repeated. "Half the time he jumps in to protect you is after you've already gotten the shit beaten out of you for protectin’ him because he decided to throw an entire book of matches onto your dad's toxic, kerosene-soaked soul."

I scrubbed one hand across my face, feeling the stress knotted through the tendons that pulled taught in my jaw. It wasn't the first or even the fiftieth time that we'd had similar conversations, but I still didn't have the exact formula down for diffusing Max's wrath when he felt he had to come to my defense. I knew he was right about Connor most of the time, but Connor was still my brother, and I was loyal even when I knew it was stupid.

"We're not sixteen yet Max. There's no way that dad's going to let us emancipate ourselves," I said, hoping logic would work this time even though it was as much of a bullshit excuse as any of my usual ones and we both knew it. "We're his meal tickets so long as we keep bringing in the welfare checks."

"So, move in with us. The Colonel and mom know your old man is a piece of shit and they’ve about takin’ you in before. They love you Sam and would protect you if you'd let them. You know the Colonel's been lookin’ for a reason to hand that son-of-a-bitch's ass even before your mom died."

"They wouldn't take Connor."

Max sighed. "They wouldn't want to because he's a pain in the ass and yeah, they'd kick him out in a heartbeat if he kept fuckin’ up with all the fightin’ and his usual brand of general bullshit while he was stayin’ under this roof. But they'd try for your sake if it would get you out of that hell hole, especially my mama. They want what's best for you because they love you. We all do."

His tone was unhesitatingly honest and I felt my eyes close for a moment. I knew he meant it. The problem was that he didn't mean it in the way I wanted him to.

Max and I’d been best friends since we were fourteen. Never once during that time had I doubted that he'd always have my back. But ever since I'd realized a few months ago that I wanted to give him my heart, accepting the brotherly devotion he freely gave me had become a trial. Especially during times like these when I all I wanted was for the comforting arm he put around my shoulder to pull me in closer to hold me like a lover, not just a friend. I wanted Max to kiss away all my pain and the broken feelings that I almost drowned in whenever I got stuck in my head. But I couldn't say any of that to Max because I knew he slept around and that he enjoyed the unattached freedom of being young, hot, and in ridiculous demand among the masses of horny high schoolers in our classes.

He switched interchangeably between teams with a cheerful hedonism while my own beliefs about love were so jaded I barely dated. I didn't want to pile my emotional baggage on him. We were too young for that kind of shit.

When Max let go of me, I used the breath I took to inhale deeply from the lit cigarette he handed me. I swallowed the smoke down, exhaling slowly over my head only when the burn in my chest became too much to trap inside.

"I think Connor's afraid." I cut Max off with a wave of my cigarette before his temper could flare up again. "He doesn't know how to cope with becoming a parent. Our dad’s just a sperm donor and though I know mom did the best she could to love and protect Connor and me, neither of us understands why she didn't leave him before she got so sick from the cancer that he had to be completely dependent on him."

I exhaled another smoke ring and tapped out the ash from the tip on the edge of the roof. "Connor resents her for it. Says she was weak and that it's her fault we're as fucked up as we are."

I'd punched Connor in the mouth for that comment but kept it to myself because Max was already fired up.

"Sam, I don't know why your mom couldn't leave your dad, but I know it isn't because she wanted to hurt you or Connor. Granted, my mama would put arsenic in the Colonel's sweet tea if he ever laid hands on her, but love can be stupid and not make any damn sense except to the two people involved in the relationship. Maybe a part of your mom still loved your dad, as twisted and broken as that love was. But her mistakes don't have to impact you and Connor for the rest of your lives. Connor's just usin’ that as a crutch to justify his own inability to cope. You've lived through the same experiences he has but unlike him, you do give a damn about people. You love Connor's fuckin’ stupid ass, you love Sofia, you love my family, and you love me."

Max paused and his gaze swept over me slowly. For a moment I wondered if he knew just how true that sentence was by the way his expression softened but then he shrugged. "Even if Connor doesn't want to be there for Sofia and the baby, you know you can be right?"

