Finding Home: Halos and Heroes, Bk 1 - 10. Chapter 10

When you jump for joy, beware that no one moves the ground from beneath your feet.

—Stanislaw Lec

The screech of my cell phone yanked me from the front row seat of my newest nightly symphony of voices screaming in the dark. I couldn’t see who the voices belonged to in that chaotic world, but all the phantoms haunting me, had called out my name in a synchronized chorus of horror and pain supported by the sharp crack of gunshots, as well as the deep baritone booms as unseen parts of the world around me, exploded with enough forces to rumble the ground beneath my feet, until my teeth chattered from the vibrations. This time, I’d thankfully, I’d been spared the additional olfactory manifestation of fear that sometimes accompanied my dreams. I didn’t need reminders of what blood drenched ground and seared flesh smelled like.

Awake, I could still hear the pained voices. My heart pounded hard in my chest as I shoved the soaked sheets away. They were drenched, but I’d gone to bed last night in just my boxer briefs after texting an apology to Ben about bailing on him and breaking our original plans to meet up after the support meeting. I was thankful for that unintentional foresight now, because it made clean up a lot easier. I also didn’t have to explain to Ben that despite what I’d said that night on his deck when I wasn’t sure if I could trust him with the truth, that this was a relatively regular occurrence for me. Even if I eventually did get help for the PTSD, the nightmares might never truly stop. Waking up in a pool of his boyfriend’s sweat, hopefully before I started screaming in my sleep, could become his new wild normal because.

Max could control me when I woke up from rough nightmares, but he usually had to manhandle me in ways I wasn’t sure Ben could. Hell, I wasn’t sure even the fittest men could, for the simple fact they wouldn't want the hassle. I couldn’t blame anyone for not wanting to deal with that kind of shit. I didn’t want to, and I lived with it. It was one of the reasons I’d never spent the night with any of my occasional hookups once the PTSD started manifesting at night.

Even if someone knew I had issues like Ben did, knowing with your head and actually facing the gritty reality were two very different experiences. Especially if things got violently physical. That could cancel out things like romantic interest really quick. I didn’t want to accidentally hurt anyone. It was the reason I kept my door locked at night.

I wiped my free hand over my face, physically manifested anxiety coating my face, neck and chest in a fine, damn sheen of sweat. My voice was strained as I pushed past the panic still creating a lump in my throat after I grabbed the phone from my nightstand. "Hello?"

"Hey, sleepyhead. Where are you? I've been waiting outside for five minutes."

"Tara?" I blinked again, rubbing a hand over my face. Dawn was just beginning to creep over the horizon, and thin streams of light wormed their way through the blinds, into my bedroom. I squinted against the glare as I tried to see the number illuminated on the screen of the digital clock on my nightstand.

"That's my name. Dangit, you forgot, didn't you? Look outside."

Forgot what?

I rolled out of bed and moved to the window for clarity because I wasn’t firing on all cylinders right now. My legs felt steadier than I expected though. That was promising if I actually needed to be somewhere other than my bedroom in the next few minutes.

When I parted the blinds, I spotted Tara standing outside near the in-ground pool that Sofia had installed a few years ago. The guestroom faced the pool, so I could see that Tara was in full workout gear, instead of one of her usual bohemian skirts or dresses. Granted, the sports bra she was wearing with dark purple leggings, was a blend of hot pink, purple and blue that still made her stand out in a bold exclamation of color. She'd left the fedora off today, and her long ponytail bobbed with impatience as she shifted from foot to foot.

"Damn," I muttered. The dots started to connect as the reality of her in the morning sunlight, miles off from the inky despair of my nightmares, helped pushed back some of the lingering aftereffect that’d been composed from as many memories as it was creative fear. "We're supposed to go for a run today."

"Yep, so get your butt moving, or I'm calling the house to sic Emma on you."

"On my way. Give me five minutes."

We hung up. I stripped the bed in record speed, tossing the sheets into the bathroom haphazardly so I could address them later. I brushed my teeth and put on some deodorant while I was still in there, then splashed some water on my face to bathe away the sweat. When I returned to the bedroom, I grabbed a pair of gray basketball shorts, and one of my new black tank tops, tugging it over my head to hide most of my scars, as well as my ink. There was nothing I could do to hide the bullet scar in my shoulder, but Tara knew I’d been shot, and the day was already on its way to being too hot for any kind of clothing, so this was good enough. A still damp hand passed through my hair, completed my hasty morning beauty routine that was only an asshair more minimal than my usual. Normally, I’d have worked a shower in there and actually made my bed.

I'd forgotten that Tara and I had made plans to go for a run after I’d walked her to her car when we’d left the diner that night last week, but I welcomed the distraction. Whoever said that running away from your problems wasn't a good solution, was full of shit. Faced with the options of stewing in my own guilt over past mistakes, both real and imagined, or burning myself out with cardio, I chose door number two.

After leaving Sofia a note about where I’d be since no one else was up yet, I grabbed my house keys and joined Tara outside. I waved a hand to silently announce my arrival before I headed toward her, hitting a light jogging speed almost immediately once we’d cleared the corner of the house and were on the public side of the pavement.

"You look like hell," Tara informed me, giving me the onceover as she fell into step beside me. "Rough night?"

My shrug earned me a shove to my shoulder that briefly threw off both my rhythm and hers so. We stumbled, but somehow managed not to fall. Our guardian angels must have already taken their places, ready for any potential fun and games.

"Friends don't lie to one another."

She sounded so much like Emma I would've smiled if I'd had the energy. "Sorry. Lousy dreams. Didn't sleep well," I said as I found my tempo again.

There were many things in life I was good at. There were plenty more that I bombed. Running was one of the good ones, however. I had good stamina, and I was pretty fast, so in addition to health and wellness, the daily exercise had the added benefits of helping me escape from my own head whenever I needed to. Feeling the ground hard and steady beneath my feet, and the cool breeze that not even Florida summers could defeat as long as I kept up a good speed, kept me sane. I’d started running in Junior high because it’d been a physical escape from home whenever things had gotten dicey. Once I’d learned how to let my mind wander, pushing through the strain, I’d realized that running fast was the freest feeling you could achieve, without the aid of some kind of wheeled vehicle. In the military, long treks though all kinds of tumultuous climates had become my new normal, but there was something about pounding the pavement on a muggy Florida morning, that made me able to breathe more easily, despite the cloying humidity.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Nope."

"You're such a boy,” Tara scoffed, not bothering to hide the sliver of amusement running through her voice. “All stoic and macho. Was it one of those naked in public dreams?"

"Nope. I haven’t had one of those since high school, when history class pop quizzes were still a thing."

"Darn." Tara grinned when I turned my head to eye her. "Hey, just because I don't want to bump uglies doesn't mean I can't appreciate the landscape purely for the aesthetics. The same goes for A.J. Gingers are a special kind of happy, sexy, hell demon. He obviously doesn’t have the necessary pieces required to make my lady bits celebrate, but I’m sure some women appreciate them. Sofia doesn’t seem to have an issue with those extra parts."

Tara laughed as my side eye became more pronounced. I was placated only by the fact that she seemed slightly out of breath already.

“Oh, don’t worry your protective papa bear head. Nothing has happened between them yet, at least nothing that she’s told me about. But there were definitely some flirty vibes happening in the kitchen before you and Ben showed up. She also blushed enough to make me feel like I was back in high school. Before I learned how to get my groove on,” she clarified. “Because yes, there was a point in time when I wasn’t the fabulous bitch you see now, hard as that may be to believe.”

My lips twitched when she grinned again.

“I already told A.J. that I’m okay with them doing whatever they decide to do, so long as I don’t get a play by play. They’re both adults, and despite all the trash he talked, there’s no one I’d trust Sofia with more. Maybe Max, but they’re like siblings so it’d never happen.”

“She’s said that in passing too, whenever she talked about him, and you. Both as her family and… as you two.” She lifted an eyebrow. A non-committal noise as my only acknowledgment since I couldn’t shrug while running this fast.