I took another drag from my cigarette to avoid answering for a few seconds, staring up at the clear blue sky instead of at him until I finally trusted my voice to be steady enough to respond.

"I want to be Max, I said quietly. "I want to believe that we can be different than our parents and start over fresh with my niece or nephew, whatever it turns out to be. When we were kids before things got so bad that she just shut off, Mom used to say we could have anything we wanted in life and..."

"And you want a real family," Max said, finishing the sentence when I hesitated. "So do it Sam. Come live with us and be our family. It’s not like you aren’t already. You can still be there for Sofia and the baby. I'll even try to tolerate Connor in our spectacularly dysfunctional new family unit, as the coolest pseudo-uncle that kid will ever have. It’ll be lick and stick tattoos all the way."

He grinned, and I felt my own lips curve slightly upward in response.

"Maybe..."

"Maybe is good enough for now. But I'm goin’ to beat the damn horse and reiterate that Connor's damage isn't yours. The people in your life who really care about you, we know you’re good, loyal and a guy who's worth givin’ a damn about."

Max smiled and my pulse kicked up when he snuffed out his own cigarette. He tossed it over the edge of the roof before he shifted smoothly toward me. My eyes widened and my breath hitched when Max dragged the knuckles of his left hand slowly across my cheek with a level of tenderness, he'd never demonstrated toward me in such an intimate way before. When he leaned toward me, I froze, too surprised to process what was happening between us in this sudden unexpected shift in our dynamic.

I'd fantasized about kissing Max for months, but we'd never crossed the line of affection appropriate for any epic bromance.

Until now.

I felt the warmth of Max's smoke-touched breath ghost across my ear as he murmured, "I can't give you everything’ you deserve Sam. Even though the Colonel and mom have always raised me to believe in the worth of singular love and monogamy, I don't think I'm built that way. It just doesn't stick for me. What I do know, is that you're my best friend and I give a damn. Enough to want to give you as much of myself as I'm capable of, even though I know it's not nearly enough." Max paused and gently dragged the pad of his thumb across the curve of my lower lip. "But it's your call."

"We're still fifteen, Max. Isn't being horny and free a requirement?" I murmured, feeling Max's breath puff warmly over my mouth when he chuckled.

"True."

"We wouldn't be exclusive," I said. It wasn’t a question because I already knew the answer.

"No, but I'll still be the guy who'll always have your back. If that's enough, I'm here."

I wanted to pull away. Regardless of our age, we both knew it wasn't enough, but I loved him, and he was willing to love me back the best way he could. So instead of answering him with words, I closed the gap between us.

Max let me initiate the first pass of my mouth across his. He wasn't the first guy I'd kissed, and I certainly wasn't his first, but when the tip of his tongue lightly traced the seam of my lips before his thumb pressed gently at the corners of my mouth to encourage me to open for him, I did.

The kiss was tender, hot and everything I’d fantasized about for the last few months before I’d jacked off to the impossibility of us ever being together. But now, we could be even if it wasn’t everything I wanted.

I pulled back first, my lips curving into a crooked smile that matched his. “It’s enough.”

“Good. And you stayin’ with us means you can play interference between me and the Colonel. He’s been havin’ shit fits lately because I decided I’m not enlistin’ like he did when I turn eighteen. I want to become a doctor which I’ll do through the military track. But you know that’s not what he wants-not butch enough. Fortunately, you bein’ built like a brick shithouse means he gets the son he always wanted, and I get a brother I can play doctor with—two taboos crossed off at once. It’ll be awesome.”

Max waggled his brows, and I laughed, the sound muffled into his mouth when he kissed me again, harder and deeper this time, the wetness of his tongue way too skilled for a fifteen-year-old as he explored every inch of my mouth with one hand curled around the back of my neck and his thumb rubbed against the side of my throat.

I didn’t allow myself to linger on how he’d gotten so experienced at this. It wasn’t a happily ever after moment, but happy for now was good enough.

***

Looking back now it was easy to see how that shouldn’t have been enough for either of us, especially after we became real adults. Ben on the other hand, had never given me the option of, 'happy for now.' He'd always played for keeps despite all our ups and down before I’d gotten my head out of my ass and now, here we were.

The edges of my undone tie brushed across my chest as I moved away from the mirror and sat on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped beneath my weight, but it still provided a stable surface as I looked down at my bare ring finger. I rubbed my thumb across it lightly. I loved Ben with every fiber of my being even though it’d been a challenge to let go of years of believing that I didn't deserve to have happiness, a loving family and a man who I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. The interpersonal relationship issues I’d struggled with would probably always be a challenge. While you could move forward in life when you tried hard enough, the past was always there to take a stab at drawing you down anytime you glanced backward. I was going to have to invest in one of those cone shaped things snappy, self-destructive dogs wore to occasionally protect themselves from their own teeth.

Before meeting Ben, I hadn't really believed in God past the Sunday school basics I'd learned as a kid, but there'd been times since we'd gotten together that God seemed to have taken a renewed interest in my life. Or maybe I'd just finally started listening. Apparently, now was one of those times He thought I needed a reminder of what I had to fight for.

And who.

My lips curved into a smile as my phone's screen lit up with a text message from Ben. A heart, a wedding ring, and a thumbs up emoji were followed by, "I can't wait..." and a red rose emoji.

Smartass.

But God, I loved him for it...

***

(Flashback)

I felt nauseous and it wasn’t because of the paella that I’d surprised Ben with when he’d come home from work. He'd taught me to make it a few months ago because it was his favorite dish and after some trial and error, I’d finally gotten enough mastery over it that I hadn’t burnt it tonight. It’d been as delicious as the sangria I’d also made from scratch and we’d eaten and drank till we were full and happy. Our night overall, had been romantic and easy like most of our past few months together had been. But tonight, I’d planned a choice that would change everything depending on his answer, hence the nausea. Though to be fair, if there was any man out there who hadn’t been nervous when he proposed, I’d buy him a drink even as I called bullshit.

I inhaled deeply before draining my glass of sangria. Ben quirked a curious brow at me with an amused smile when I laid my hand over his. He immediately curled his own fingers around mine like he always did whenever I initiated affection now that it was becoming second nature to me after almost a year together. I didn’t drink much anymore so this was only my second glass and I’d been nursing it for the better part of an hour.

“You okay over there?”

Ben chuckled when he squeezed my hand, then brought it to his lips so he could brush a light kiss across my knuckles. Immediately, I thought of the first time we'd slept together—how Ben had opened his arms to let me rest my head against his chest as we came down from the high of the most amazing sex of my life. How he'd held me close, murmuring my name when he'd laced our fingers together as our breathing slowed. How my stupid heart had given up its passport as soon as he'd kissed my fingers just like he was doing right now.

I exhaled slowly, the ring box suddenly feeling like a fiery brand against my ass in the pocket of my jeans. One in the shape of Ben’s name.

Ben’s brow arched higher eyebrow when I reached for my water glass. I needed a clear head for this.

"Do you like the flowers?"

The confusion Ben's eyes was obvious. He was probably wondering if I was drunk. Thankfully, he still followed my gaze to the bouquet of a dozen roses that I'd given him earlier in the evening when he'd come home.

Ben loved it when I gave him flowers, especially roses because they reminded him of how I'd first admitted that I loved him. I'd given him flowers several times since then, simply because I loved how his face lit up at such a simple gesture that wasn't that difficult for even my own romantically stupid ass to pull off. The florist always did the real work, telling me what each flower meant before she put it into a bouquet. I'd never told Ben about any of that before, but tonight I wasn't holding anything back.

"Did you know that the color of roses symbolizes different things?"

Ben shook his head though his warm smile was immediate, obviously amused about the sudden history lesson.

"I just assumed you were feeling festive," he teased as his gaze swept over the multicolored bouquet before returning to meet mine. He winked and I chuckled.

I usually only gave him red roses because I knew they were his favorite due to a combination of his sensual, romantic personality, and the ridiculous but adorable obsession he had with the ‘The Bachelor,’ where red roses had in his words, represented true love triumphant.