“I already told you that Max and I have had a casual arrangement for years. I also told you that I brought Ben up to speed about Max as soon as he showed interest in me. I’m not a player, a cheater, or a liar. I’ve just got issues. One of them is not knowing how to be in a relationship because I’ve been mostly closeted since joining the military. I don’t know how to do the open romance thing.”

“We all need to learn new things in order to grow as people, Sam. Fortunately for you, Ben has balls the size of a Clydesdale’s, and he’s all about education.”

I couldn’t confirm or deny that observation since I hadn’t personally seen what Ben was packing yet, but I had seen plenty of his stubborn persistence. My lips twitched before I made another noncommittal noise. Those seemed to work well enough to move the conversation along for now.

“So, have you talked to him yet?”

I shook my head. I hadn't seen Ben after the night I'd left the support group a week ago. I’d messaged him to apologize, but we hadn’t met up since then. "No, but he texts me daily with long silly messages loaded with exclamation points, and smiley face emojis. Sometimes he sends scripture passages. He also keeps asking me when we’re going to meet up for coffee. The man is more persistent than crotch itch."

Tara laughed. "Eventually you'll get worn down. He's good like that."

"He got close a few times," I admitted. "But like I said before, I don’t know if I’m ready for a boyfriend right now. I need to get my family back on track."

"And after that?"

This time I managed a half shrug in response, picking up my speed just a bit more. Since I ran about 10 miles daily, I was capable of keeping a strenuous pace. I hoped Tara wasn't, but she shot back to my side with the dogged determination of a heat-seeking missile.

"Okay, okay. Let’s start with something easier. Have you given more thought to coming back to the group?"

"I don’t know yet. To each their own, but I can't get into the whole religion thing."

"Who's asking you to? Kyle is Jewish. Hayley is agnostic. We just sit around and talk. No preaching going on."

"It’s just not really my scene, Tara. I went because Ben asked me to.”

“That’s fair, but there are other types of support groups out there if this one isn’t a fit. Maybe one geared specifically towards veterans would be less intimidating for you. They’d be your tribe; guys and gals who’ve seen some serious shit, so there’s definitely no room for glass houses.”

“Maybe. I’ll think about it.”

Tara sighed with a long-suffering sound, as if dealing with me put the weight of the world on her slim shoulders. I didn’t fall for it because I knew she counseled teenagers, and I had one of those at home.

“Soooo stoic and macho. How are things on the home front this week?”

“Things are okay with Sofia and Emma. We’re figuring things out. Addie has moved past visceral hatred every time she sees my face, to being able to be in the same room with me. Probably mostly because A.J.’s been around. He gets along well with the girls and Sofia, and is a good buffer for all of us. So, in that sense, things have improved. But Adelyn still won’t talk to me directly.”

"Hey, that’s still progress, believe me. I work with teens on a daily basis, and sometimes having a conversation with one is like dealing with E.T. and a bad phone connection." Tara rolled her eyes. "Family is the tie that binds and gags, my friend. If they're not making you crazy, they're not doing their job."

My lips curved into a slight smile. "Right."

"Laugh all you want. But I’m telling you, the sooner you drink the Kool-Aid, the happier you'll be."

"I'm thinking that having my own place might help."

Having a place of my own hadn’t been part of my initial plan, because I hadn’t planned on staying in Florida past Connor’s funeral. But Sofia had asked me to stay, so I had, and now there was no way I was walking out on them. However, wanting to honor Sofia’s wish didn’t seem to be helping Addie, and having A.J. around had given me some outside perspective. He’sd said that sometimes absence did actually make the heart grow fonder, especially for kids. I’d started perusing realtor ads just to have some options.

"You've been looking?"

I nodded. "Mostly apartments in the area, but my pockets aren't that deep."

"You can always stay with me if you need some space. I have a basement apartment that I was renting out to a woman I went on a few dates with. It didn't work out, so the apartment if vacant. I renovated it once she left, so everything is new and shiny. There was a lot of knocking down walls and burning of sage."

I laughed. "Bad breakup?"

"OMG the worst," she gushed. "Why is it that the craziest ones are always the hottest?”

“Life likes to keep you on your toes.”

“That girl kept me on daily doses of valium at the end,” she grumbled. “Seriously though, I could use the extra income, and since we like two different kinds of pie, we won't have any awkward morning-after moments. My place is less than a fifteen-minute drive from Sofia's. Nice neighborhood, good schools, and an amazing gelato place down the street. I can sneak in a container of sprinkles for Emma in my purse when she visits." She winked when I chuckled. "I'll even throw in rom-com movie nights once a week. I love me some Meg Ryan, but as an official late ‘80s kid, I’m all about the over-the-top hair, and big love drama. The same goes for cheesy power ballads. You’d have fun."

"Thanks, Tara. I'll think about it."

"No problem. Now let’s pick up the pace. The sooner we finish this run, the sooner I get my post-torture donut."

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I’m not kidding. And before that handsome face gets irreversibly destroyed by having its lips torn off for fat shaming, and I decide against sharing my yeasty, freshly baked donut goodies with you, remember that there’s no point in working out if you don't ingest enough calories to burn."

She grinned. I snorted at the absolute lack of logic but said nothing. I lived with three women. I knew that my best bet for continued life was just to keep my mouth shut about all things weight related.

I slid my ear buds in and picked up my pace when Tara took off. I caught up with her easily. As we made our way down the streets, I adjusted my longer stride, lessening the speed of my typical, harder clip, to give her shorter legs a chance to catch up. We eventually fell into a pace we were both able to maintain without Tara feeling like I’d dragged her into bootcamp.

It was quiet at this time of day. Dark houses and parked cars made no noise, and Tara stopped talking when we hit a steady speed a little faster than brisk. There was plenty of time to be alone with my thoughts, but each time old memories threatened to resurface, I ran a little faster, forcing Tara to keep up. Despite the fact that neither of us was talking, her company was comforting. Realistically, her slim form was a soft target like Sofia's and those of my nieces, but that mouth of hers might tip all odds in our favor if we had to take down any suburban misfit muggers.

The pavement beneath our feet glistened from this morning's early showers. The skies were still patchy, but by the time we'd gone less than five miles and reached the main drag, other early risers were beginning their morning runs and errands. Some of them were duos like us, others, single. One slim, up-and-at-em mother was pushing a rugged looking baby stroller as she jogged. It was all so damn normal and wholesome, that the remnants of my nightmarish hellscape dissolved into the warmth of a perfectly cloudless, sunny day in Suburbia.

From my peripheral vision, I could see Tara starting to visibly lag. I could've easily banged out another five miles, but I slowed down as I rounded a turn to give her a chance to catch up. Eventually we’d have to walk back, so I didn’t want to gas her. We were on a main street now, and I could smell coffee. I didn’t know where it was coming from, but where there was coffee, there were probably donuts.

"Hey,” I said, removing my earbuds before I gestured to her. When she removed her own headset, I heard what sounded like, Heaven is a Place on Earth, before she turned the sound off. She had said she liked 80’s power ballads.

“I smell caffeine and could use it, so let's go get your donut too. If you pass out on me, I'll have to carry you and find out you probably aren’t all water weight."

I grinned when she flipped me off.

"Do you always run like a damn demon?"

Tara grumbled about overachievement being a personality disorder, as she led me down the street to a small coffee shop.

My grin widened as I stretched out with the help of the coffeeshop’s brick side wall, careful not to block the front door so people could go in and out. The place was packed despite the early hour. Apparently, we weren’t the only ones in need of caffeine and a sugar high.

"I was going easy on you, but if you can’t keep up just tell me next time. There’s no shame in it. I was Special Forces.”

“Gloating isn’t a good look on you, Samuel Trammell. And I’m fine. I just need to get two donuts instead of one. You’re paying, because this place has the best coffee in town."

I raised my arms over my head, chuckling as I worked out the remaining morning kinks. My body tingled from the exertion, but the endorphins were kicking in, and I felt subtly energized. That feeling shot through the roof along with my blood pressure when l Ben walked out of the café. He was holding one of those cardboard cup holders filled with only one Styrofoam coffee cup. It was balanced on top of several boxes of donuts. Three, maybe four.

I looked over at Tara who batted her lashes at me, all overly exaggerated innocence, as if she’d had no idea that the man I was a mere step below actively avoiding because my fucking hormones went haywire every time I was around him, would also be here at the ass crack of dawn.