There were three red roses and two white, both for their meaning and because the florist had said that in multicolored bouquets, flowers should always be arranged in oddly numbered groups for aesthetic purposes. I'd been less concerned about aesthetics then I was about what I wanted to say with the flowers, but I'd conceded to that advice since there were only seven other colors that I'd wanted to use that spanned the spectrum of a rainbow.

"You know I'm not great with words, so I figured these would help with everything I want to say to you tonight. Granted, I wrote it all down first, then spent a week memorizing everything so I wouldn't have to break out my index cards and destroy all suave street cred."

Ben arched an eyebrow but his grin remained as I withdrew one of the red roses from the vase and cleared my throat slightly.

"Ok... so red is obvious— love and passion—what I feel every time you kiss me, especially right before you get me on my back with my wrists pinned down by your strong hands, and you're kissing me like oxygen isn't something we have to worry about."

I grinned when Ben's breath hitched in surprise, obviously not expecting that. I wasn't usually a huge talker in or out of bed, but this was the most massive turning point in my life to this point.

"Whether you're fucking me so hard that I can't think of anything but how good your cock feels pounding into me while your lips and tongue light up every nerve ending in my body, or you're making love to me so slow and easy that your body tells me how tender your heart is without any words, when you and I come together, it's always with both love and passion."

I laid the red rose down on the table in front of Ben and reached for the pink one. When our eyes met, there was a hint of arousal in his but also a gentle demand to keep going now that I had him hooked. I submitted to him easily like I always did because we still had a long way to go.

"Pink means romance, gentleness, admiration and happiness— everything I feel when you leave me a mini-Kit-Kat bar wrapped in a neon colored Post-it with a stupidly romantic quote written on it because you know they're my favorite." I smiled shyly. "So damn hokey, but they make me ridiculously happy because of your casual thoughtfulness as much as the sugar rush. Pink, because I admire your dedication to always putting us first even if you have to rearrange your schedule to squeeze in a quick coffee break with me at the auto shop between writing your sermons, and your other important responsibilities."

I laid the pink rose beside the red, then picked up the yellow one. "Amber, the florist, said yellow symbolizes friendship. Usually platonic friendship."

"You're on a first name basis with your florist?"

Ben's teasing smile was at my expense, but I could hear the unmistakable delight lacing through his words and my own smile came easier now, steadying my nerves.

"She's never let me down with helping me figure out what I want to say through flowers when the words don't come easy."

"Oh? And what's yellow say other than you're an extremely cute contradiction for symbolizing platonic relationships after you just finished telling me how much you love feeling me claim every inch of you from heart to butt?"

My grin deepened when Ben laid his hand over mine again, kicking up my pulse with just a simple stroke of his thumb against the sensitive webbing between my thumb and forefinger.

"I said that's what Amber told me yellow means. To me it represents you being my best friend and partner, as well as all the times you've held my hand just like you are right now, steadying me whenever my hardest memories try to sneak in. Your warm touch always kicks them to the curb. It also reminds me of the time you secretly changed your ring tone in my cell so when you called while I was at the bar with the guys from work, it played the Toy Story version of, 'You've Got a Friend in Me." I snorted. "We're talking endless amounts of shit talk at my expense for MONTHS."

Ignoring Ben's chuckle, I handed the rose to him so he could he set it down on the table himself.

"I secretly think you liked that one even more than when Boyz II Men's, ‘I'll Make Love to You’ went off while you were standing in for Sofia at Emma's Daisy Scout meeting," he said with a self-satisfied smirk.

"I think that's what got me promoted to permanent stand-in for those meetings," I said with another snort.

Ben grinned. “Is it my fault that you look cute in that Daisy Scout t-shirt, or that the other troop leaders are so open-minded?"

"If you want me to keep going, shut it."

Ben's dimples flickered deeply when he obediently pretended to zip and lock his lips before sliding the 'key,' into his pocket.

"Peach," I said as I held up the next flower. "Appreciation, sincerity and gratitude." I felt my expression soften and hoped he could see the emotion in my eyes that I used to keep bottled up after years of learning bad communication habits from my abusive father.

"I know I've messed up a lot, Ben, but never doubt my sincerity when I say how grateful I am that you let me be a part of your world."

"I guess Emma's been making you watch The Little Mermaid again."

Ben winked when I eyed him, his expression so warm and satisfied that it made all this hokiness outside of my comfort zone completely worth it.

"Orange," I continued, taking that rose out of the vase after I put down the peach one. "Fascination, passion, enthusiasm, attraction, and desire. Like the desire I feel for you which sometimes terrifies me because it's grown like gangbusters since we met and has become so much more than just the physical fascination, I have with the unconsciously sexy way you move. I fell for the zest you have for life, and that damn eternal enthusiasm you approach every new adventure in your life with."

"You have no idea how much I want to red rose you right now," Ben murmured as his gaze raked over me in an almost tangible caress that made my skin tingle and not just from nerves this time.

"Hold that thought in reserve for the next time I annoy you by leaving my socks on the bedroom floor."

"In front of the hamper, Sam. Right in front of the hamper."

"I have a great three-point shot from the door after I take off my sneakers. I don't want to get our bedroom rug dirty. It’s not my fault the lid to the hamper is always closed."

"You always close the toilet lid after using it, then flip it up again when needed. Same concept."

My grin deepened when Ben snorted, though I couldn't hide my shiver when he slid his bare toes up against the inside of my calf, pushing up the hem of my jeans.

Ben noticed immediately like he always did, and the desire in his lazy smile spoke as much to my soul as it did to my dick.

"Just so we're clear, I plan to commit every single word of this to memory. I don't know what magic romance beans you ate tonight but get me an entire jar, and I'll mix them in with the coffee beans every morning for the rest of our lives. For once I'll approve of you drinking yours black as death if it hides any aftertaste that might stop the medicine from going down."

I smirked. "Not my fault you like more than a spoonful—or ten—of sugar in yours to drink it down in the most delightful way."

We grinned at each other like two fools who'd obviously been spending too much time around Emma and the Disney Channel. But, beneath the warmth, I felt some of my nerves creeping back when my brain registered that he'd said the rest of our lives.

God Ben, I hope you meant that.

"Burgundy," I said, pausing as he reached for the rose himself this time. "It means an even deeper passion than red does."

"Deeper than when I get inside of you when you’re straddling my hips and riding me like you weren't born for anything else? More intense then when you break screaming, and paint my skin with your spunk?"

Sweet fucking hell...

I cleared my throat when Ben ignored my attempt at keeping a straight face and just grinned at me like a damn Cheshire cat. His sensual accent made the carnal obscenity even hotter and reminded me of what he always said—that beneath the collar he was still just a man. A man who apparently had a very definite thing for me.

"It also means unconscious beauty," I said, trying not to smile back and get off track. "Which is what you are when you're not actively using your pheromones to try and turn my attempt at romance into me begging you to fuck me on the damn floor."

"Sorry."

His smile said he wasn't a damn bit sorry.

"Purple," I said after I'd cleared my throat twice, trying to ignore how Ben was stroking the burgundy petals slowly across his lips, then down along the strong column of his neck to hover over his throat-- the spot on his body that I most loved to kiss because from there I could feel every physical reaction he had to my touch vibrating through his vocal cords beneath his skin.

"Not a natural color," I continued, "but, Amber said they symbolize enchantment and the mystical things that don't really make sense like love at first sight. Something which I've always thought was fluffy bullshit until we met, and I had to start increasing the mileage of my morning runs from 10 miles a day to 15 to build up enough stamina to keep running away from my desire to surrender to said fluffy bullshit."

"I'm so incredibly turned on by how well you take notes."

My lips twitched because beneath the teasing, I could hear Ben's sincerity seeping through. "Focus. I'm almost done."

I pointed the purple rose at Ben. He took it though he set it down instead of the burgundy one which he stroked across his lower lip again.

"Green roses are dyed to symbolize spirituality, hope and balance."