"Best coffee in town my ass," I muttered.

She smiled. "Best donuts too. And it just so happens to be right around the corner from Maplewood, and the place Ben gets donuts every Saturday morning for the kids. And whoops, wouldn't ya know, it's Saturday. Good thing I started running out of steam right around here, and have such a conscientious, kind running partner willing to stop for me."

She grinned. I stared at her.

I’d been fucking played.

Tara winked at me, then turn to Ben. "Morning, Ben. Fancy meeting you here."

Ben's smile was genuinely surprised. He’d clearly had no previous knowledge of Tara’s planned ambush. He looked pleased though.

"Hey, guys. What are you doing out so early?"

I wiggled the wire attached to my ear buds in response. "We went for a run. Tara decided she needed to bribe herself with a donut so she could keep up with me. I would’ve smoked her if she hadn’t played the, out-of-shape, damsel-in-distress card.”

“Ow!!” I said as Tara pinched the sensitive skin beneath my armpit hard.

"Did you already forget our earlier conversation about fat shaming? I’m definitely not sharing my goodies with you now."

"I thought we weren't into each other's goodies." I was trying to keep a straight face, but Ben laughed when Tara poked me.

"Don't be mean, or I bet Father Ben won't share his goodies with you either. Make him work for it," she said to Ben. To me, she said, "Sam, call me later to figure out the moving details."

Tara wiggled her fingers, then took off without getting any kind of donut. I’d been right about a setup.

Ben raised an amused eyebrow at me before he held out the Styrofoam coffee cup. "You look like you could use this. And don’t worry. It’s black. It’s a great blend, but they never add enough milk or sugar for my tastes, so I just sweeten it at home myself.”

Of course he did.

“C'mon. I'll show you around Maplewood since Tara cut and ran on you."

"Did you put her up to this?"

"No, but I'm not complaining."

He gestured for me to follow him down the opposite end of the block, then around the corner to a larger than perfectly modest, terracotta building. The lawn was neatly manicured with trim grass, and a soft blue painted fence surrounding it that I opened the unlocked gate to since Ben's hands were full. Colorful flowerpots teeming with plants, adorned the steps, adding warmth to the entrance. A few bikes were chained to a rack at the side of the house. They gave obvious signs of young life, though nothing on the exterior screamed religion. The flag on the lawn was just a generic one with flora and fauna spilling out of an upside-down umbrella.

Inside, the layout wasn’t modern, but the dark hardwood floors beneath our feet as we walked down the hall, gleamed, and I caught a hint of bleach in the air. The windows were all clean and draped with simple curtains, and the walls on this main level were painted in calming shades of blue and green. The brief glimpse I got of the furniture in the living room, looked over-stuffed and comfortable; perfect for kids to sprawl out on while they watched TV.

The kitchen we walked into was immaculate even though the linoleum tile was an unfortunate pattern that probably hadn’t been seen since the 70’s.

"Can you grab that bag to your right on the counter and see if there's cereal in there?" Ben set the donut boxes down on the oblong dining room table in the kitchen. "I bought groceries this morning, but haven't had a chance to put everything away yet. I wanted to get to the bakery before it got too crazy. It’s a really popular spot in town. They bake everything fresh each morning."

I looked where he pointed and fished through the bag obediently. It was one of those green, recycled fabric ones that Sofia kept in her car. Ben took the boxes of cereal when I held them out, beginning to stock the shelves. As he worked, teenagers of varying ages drifted in and out of the kitchen to help themselves to donuts that they put on paper plates from a short stack on the kitchen counter. They even took napkins with them. All well trained, young eating machines who looked at me with obvious curiosity, but like most kids around strangers, kept their distance.

"So, this is Maplewood?" I asked when we were finally alone again with one box of donuts completely empty. All the jelly and sprinkle ones had been scavenged from both a second and third box. I’d seen one of the kids with four donuts piled on his plate, so either he had dreams of a sugar coma in his future, or he had a friend who was too shy to come into the kitchen while I was there.

I wasn’t a junk food fan, but Ben had said that this place was popular, and the kids seem to agree, so I took a step outside my comfort zone and grabbed a glazed donut. I could smell the sweet yeast. Unlike Tara, I’d actually worked out earlier, so I could justify the ridiculous number of calories. The donut was still warm, and the glaze smeared all over my fingers as they sunk into the soft squish of fresh dough. It was probably the best way to commit a sin against my waistline.

Ben smiled as he watched me. "I started the organization with the money Charlie left me, but now we get some support through the church as well as some local state funding and generous private donations. People have really rallied around the idea of helping kids who just need a second chance. We get mostly young teens—a lot of runaways with hard home lives, who opt for the streets as an outlet. But we try not to discriminate if someone needs a place to stay, so we keep kids up to age twenty-one if they need the extra help. We help them find small, part-time summer jobs while they’re in school, then decent entry level positions once they graduate high school if they don’t want to go to college. If they do, we help them find grants, scholarships, and financial assistance for people living below the poverty line.”

“That’s a lot of effort put into kids' other people have washed their hands of.”

I paused, realizing how that probably sounded when Ben raised an eyebrow in silent question.

“That came out wrong. What I mean is, when Connor and I were kids, we’d sometimes ask each other why we ended up with the life we did… with a fucked up, alcoholic father who beat the shit out of us, and out of our mom. A mom who never fought back and just let it happen to her, and to us, over and over again. We used to wonder why no one ever came to save us.”

I shrugged when I saw the usual compassion in Ben’s eyes soften in a way meant just for me; for what I was telling him now, and maybe for the 8-year-old Sam who used to put his hand over his brother’s ears when Connor and I hid under my bed. Connor had only been younger by 5 minutes, but that time had mattered in my head, even back then, so I always told him to think about something other than the chaos we could hear in the kitchen when our dad went after our mom for whatever imagined transgression. Something louder than his shouts, and her begging screams, that would block it all out. I’d meant something like fireworks, but I still remembered sitting side by side on the beach when we were almost eleven, after I’d dragged Connor out of the house on a particularly bad day. I’d been sporting a split lip from my dad’s backhand, but I’d gotten us both out, and I was the only one of us bleeding. I’d considered it a win, but as I’d wiped my tender mouth with the edge of my palm, Connor had quietly told me while we stared at the water, that instead of fireworks, he always thought about the explosive power of bombs.

I inhaled deeply, then breathed out, not bothering to hide the soft whoosh of sound from Ben.

“I understand. When I was on the streets, having a safe place to spend the night without turning tricks, was a rare luxury."

My lips quirked slightly at the corners as I try to find a way to lighten the mood, a part of me not wanting to contaminate this warm place that Ben was trying to make a sanctuary for these kids, with my own past.

“So is this donut. I usually stay away from junk food, but I had fries and onion rings with Tara the other night, so a donut with you only seems fair.”

Ben laughed, so despite my strong convictions about healthy food choices bringing me one step closer to a solid mind and body experience, I took a bite. And promptly almost creamed myself on the spot, my entire body overtaken by a culinary euphoria. “Holy shit that’s good.”

Ben’s eyes crinkled. He didn’t chastise me for the profanity. He simply got me a paper towel he tore off from the roll on the counter. Then he grabbed a large metal coffee can that was spray painted a bright, cheerful shade of blue, and set it in front of me before taking his seat again. A glance down into the open mouth, revealed a mass of silver coins of varying sizes, piled almost to the top. There were more than a few quarters resting on the upper layer.

His being a smartass was obviously my penance. Accepting my fate and paying the price would’ve been the simplest, cut and dry resolution to this situation. It’s what I’d been doing since the first moment I’d met Ben, and felt that unexpected spark of pure chemistry between us; taking the easy way out. Right now, though, I was suddenly seized by the desire to change up the gameplay. I’ been cautious because while Ben easily one of the best and safest human beings I’d ever met, he also flipped my world ass over tea kettle to a place that to my emotionally constipated mind, felt dangerous. He was the epitome of hope and possibility. I’d given up on both of those a long time ago. But maybe... maybe it was time for a change. I wasn’t fixing Connor’s messes anymore. I was trying to build my own life. So maybe, instead of always being the guy who tried to put out the fires, I should light one myself…

I met Ben’s eyes and enjoyed the slight dilation of his pupils when I polished off the donut in two more bites, before deliberately sucking my forefinger and thumb clean like I might suck a similarly clear, much more erotic substance off with my tongue in private. My tongue and teeth released my thumb with a soft popping sound, before I dried my saliva dampened fingers on the side of my shorts. Ben’s gaze followed my movements, his eyes gleaming with an obvious, very male interest that was assessing, almost predatory, I grinned as I removed a $20 bill from my wallet. I rolled it into a little tube before I dropped it into the can.