I exhaled slowly and brushed the petals of the green rose against my skin like Ben had. His gaze was hawk-like as it tracked my movements when I brushed across my temples, then my own chest with the flower.

"My mind and body feel balanced because I can finally open up enough now to tell you without fear, that I'm in love you. I love you Ben and I need you because you're my safe haven— a place where I can find the peace, I never thought I'd feel with someone else."

"Oh Sam..." Ben's expression morphed past its usual gentleness into a realm of new, drowning deep emotion I'd never seen before, like he was the one being humbled instead of me.

We'd said I love you so many times over the last year and meant it every single time, but looking into Ben's eyes, I knew I wasn't the only one who felt that those three words had never carried as much weight as they did right now.

"Last one," Ben said, quietly offering me the white rose.

I shook my head, keeping my gaze locked on his as I somehow managed to steady my suddenly shaking limbs long enough to slide out of my chair and get on both my knees in front of him. One knee was traditional, but I didn't trust my stability right now. Ben was my heart and soul's balance, but anxious anticipation threatened mine.

"White apparently means a lot of different things, from spirituality to innocence and reverence but the three other meanings that resonated most with me were new beginnings, purity, and soul deep love..."

My throat constricted I felt that sting of heat behind my eyes again but kept the tears back because I didn't want my vision to blur and keep me from seeing the widening of Ben's eyes when I reached into the pocket of my jeans to pull out the simple black velvet box that’d been burning a hole in my thoughts for the past month since I'd picked up the ring I'd had custom designed for Ben.

His lips parted slightly when I opened the box so he could see the ring. Two rows of brushed silver ran parallel in the middle of the tungsten band. I'd almost gone with white gold, but the jeweler had told me that tungsten was a hard, almost bulletproof material, and Ben's silly sense of romance had apparently rubbed off on me after hours of being forced to watch Spanish soap operas. The idea that the ring was pretty permanent because it couldn't be resized due to the nature of the metal, had appealed to me. Ben probably wouldn't get the context, but he couldn't miss the tiny print of the inscription engraved on the inside of the band when I held the ring out to him. An inscription I knew would mean more to him than it might to most people because he'd fought so damn hard to get me to this point where I could finally believe the words myself.

JFH.

"Just found heaven," I murmured quietly, clarifying the meaning of the letters.

It was Ben's eyes that shimmered with unshed tears now, but his smile was enough of an answer that although I knew I didn't have to ask the actual question, I'd never wanted to do anything more.

“Even though we've already made a life together, I want a true new beginning with you. I've known so many dark times in my life Ben but you light up the shadows of a love that isn't complicated, broken or codependent. It's the purest, most humbling emotion I've ever felt from, and for anyone. You’re so ingrained in my soul that I know I’ll never be able to remove you from it without tearing my own heart out. So," I murmured, "will you marry me?"

Ben's smile was like the first break of sunrise but instead of answering, he laid the white rose down on the table. He kept hold of the ring as he knelt down in front of me, mirroring my position on the hardwood floor.

When his hand brushed along the side of my face, I leaned into the touch immediately like I had earlier and when our lips touched, all the anxiety about taking this next step vanished just like my panic attacks lessened the moment he brought my focus back to him and let the rest of the world fade away until I could handle it again.

My lips beneath the kiss that was gentle but not unsure or timid. Ben kissed me the way he always had— like the only man who'd ever had the right even before we got here. His would be the only lips I’d ever feel from this moment onward.

Ben's fingers brushed my jaw again as he pulled back. He grinned as he handed me the ring so I could slide it onto his left hand. It fit perfectly, gleaming against his caramel skin.

"Yes."

It was only one word but it was all I needed. Ben's grin was just a bonus. I laughed when he kissed me again, his hands shoving me back so I toppled onto the floor on my back. My hands slid to his hips when he straddled me, his eyes glowing just as brightly as the ring with loving mischief as he said, "Now back to what I was saying about some red rosing..."