“For my past, and some of my inevitable future screwups,” I clarified.

“Starting a tab probably isn’t the way to kick the habit, Sam.”

I shrugged. “Maybe not, but I’m pragmatic, so let’s be real. My mouth needs to be trained… and the donut alone was worth ten dollars anyway.”

When Ben’s gave swept my face and seemed to linger in the vicinity of said mouth, the devil took hold of my tongue to fan the flames. “The way you’re looking at me right now… That’s definitely worth the additional ten.”

Ben’s eyes widened, before they half-lidded. He made a soft sound low in his throat. I couldn’t tell whether it was exasperation, arousal, or a mixture of both, but my dick definitely knew which way it was leaning towards. I’d never been a cock tease before, but I was blaming Ben. He brought out another side of me; Flirty, adventurous. Able to fucking breathe, because if he could be steady and stable enough to manage a houseful of teenagers, maybe he really could handle me.

My tongue lightly traced my lips. I hadn’t been aiming for sexy, just to moisten them because they’d just felt as dry as the inside of my mouth did. But that had obviously not been the message the movement relayed to Ben. His eyes were lit up with appreciation as he made another sound low in his throat.

“You’re playing with fire, Sam,” he murmured.

Yes, yes, I was, and it was exhilarating. Possibly foolish, but definitely hot as all fuck.

“I’m brave when there’s kids in the house… We have to be on our best, responsible adult behavior, so I can be all mouth without the action to back it. But I’ll stop. I know I’m probably giving you whiplash with all the hot and cold.”

“I don’t want you to stop,” Ben said. “FYI, I can multitask, which means I can be responsible and still…” He let his sentence trail off as he stepped closer, sliding his left hand around my waist to close the gap between us. His right hand cupped the side of my face as he leaned forward, gently bumping his nose against mine. He held his position there for a moment. My lips parted instinctively when I felt the warmth of his breath, but he didn’t kiss me like I expected. Like I wanted. Instead, the tip of his tongue lightly traced the outline of my mouth. A tease meant to throw me off my game. One that snatched control right back out of my hands.

I exhaled shakily, my skin feeling bereft from the absence of his touch when he pulled back. “You had a little glaze on your bottom lip,” he murmured.

Liar, liar pants on fire, Father Santiago.

I’d been very deliberate about teasing him earlier, so I knew for sure that there was no glaze left on my mouth. We both knew it, but I grinned anyway.

“Thanks for the assist.”

“No problem. Back to work.”

Ben released me, then moved back to his bag. He tossed me a couple of soup cans to put in the cupboard closest to me. I caught them, and we worked in a comfortable quiet for a few minutes to empty the bags and fill the refrigerator and cupboards. The silence felt almost domestic, with a house full of kids, and us putting away groceries that in another world, we might be taking out later to make dinner for us and the teenage tribe of lost kids. It was hard to catch myself because for a moment, I wanted to linger in the possibility of that timeline. Fortunately, I caught myself before I got too carried away.

Ben was being quieter than normal, probably feeling me out to see if I’d bolt after that brief, intimate moment between us. After the last few times we'd been together, I couldn't blame him if that was his assumption, especially not after how I’d reacted at the group. But I didn’t have any plans to run right now. I had at least an hour, possibly two including travel time, before I was expected back home. Ben’s company was more appealing than adding more time to my morning run. Being with him was so easy it scared the shit out of me when I overthought it, so the first order of business right now was to stop doing that.

"The kids seem happy here."

Ben smiled. “I hope so. We try and maintain an open, structured atmosphere. As long as they're here, the kids have to attend school and keep away from drugs, booze and the kind of influences that’d force our hand to transfer them to a less relaxed facility. We try to avoid that at all costs, which is why Tara meets with each of them three times a week for mandatory sessions, as well as additional check-ins if she thinks they need it, or at my or the kids own requests. Thankfully, they’re all pretty open with me and our peer volunteers. Addie just signed up to be one. It’s been good for the kids, but also for her. Sometimes they can communicate with one another in ways they can’t talk to us.”

“That makes sense.”

“Yes, it does. The same goes for adult peer to peer mentorship.”

I rolled my eyes in an Adelyn worthy performance, but when Ben pulled out a chair for me at the table, I sat without protest. He shifted his own around to face mine, and smiled as he straddled the chair backward before stacking his arms on the top of the chairback. The position put an emphasis on all the lean muscle that was obvious in his arms beneath the sleeves of his burgundy t-shirt, as well as the strength of his legs and thighs in the khaki-colored cargo shorts he had on. He was still wearing black sneakers but with those no-show white socks usually worn by women, and hated by men like me with large, wide feet, because they always ended up bunched around my toes by mid-day.

“I’m sorry about leaving like that. I shouldn’t have blown you off. It was a dick move.”

“It’s alright, Sam. We all get a little overwhelmed when we have to try something new. I’m just happy you showed up at all. That was a big first step. So was leaving with Tara, even though you knew she’s my closest friend, and a therapist who knows how to get sulky kids to open up. You get extra points for that bravery alone.” He grinned when I snorted softly because yeah, I’d caught that gentle barb.

“I would be insulted by that if you weren’t right. I don’t love the shrink angle, but she’s cool. Nothing like any therapist I’ve met before.”

“She’s great. I confide in her as much as she confides in me. Like I said, we all need someone to talk to. When the people we choose to talk to have been there before, it can really help.”

“I have Max and A.J. but no one who hasn’t known me as a kid from a rough home, or the good soldier who gets shit done. This is all different. Not bad, but definitely an adjustment. Tara also suggested support groups that catered to veterans. I haven’t bothered to Google anything though.”

“When you decide you’re ready, I know of a few,” Ben said with a warm smile. “As a very active spiritual leader in the community, I have access to a lot of different people and resources. Law enforcement personnel often attend the same types of support groups. It helps give new perspectives sometimes. There isn’t a rush though. Like I said, I’m happy with you just slowly letting people in. I’d like to be one of those people, especially since we just seem to keep meeting like this. I do so love God’s mysterious ways."

I snorted softly, but Ben’s smile drew mine out. "There’s not much mystery in Tara's matchmaking. She's as transparent as a window. Granted, I probably should’ve seen it coming, but I fell for her tired chick shtick."

“In your defense, Tara really does love donuts. However she’s also been kickboxing for years. We actually met after she defended herself from getting her purse snatched by one of the kids who came through our program about seven years ago.” He paused and grinned. “Ellory was seventeen and didn’t know what hit him. Tara decided not to press charges. After she and I talked and I realized she was struggling with her own demons, and needed something to believe in and fight for, I invited her to start working with the kids. She’s been with us ever since.”

I smiled, because good God, this man really was a fisher for all. “So you’re saying I totally got played.”

“You absolutely did. I’ll reward her for a job well done later with an entire box of donuts.”

I didn't know how to answer that, so I changed the subject by looking around the kitchen. “This table is huge. Do you all eat together?”

Ben nodded. “They’re allowed to have snacks in the family and game room, but we don’t allow food in the bedrooms, mostly to discourage hiding out in there when we’re trying to encourage socialization. We always eat dinner together because I feel that family bonds often begin in the kitchen. Food tends to bring people together.”

I nodded slightly. “That’s probably true for most people, but for Connor and me, the kitchen was usually just a place where we saw my mom get the shit beat out of her, or walked into after the fact to help scoop her off the floor and get her to the ER. There was never really much food in the house either. Once she got sick and our dad couldn’t be bothered to remember we were alive unless he needed a beer fetched, Connor and I learned to be pretty self-sufficient.”

Ben’s expression softened in sympathy. “I’m sorry Sam.”

“I’m the one who should be sorry. I feel like I’m constantly bringing down the mood. I just don’t have a lot of clearcut, happy family memories. Unless you count the time I spent, and still do spend with the Melones. They’re more my family than my bio one ever was. They’re good people, but sometimes the situation I have going on with Max complicates things.”

“Do they not approve of the relationship you have going on?”

“No, it’s definitely not that. We’ve never really confirmed or denied a relationship, but they know how close we are. To be honest, they’d probably like nothing more than for us to end up together, but they know how Max is. His dad’s a good guy, but he has high expectations like I’ve told you before, and he’s career military all the way. Max isn’t and he sometimes makes a lot of comparisons between Max and me. It irks me because it hurts Max. He won’t admit it, but I know him, so I just avoid giving any information about our arrangement. His dad would probably hold it against Max, considering it another shortcoming, or failing for refusing to become a, 'family man.' ”

“That’s tough. It’s a lot to put on anyone, especially on yourself.”

“I know. Max would hate it if he knew.” I shrugged. “We’ve never lied to each other, but sometimes keeping things from him for his own good is the best plan of action I can come up with. I’m more open with A.J. about some things. He was in the trenches with me—literally— so we have a pretty strong bond. Aside from the occasional teasing commentary, there’s absolutely no romantic chemistry between us. It keeps things simple.”

“Under the right circumstances, romantic chemistry is amazing.”

Ben grinned. I fidgeted slightly in my seat under his flirtatious gaze. It was ridiculous how unsettled the man could make me feel, even as his smile and easy manner invited me to open up to him in every possible way. I’d never had even the slightest illusion that love at first sight existed. Love, at least the kind I was most familiar and comfortable with, was earned through loyalty and time. Always time. Slow to build. Mostly because I was even slower to trust most people. But whatever was happening between Ben and I, had been full throttle almost from day one. And that bugged me, because it confused me. Confusion could lead to loss of control. Loss of control… Well, that was unacceptable to me because of the experiences that had made me who I was.

I wanted to say that to Ben, somehow knowing in my heart that he’d understand. But that just tangled my logic up with more perplexing emotion. It was overall, a jumbled mess of what-the-fuckery, that lodged a knot low in my belly.

Throughout my life, I’d been a lot of things, but circumstances had been rare when I’d fallen into the categories of either coward, or asshole. Not until I’d left Florida, and everything in it that reminded me of my previously fucked up family history. That had been cowardly asshole mistake number one. There’d been few others since then, other than not telling Max exactly how I felt about him once and for all rather than this game of omission that was a pretty clear mistake number two, that'd spanned two fucking decades. I wasn’t sure I wanted avoiding Ben to be mistake number three. Maybe instead, if I following A.J.’s logic, Ben could be my permanent, third time charm. Max was clearly the first love of my life. Devlin was close enough to be considered the second, even if it hadn’t been a purely romantic love between us.

I swallowed hard, glancing up at Ben through my lashes slightly. Only when Ben’s eyes traced my face and focused on my mouth, did I remember Max once saying that when I did that, I embodied a tempting blend of vulnerability and sexiness he claimed was too much for anyone’s good.

Words failed me, so I picked up the cup of coffee Ben had given me earlier. When I took a sip, the liquid was still warm, and blessedly black and unsweetened. I took a second sip, then a third while Ben just waited me out with the slightest smile touching his mouth, like he had an idea I was trying to figure out my next movie.

“Okay…well…yeah…that’s probably right.”

I winced inwardly as my ears registered my own words.

For fuck’s sake.

If there was a God, I just wanted to put it out there right here, right now, that striking me down would be a merciful act.

My teeth worried the edge of the up before I suddenly had an idea. It might be a little dumb, but it was possibly something we could both work with. Sighing, I put the cup down on the table.

“Have you ever played the game, Two Truths and a Lie?”

Ben arched an eyebrow, but his smile was slowly widening, then deepening with an expression I was learning to recognize as a surprised pleasure.

“I have. Do you want to play it now?”

I nodded. “It’s probably a lot less painful than listening to me stammer and illustrate that I have absolutely no fucking game.”

The laughter that rolled from Ben’s chest was low and easy. His hazel eyes lightened with amused amber glints like he was already thinking up his own truths and lies.

“Okay, that’s fair. Do you want me to go first, or would you prefer to?”

“Honestly, I’d prefer if you did, but I’d probably punk out, so I’ll start.”

Ben’s hand curled over mine, loosely linking our fingers together. I glanced down at our hands, then looked up at him again. “Human lie detector?”

He grinned at the weak joke. “Nope, I just like touching you.”

I felt my cheeks heating. Was I blushing again like a goddamn teenager?

After grunting in acquiescence, I considered what I wanted to say. The game had been my idea, so technically I had control, but it still didn’t make finding words that much easier. I decided to start small and definitely a little lame.

“Okay, here we go.” I met his eyes across the table. “My middle name is Thomas. I’ve always wanted to go to Italy. I once boosted a Ferrari, but didn’t get caught.”

Ben snorted. His obvious affectionate exasperation at my transparent cop out, relaxed me. “I know. It’s a really tough one.”

“Although I have absolutely no doubt you’re excellent with your hands, and know for a verified fact that you’re good with cars because Sofia has photos of you fixing an old Camaro she said you took on a road trip, I’m going to bet that you never stole any car, let alone someone’s ridiculously expensive, bright red, ‘come and catch me,’ midlife crisis.”

I shifted in my chair to get more comfortable, then shrugged. “You’re correct. I probably could’ve if I wanted to, But I was usually too busy keeping Connor out of trouble to get into much of it on my own. Thank God for small miracles right?”

Ben’s lips parted like he wanted to say something, but thought better of it. Instead, he got a thoughtful expression in his eyes as his thumb swiped back and forth over the top of my hand with the smooth glide of a pendulum.

“Okay. My turn.”

He grinned as he leaned in closer to me like he didn’t want his voice to carry too much in the event kids came into the kitchen to filch more donuts. He wasn’t close enough for me to feel the warmth of his breath, but I could imagine it just as clearly as I could the scent of cinnamon.

“I’ve always wanted to be a priest. I love peanut butter sandwiches with ridged potato chips inside instead of jelly, and I once dislocated my jaw while blowing a client.”

I blinked, my eyes surely rounding to complete a picture that was probably the epitome of shock when my lips parted. Ben had thrown the idea of starting slow right out the fucking window.

My free hand lifted to rub across the back of my neck, because I couldn’t even begin to fathom which was the lie. Peanut butter sandwiches with potato chips were gross enough to be true, so I’d put that in the truth holding cell for now. But the other two? With his warm and compassionate nature, having always felt a calling to serve a higher power was completely plausible. I wasn’t totally sold on the idea that he could’ve gone from wanting that kind of life, to becoming a high-priced escort, even if he’d felt desperate when he’d had to make the choice. But the last one… that couldn’t possibly be true, could it? How the hell would that even happen? Had he been giving too long and thorough a blowjob to some lucky bastard that just went wrong? I knew he’d been paid well to suck, fuck, and God only knew what else. But because I didn’t want to imagine Ben like that with some random stranger who took advantage of him, my mind stupidly switched to a scenario of him and me in his bed, while he used that talented, wicked tongue that could make my toes curl with just a kiss, to tease me until I exploded down his throat within five minutes. Considering how responsive my body seemed to be to his, I wasn’t going to delude myself into believing I’d last long enough for him to get fatigued, let alone dislocate anything.

I cleared my throat to banish the thoughts before they could become a visual problem for my body. “Jesus Ben…” I rubbed the back of my neck again as he started humming the Jeopardy theme song beneath his breath.

Wiseass.

“The dislocation thing.”

Ben tilted his head to the side, a pair of crevices deepening between his eyebrows as he tsked his tongue at me. “So, so far from a lie. It’s honestly probably one of the most embarrassing true stories from that part of my past history.” He looked amused when I blinked again. “I used to have TMJ before I had jaw surgery a few years ago. It sometimes clicked when I yawned wide, or had to open my mouth to take a big bite out of something like an apple, but it’d never really been a problem otherwise until that night. I was young and still relatively inexperienced, so that was problem number one. Problem number two, was that my client had forgotten to take his Viagra for his ED, and despite how enticing I was back then, he was having some problems in his personal Houston.”