***

I blinked out of my reverie when I heard the alarm on my phone beep. I'd set the timer to go off an hour before the wedding started so I could have enough time to get myself ready to start this new chapter of my life. I'd asked Ben if he'd wanted to pick out a band for me together, but he'd shut me down with an empathic, "Hell no." Using that kind of language—something he rarely did—was a display of impulsive emotion, so I'd just grinned and mollified him by agreeing that he could choose our wedding bands for the actual ceremony since he wanted them to match. My assumption had been that he'd put his engagement ring away in a drawer, or maybe on a chain around his neck close to his heart but out of the way. Instead, he'd just worn it for the entire duration of our engagement until our rehearsal dinner last night, when he’d moved it to his right ring finger so he could leave his left bare just like mine currently was until the ceremony.

It was romantic and so very Ben that Sofia, Tara and even A.J. had teased him endlessly about it. He’d just rolled with the good-natured torment, taking almost as much amusement as they did in the fact that I got more embarrassed by the ribbing than he did.

My lips twitched as I looked into the mirror over the dresser to meet my own eyes. A little over a year ago, I'd stood just like this in front of the bathroom mirror in Sofia's guest room the first night that I'd spent in her home when I'd come back to Florida for Connor's funeral. I'd looked at my reflection that night and hadn't recognized myself as the man I'd tried to be for years before I'd stopped fighting back against the world and just let it wreck me as I did my job because that was all I’d really had back then. That man had been tagged up like a commemorative wall of graffiti from numerous, covert military operations, and decades-worth of emotional baggage even before that.

In the hotel mirror, the basic structure of my face was still the same, but my blue eyes were clear and focused without any booze in my system to muddy them, and the curve of my jaw was hard due purely to genetics now, not because it was clenched with blank stoicism. There were a few new wrinkles at the corners of my eyes when I smiled—which happened easily these days—and they'd replaced the deep bags and harsh circles that’d once been permanent squatters. The laugh lines bracketing my lips were subtle signs of age I could accept because they meant I'd managed to keep my shit together and survived past those long nights when I'd considered eating my gun because my past had felt like an unescapable weight.

Thankfully those feelings had faded months ago, even though my PTSD would never really be gone. When it did flare up though, all I had to do was go to Ben and he could talk me down with an ease no one else had ever been able to manage, not even Max.

That thought made me glance over at my best friend who'd come back into the room without me noticing, which meant I'd really checked out earlier while remembering the proposal—that, and the fact that Max could be ridiculously stealthy when he wanted to, partly from learning how to climb in and out of the bedroom windows of the girls and guys he'd slept with in high school.

Max's attention was focused on his cell phone, long surgeon’s fingers flying over the keys as he responded to what was probably a text from someone in my family because I knew that they'd started a group text earlier that day to keep in contact with each other, and on schedule with the wedding plans. I felt my expression soften in familiar affection as I watched Max muttering to himself while he read a response after the incoming text chimed. This time his muttering sounded like an exasperated, "bossy she-beast."

I grinned because it had to be Tara he was talking to. Over the past year, they'd become each other's number ones, close enough that Max had rented her basement apartment. He spent so much time over there after he’d retired to Florida, that sharing living expenses as much as gossip and adventures made sense. They loved each other as platonically as yellow roses but with the devoted loyalty of the more passionate colors. As they put it, they were each other's 'best bitches' and snipped at each with affectionate exasperation like an old married couple.

While Max was distracted, I let my gaze sweep over him. He was wearing the same slim cut gray suit Ben, and I were, but Emma had given him a pale blue pocket square to match the snowflake tie she'd picked out for all of us to go with the winter theme she'd also chosen. Ben and I hadn't had any say in those kinds of details because neither of us cared as much as the women in my family did about the party aspects. It made Emma happy to orchestrate her personal, big gay Barbie doll wedding, and as long as the end result of the day was being able to call Ben my husband, she, Sofia and Adelyn had carte blanche as far as I was concerned.

My visual inspection paused when I saw the rose in Max's boutonniere. Unlike the white ones that’d been ordered for mine and Ben's, his was a deep shade of blue that popped against the silvery gray fabric of his suit. I knew that Emma couldn't possibly know the meaning of that color rose. She'd probably been drawn to it for the theme, but my heart still felt a sympathetic pull when Max looked up and our eyes met.