The hand that I didn’t have laced through his, moved just in front of my mouth like I might be stifling a sudden, ill-timed yawn, though I was pretty sure he knew my lips were twitching behind it.

“And?”

“And I gave it the old college try for almost an hour. He was one of my kinder clients and honestly, sucking an appreciative man off was, and still is one of my favorite things to do.”

His lazily sultry smile added an extra layer of eroticism to the words already being spoken at an intimately low level meant for my ears only. My hand unintentionally flexed in Ben’s. My dick did the same in my shorts. Ben noticed because he followed my gaze downward when I looked to will my erection away. When our eyes met again, my cheeks were flaming. He was still smiling.

“Unfortunately, my troublesome TMJ kicked in, and my jaw dislocated for about fifteen seconds before Amos was able to help me pop it back into place. I was humiliated, but as I said, he was kind. We both laughed about it once I had a good amount of aspirin in me. We figured out another arrangement that left him more than satisfied, and my reputation remained intact until now.”

I couldn’t help it. I started to chuckle, my own embarrassment momentarily forgotten because damn. My laughter slowly blossomed until I had to drop my head to avoid looking at him. When I finally got control of myself, I cleared my throat.

“Ok… So, on that note I guess I have to level up right?”

“For the sake of my pride, I’d say definitely yes.”

I pretended to sigh, then studied Ben for a long moment. The thumb of my free hand traced the rim of my coffee cup as I considered my options. After a moment, I said, “My family used to go hiking together sometimes. I have ink, and I once got caught sexting in church when I was seventeen.”

Ben’s eyes crinkled with interest immediately. “Better… and you know which two I want to be true, so as much as I’m all for happy family memories and wish the first one wasn’t the lie, we are in Florida, so hiking is probably out.”

I cleared my throat a bit self-consciously, then gave him the thumbs up. “Two for two. We never went hiking, though we did have this tiny boat, more like a dinghy, that we all managed to fit on when Connor and I were kids. We’d pile into it, then go out on the water while Dad tried to fish on the days he wasn’t blitzed out of his mind, Connor and I would sing along to the radio with my mom. We only did it a handful of times. When she got sick, we completely stopped, but those are probably the most decent memories of my early childhood.”

The tips of Ben’s fingers on the hand not holding mine, began a light tap on top of his chair. “Can you sing?”

“Yes,” I deadpanned. “If you want ears across the world to bleed.”

He laughed. “Tell me about the ink.”

“I thought you were going to ask about the sexting in church.”

His teeth flashed white and wicked. “Since I have to preach weekly sermons, the last thing I need to do is imagine a teenage Sam with a hardon and an appealingly guilty conscience if he was anything like you are now, saying, ‘amen!’ with a bit more gusto than necessary whenever your phone buzzed at appropriate times.”

“It was because of one of the inappropriate ones that I got caught.” I grimaced. “Max was sitting on the other side of his cousin, Cindy. She figured out what we were doing when he snickered, and I went red as a beet. I got distracted during the prayer when she shot him the hairy eyeball, and said amen before the choral Our Father was over.”

Ben began to snicker, turning his face into his arm for a moment before he glanced up at me with one eye. The fond amusement in that one look immediately soothed my ego.

“Tell me about the ink,” he said his voice slightly muffled by his arm.

I couldn’t exactly say no at this point, though this was definitely going to sober the mood again. Silently, I got up from my chair, then straddled it backward, with my arms stacked on the back of it like his were. I wanted to be able to watch the doorway, and still offer my back for visual exploration after I hiked up my shirt.

The tattoo took up most of my back, though it began low enough on my neck, several inches below where the collar of a t-shirt would be, so it wasn’t seen when I was dressed. That was the only reason I’d been allowed to keep it, though it’d been a source of contention between me and upper brass. I probably would’ve retired back then if they’d pushed the issue, but they hadn’t, so here we were.

Expertly and intricately drawn eagle wings were protectively curled around a graceful, watercolor rendering of an American flag. It was the perfect backdrop to highlight the dog tags with the call signs of all my fallen teammates from my Ranger team, without taking away from them.

I’d paid an arm and a leg to have the best tattoo artist I could find in Alabama after I’d gone home with Max to spend some time with his parents, to create the work. It was a visual masterpiece of skill and color, yet most people who saw the tattoo, reacted with visible discomfort, like Devlin had. It was the average response, so I was slightly startled when I heard the legs of Ben’s chair scrape lightly across the linoleum floor. That surprise was a lot less than the one that zipped through my entire body like an electric shock when his fingers followed the edges of what felt like every single feather on the wings that would forever maintain vigil over the people I’d failed to protect.

My head lowered onto my stacked arms. Though he could probably see the tension cording in my shoulders and back, as well as feel it, Ben didn’t stop his gentle exploration of one of the most painful parts of my past. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t back away like most people did. He just accepted the ink as part of me, without any of the inane questions people occasionally asked. He was smart enough to know what the ink meant, and the fact that he paid reverent, but silent homage to it, made my throat tighten with emotion even as my body began to relax beneath his touch.

"All these names...are these the men who died the night you were shot?"

I nodded slightly, profoundly grateful that the rough sounding note in my voice could be blamed on the muffling effect of my face in my arm.

"My CO’s told me that I needed to get it removed if I was going to join Delta. I very politely, for the first time in my career, told them to shove it up their ass because I’d have retired voluntarily before I got it removed.”

“I’m surprised that went over at all.”

“It probably wouldn’t have if I hadn’t also told them that it would be a non-issue if I ever got caught by enemy combatants. They knew my mom was dead, that I had no contact with my father, and that I wanted no contact with Connor. I didn’t go into the why’s, and they didn’t ask. The fact that I was okay with not coming home if it was for the good of the country, was enough for them.”

As much as I hated to shift away from Ben’s touch, I did so I could tug my t-shirt back down into place. Then I got up to turn my chair back to face Ben, though I remained straddling it backward like he still was. I forced myself to ease the concern in his eyes by briefly sliding a hand lightly down his arm. "We all knew what we were risking. We accepted the creed."

"The creed?"

"The Ranger creed." I paused before reciting the words that I'd held close to my heart for years, even after I’d left it behind. "Recognizing that I volunteered as a Ranger, fully knowing the hazards of my chosen profession, I will always endeavor to uphold the prestige, honor, and high esprit-de-corps of my Ranger Regiment. Acknowledging the fact that a Ranger is a more elite Soldier who arrives at the cutting edge of battle by land, sea, or air, I accept the fact that as a Ranger my country expects me to move further, faster and fight harder than any other Soldier. Never shall I fail my comrades. I will always keep myself mentally alert, physically strong, and morally straight and I will shoulder more than my share of the task, whatever it may be, one hundred percent and then some. Gallantly will I show the world that I am a specially selected and well-trained Soldier. My courtesy to superior officers, neatness of dress, and care of equipment shall set the example for others to follow. Energetically will I meet the enemies of my country. I shall defeat them on the field of battle for I am better trained and will fight with all my might. Surrender is not a Ranger word. I will never leave a fallen comrade to fall into the hands of the enemy and under no circumstances will I ever embarrass my country. Readily will I display the intestinal fortitude required to fight on to the Ranger objective and complete the mission, though I be the lone survivor." I breathed out slowly. "Rangers lead the way."

Ben's expression softened when I met his eyes. "Intense."

I shrugged. "I'm sure you took special oaths when you became a priest. It's the same thing."

"Hence why on that first night we spent together, you said that you wanted to be respected for your decisions, and don't like the idea of predestination." He smiled, reaching one arm over the gap between our chairs to gently stroke my face. “I get it now.” His smile warmed when I turned my face ever so slightly to brush my lips across his fingertips.

He let his hand fall away with obvious. “One more round?”

“After all that, you’re still in the mood to play?”

“Sam, when are you going to realize that when it comes to you, I’m always up for learning something new?"

“No wonder you made the big bucks,” I muttered. “Suave, thy true name is Benjamin Santiago.”