Blue roses weren't found in nature, so the color symbolized the unattainable, mysterious and impossible.

I'd been the one to choose impossibility for us because I'd chosen a life with Ben but that had apparently made Max temporarily unattainable to everyone else except for the flash in the pan flings Tara said he'd been indulging in lately like his groin was on fire. Granted, Max had been casual about sex since we were teenagers. He was adventurous and passionate, and preferred to live every experience in his life to its fullest capacity without much hesitation. He'd always told me about his cheerful philandering even when he and I were on and off again. But ever since Ben and I’d gotten engaged, Max had stopped telling me about his sexual hijinks. I hadn't known about any of his recent hookups until Tara had spilled the beans one night over pizza because she was worried about him.

Max had never been monogamous with anyone except me for a brief period, but he'd also never been a heavy drinker. Yet according to Tara, boozing and banging had become his new favorite past times when he wasn't working at the hospital or spending time with us and my family. Casual sex with occasional feelings seemed to have become meaningless throwaway escapades.

I knew Max was always careful because he was a doctor and understood the health risks of intense fooling around without taking appropriate precautions. but I still worried about him. I knew what was motivating the sexcapades. There was just nothing I could do about it. Not anymore.

Max quirked a brow at me in obvious curiosity, probably ready to bust out a penny for my thoughts but I just shook my head as I smiled in deflection.

"Talking to Tara?"

He snorted. "More like gettin’ bossed around like her personal sexy bitch. She's been schoolin’ me on best man protocol all day even though I think I've done pretty well so far. You're here in one piece, ready to marry the hottest priest I know, and your bachelor party was on point despite the deliberate, and somewhat tragic absence of any strippers."

I grinned. "Ben would've killed you."

"Probably, and between his strong ties to the local police department and his connection to the angels on high, he'd get away with it. It's still tragic."

My grin matched Max's because I knew he'd never really been serious about hiring strippers. It wasn't my thing, never had been.

"You're doing great. There isn't anybody else that I'd want standing up there beside me today.”

“I know and A.J.’s soooo jealous.”

I snorted. “A.J. is happy to stay low key. He and Sofia are so awkward around each other right now it’s making me twitch.”

“Yeah, I noticed that too. Why the hell did they break up anyway? Both of them are communicating less than mimes.”

“I don’t know. I’d say it was because it was just a fling but I don’t really believe that. I think it’s more about location and deciding who’s willing to make the big change and move. I know Sofia wants to stay in Florida because we’re here but A.J’s entire family is in Alabama. They probably just couldn’t find middle ground.”

“So instead of tryin’ to play rock, paper, scissors, they’re goin’ to make themselves miserable. Dummies.”

That last part was said with affection and I could practically see the wheels turning in his head. Max tended not to get involved in people’s romantic lives since he couldn’t even navigate his own, but A.J. and Sofia were his family as much as they were mine, so I suspected meddling would happen.

“Pretty much. On another note, you need to promise to keep me upright if I get lightheaded from all these layers in this damn heat. I love the girls but a three-piece suit in Florida? I know it's almost Christmas but Jesus."

"Passin’ out would just give Ben's hot minister friend a reason to skip to the end of the ceremony so that Ben could plant one on you, killin’ two birds with one stone by resuscitatin’ you and bindin’ your lives together for ever and ever. Can I get an, AMEN?!"

I laughed when he winked at me, feeling my emotions settle down a little more. Even if we were partly pretending for now, moving forward was the only option on the table for us. And we’d eventually figure it because we always had. At the end of the day, Max and I would always be family.

I focused on that mantra while ignoring Max's deep baritone as he serenaded me with a rendition of ‘Sam and Ben sitting in a tree’ as I texted Ben back with emojis of both a red and a white rose, followed by a short text.

Sam: Amber also said that red and white roses symbolize unity when they’re paired together.

Ben's text back was immediate.

Ben: I love you too, but I had room service sprinkle only red rose petals on the bed for tonight.

I grinned.

Smartass.