Ben laughed outright this time before he got up out of his chair. I raised an eyebrow curiously. He gestured at the coffee pot. “I didn’t have any this morning. I wanted to get to the donut shop as soon as they opened because that’s when the donuts are fresh out of the oven. They serve good coffee there too, so I always just buy it there on Saturdays. Two birds with one stone.”

”And then you went and gave your cup to me,” I said drolly, watching as he moved around to set up the coffee maker. It was one of the older models that brewed caffeinated goodness with a lot more cheerful noise than it’s later, more subdued modern brethren did. Max had a Keurig. I hated it, because I never felt the flavor of the coffee from the little pods was worth the price tag. Ben seemed to agree with me that quality mattered more than sleek bells and whistles. When the scent of the coffee registered only seconds before heard the familiar liquid waterfall begin, Ben turned to smile at me.

“You needed it, so it was a worthwhile sacrifice. And this way, I get the entire pot to myself to enjoy throughout the day.”

“So, there are times when even a priest is completely self-motivated.”

“Silly rabbit,” Ben tsked. “Are you only now catching onto that, while sitting in my kitchen, right where I want you?”

Laughing, I held out my cup after removing the lid. Ben topped off my coffee despite his proclamation to keep it all himself, then poured some into a mug that had a smiling penguin on it. I snorted softly as I sipped mine, watching him go through an almost ritualistic experience of adding what was probably a half a cup of heavy cream. I stopped counting how many tablespoons of sugar he was using after the 6^th one.

When Ben returned to his seat with his bastardized coffee, he nodded at me. “Last call. I don’t want to make your head explode with all this sharing, so I’ll be merciful. Make it good.”

I eyed him over the edge of my cup, then said, “I’m a decent ballroom style dancer because I had a properly bred Southern lady who did the whole debutante ball thing, teach me. I’m afraid of roller coasters, and… I once told Max I was in love with him. He still turned me down.”

Ben studied me so intensely, shame and embarrassment began to creep in. I knew exactly which of those was the lie, even though it was technically grounded in some truth. But I’d started this, so I had to stay all in. I kept my gaze on his instead of looking into my coffee cup, surprised that despite the discomfort, it was a lot easier to open up to Ben the longer we talked.

“That last one ticks me off to a degree you cannot even begin to understand, so I want to believe that’s the lie. Final answer.”

I tipped my Styrofoam cup at him to let him know he was three for three. “I’m terrified of roller coasters, even though I can jump out of a plane in pitch black conditions without even thinking about it. And I can dance. Max’s mom taught me. But I can only follow structured steps. Put me in a night club, and it’s a fucking disaster. I’m more the perfect dance floor prom date, than I am a club bunny.”

Ben’s lips twitched, but he still looked vaguely annoyed about Max, so I elaborated.

“I’ve never straight out told Max that I was in love with him. Through deed sure, but never word. I did once let him know with a very… intimate… suggestion, that I wanted us to be together completely. Just us, with no one and… nothing… in the way. But he said he couldn’t.”

God love Ben for being quick, likely due to his former days of paid depravity.

“You wanted to lose the raincoat as that last barrier between the two of you and he said no.” He paused for a long moment before his brows drew together in a harsh downward movement. “Jackass.”

When my brow arched meaningfully, Ben’s wiggled the pointer finger of the hand not holding the coffee, in the air at me. “Technically that doesn’t merit a quarter fine, but considering my private thoughts right now, I will be putting a dollar into the jar as soon as I’m willing to get. Which isn’t now.”

I offered him a slight smile. He was almost bristling with indignation on my behalf, and it was really fucking cute. “I’ve never done it with anyone else. That is a full truth. I never wanted to, because no one else was worth the risk. But Max and I were everything to each other for about an eight month stretch of monogamy. Between that, and the fact we’d take a bullet for one another without any hesitation if we had to, I though taking that one last step together made sense.”

“And it would have, if he was the person you were meant to be with. Someone you could trust and love without any hesitation, because you knew that no matter what normal relationship storms might come, you’d always make it out together on the other side.”

Ben set his coffee down on the table, and I suddenly found myself a lot closer to him when he hooked his foot beneath the rung of my chair, and pulled mine forward with an impressive strength that was also sexy as hell. This close, it was easy for him to reach out and roll his thumb back and forth along my cheek before he leaned forward so our foreheads lightly touched. It was more intimate than having our tongues down one another’s throat’s would’ve been and I felt really exposed sitting in the middle of the halfway house kitchen. We hadn’t seen any kids for a good half hour, and this was probably tame by the standards of what some of them might’ve already been exposed to even this early in their lives, but I still felt raw and too vulnerable for my liking. Before I could shatter the moment though, Ben’s warm breath wafted over my face as he spoke.

“I’ve never done it either, because gloving up was always my one, non-negotiable rule, whether I was working or not.”

“Not even with Charlie?”

Ben shook his head, his skin rubbing lightly across mine. “To be completely honest, the idea never appealed to me.”

“Because of the crud factor?”

His lips curved. The smile was slightly blurred because he was so close to me. “Not just that. I was always safe, and mandatory testing and med-checks were insisted upon by my madam. I guess I just felt that if someone’s most intimate warmth was wrapped around me, pulling me in and hugging me so tight in the most personal and private way possible in the world, I’d pray that it was because they wanted to keep me. It’d be next level trust. Sort of like the scene when Julia Roberts finally kisses Richard Gere for the first time in Pretty Woman.”

“Such a romantic,” I murmured. Which was true. What was also true, was that his description of going bare with someone, was so sensual, my eyes had almost crossed, which was why I’d closed them before he could see how his words were affecting me.

“I wasn’t ready for that with anyone before, or after I stopped working. Not with Charlie, and not with Daniel. But if you want a solid truth that you don’t ever have to question at all, hear me when I tell you, Sam,” he said, moving back even as he slid a hand under my chin to make me open my eyes so I could look into his. “When I finally do break down those ridiculous walls you keep trying to put up between us, I plan to make love to you in every way possible, for as long as it takes until you finally trust me enough to be willing for that to one day be a first for both of us. Together.”

I swallowed thickly as Ben looked me right in the eyes. “Every time I’m around you Sam, I want you so much. All of you. And yes, that includes all the pieces you think are damaged. None of them are deal breakers for me. I still want you so badly, it’d probably be considered an extra monstrous sin by some aging Catholic relic.”

My heart stopped. My lips parted. Ben didn’t look away. He didn’t take it back.

“Are you..” I cleared my throat, just trying to get my breath to fall back into a pattern of normality that wouldn’t leave me light-headed. “Are you serious right now?”

“Yes I am,” he said without hesitation. “ But first I want you to go out with me. On a real date, so we can see what happens when we speak only truths.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that, but I didn’t need to think long because Ben lifted up from his chair just enough to bend over the top so he could catch my mouth in a kiss that was tender, yet deep enough for me to feel his words resonate deep down inside my belly like a satisfied cat in a warm spot.

He finally drew back just enough to speak, his mouth still so close to me that his breath warmed my lips when he whispered, “Think about it, Sam. Preferably in private later, in a place where you’re… a lot more… comfortable with weighing all the reasons why it could be so good between us.”

The suggestive tease left my skin feeling flushed when he sat back down.

“Okay. Yeah. That, um… That sounds good.”

Annnd, we’re back to the dumb-as-shit sounding sentences. Winner, winner, fucking chicken dinner.

“Uh-huh.”

Ben winked as he reclaimed his coffee cup, obviously pleased with himself. He’d probably be even more pleased if he’d known how my lips were still tingling. He’d just laid everything out on the table. The ball was in my court, but I’d been given a free pass to play with said ball later to strategize my next move. The pressure was off. I could breathe. And all I could think was… Oh. My. God, I want this man. Do not let me fuck it up.

I cleared my throat roughly before taking a sip of my coffee. “How many kids are staying here?"

Ben's eyes crinkled with his grin, but he let me get away with the subject change. "Two girls and four boys, including Cayden."

The name rolled around on the peripheral of my memory for a moment. "Is that the kid you told me about? The former marine?"

Ben nodded. His expression turned grim. "He got into it with the same boy again last night. Worked him over pretty good. I’m trying to figure out whether to ask him to leave. Eddie threw Cayden under the bus when we questioned them together and separately, but Cayden refuses to defend himself."

"You can't save everyone, Ben. If he's a bad kid, it might be best if you toss him."

"Cayden's not a bad kid," Ben insisted. "He’s protective of all of the other kids, especially Rebecca and Lourdes. He’s not violent and he wouldn’t act out for no reason. Something's wrong, and I want to know what it is before I write him off. But he won’t talk to me, or to Tara. Can you try? Like I said, you share a certain background and probably some experiences that we can’t begin to relate to. Maybe that will make a difference."

"I'm not qualified to counsel kids, let alone deaf ones. What am I supposed to do? Use hand signals?"

"He's not deaf, Sam. He has full auditory capability in his other ear, and he can read lips. He just chooses to employ the frustrating teenage skill of selective hearing because he’s having trouble coping. I can work with that if I know the source of what’s bothering him. I thought you could help me figure it out, and help him.”

"Because I'm so well adjusted myself."

Ben sighed. I grabbed another glazed donut. I’d regret it later. Between the sugar and the caffeine buzz from the coffee, keeping awake wouldn’t be a problem. I’d given up liquid courage, but a sugar high might work just as well because I doubted I could deny Ben’s plea much longer, and I needed fuel for a conversation with kids.

"All he needs is someone to listen, to talk to. An outlet. That much you can do. Sam...please?"

It was the please that did me in. I sighed around a mouthful of donut. I took a minute to eat the rest, chewed and swallowed, then cleaned my hands properly on a napkin this time. "Should you give him some warning first?"

"If I did he'd probably run." Ben's relieved grin did nothing to reassure me. "It'll be fine. C'mon."

I took my cup of coffee with me, holding it in my left hand as Ben grabbed my right to help me to my feet. Hand in hand, we walked out of the kitchen and through the hallway toward the staircase to the second floor.

"Cayden's room is the second to the left off of the stairs. He’s currently rooming alone, so it'll just be the two of you." Ben's hand let go of mine and moved down my spine encouragingly. "Do you want me to come in with you?"

I shook my head. "Let me see if he'll even open the door. If he doesn't want to talk, I'm not going to push it."

But nodded. “That’s fair.” I got a warm smile and a squeeze to my left shoulder before he headed back to the kitchen.

I exhaled heavily before I headed towards the room Ben had indicated. The floorboards creaked as I walked up. This part of the house hadn’t been as completely remodeled, though the wall on the other side of the staircase was covered with framed photos of kids with Ben and other people, much like the collage at the community center.

There was no answer when I knocked on the correct door, and identified myself. The silence could've been because the kid was partially deaf, or that he just wanted me to go scratch. Going with scenario number one, I pushed open Cayden's door to stand in the doorway.

I immediately recognized Cayden as the lean kid with close cropped rusty hair who’d been in Ben’s support group the other night. He was lying on his belly on his bed, reading what looked like a graphic novel, earbuds in his ears. In blue jeans and a cranberry-colored t-shirt, his feet bare, he looked like any teenage kid just enjoying some down time. Nothing like a former marine who’d gotten badly injured long before he was old enough to legally drown his personal tragedy with booze. Probably a good thing, though I knew from experience that kids could get creative when it came to recreational self-medicating.

He was baby faced enough that he probably didn’t have to shave often, but the look in his brown eyes when they raised to mine, was as jaded as that of men I'd met who were twice his age. It was also about as inviting as a pack of territorial wolves. The quick onceover he gave me acknowledged my entrance, but he didn't speak.

"Can I come in?"

I was glad I didn't expect an answer, because I didn't get one. Scouting a wooden chair with a burgundy and gray striped cushion out from the other end of the room, I dragged it over slowly, giving Cayden the chance to bolt. When he remained put, I dropped into the chair, straddling it like I had downstairs in the kitchen so I could rest my coffee cup on the top of it.

"Hey, Cayden. I'm Sam.”

Again, I got no response. I was beginning to think I'd have better luck communicating with stucco, when Cayden suddenly put his book to the side, then rolled up in a graceful move to a cross-legged position in front of me on the bed, hands loose on his knees. His head tilted slightly to one side, as if he was focusing on the sound of my voice even though he was looking me square in the face. The lights overhead put focus on the small, silver hoop earrings on either side of his nostrils, as well as underneath so it was a freaky looking trio that somehow suited him. He had medium gauges in both ears, and there was enough surprisingly well-done ink visible on both arms, and up the right side of his neck for one to assume that he was either holding onto some secret stash of cash that Ben didn’t know about, or he’d that been very friendly with someone talented at some point. The tats were relatively new, still brightly colored without any of the fading that happened quickly in the Floridian sun unless you took care of them. Cayden obviously did.

“Yeah, I remember you. You came in with Father Ben, then bounced like your ass was on fire.”

An obnoxious observation, but not wrong.

Cayden's voice was too loud for the room, his pronunciation careful but exaggerated from trying to sound like he wasn't having difficulty hearing me. I noticed that he was keeping his gaze fixed on my face when I talked, probably reading my lips as much as he was using his limited auditory range.

I shrugged, my gaze moving over the surroundings that were severe, almost Spartan in their absence of personal effects. There were so many parallels between me and this kid, it was unsettling. Aside from the graphic novel on the bed, and two more that I saw on the small desk in the corner where a burgundy hoodie was tossed over the back of the chair, I didn’t see many signs of him personalizing the space. Cayden might be living here, but he was fully prepared to leave if he was asked to.

“Yeah, that’s me. But today I’m on a very specific mission that I can’t deviate from until it’s accomplished. We’ll call it penance for my occasional stupidity.”

That earned me a suspicious look. “What do you want?”

"Ben seems to think that because we’re both former military, I can figure out why you've been such a punk lately."

Cayden snorted, giving me a derisive look. "I got my reasons."

"I’m sure you do. I can even respect personal choice. But those choices might get you tossed out on your ass. That would hurt Ben’s heart, so you might want to reconsider how important keeping your crap to yourself is worth."

I got another hostile look, but Cayden was really looking at me now, listening, not just giving me lip service as he wrote me off.

"Former military…so what are you now?"

“At this moment? Just a guy trying to help Ben by talking to you. He’s seriously worried about you, kid.”

“And you’re worried about him right? Because you came into the group holding his hand. So… what? You two are a thing?”

“The answer to that is complicated at best right now.”

“Unless you’re married, it probably really isn’t.”

I snorted. “You’d be surprised. Relationships aren’t my forte.”

“Neither is the shrinky social worker thing so I hope that’s not where you’re going with this.”

I laughed out loud. Little shit.

"Absolutely fucking not."

"So, you're not here to convince me that the sun will shine out my ass tomorrow?"

My smile came easy as I shook my head. "It’s not my thing to lie to kids. Like I said, I’m here because Ben cares about you and feels like his hands are tied because you keep getting into fights with that one kid. Don’t give him an ulcer by making him kick you out of here, man. A lot of things between him and I might be complicated, but one thing I’m sure about is that I don’t like to see him upset. An unhappy Ben is like a crime against the universe.”

Caden was quiet for a long time, processing my words. In that moment, I realized that even though he was packed and ready to go if he had to leave, it wasn’t what he wanted.

“Father Ben wouldn't kick me out." Cayden's tone was cocky, but his eyes gave away his uncertainty.

"I'll admit not to knowing him that well, but I don't think he's a man that bluffs. You put his back against a wall when you beat up that kid."

"Eddie's an asshole. He deserved more than a punch to the mouth for what he said about Father Ben."

That got my attention. "What did he say?"

Cayden's expression turned wary, his body language tense.

"It's okay, "I said to reassure him. "If this kid is biting the hand that feeds him, by all means consider me the bus to throw him under, and tell me when to back it up."

After a reluctant silence, Cayden spoke up. "He said I'd better watch myself in the showers, because I’m Father Ben’s type.”

My left eyebrow cocked and held. “How’s that now?”

Cayden snorted again. “Need me to spell it out for you?”

“Yeah, please do because I’m getting old. Humor my aging mind.”

The small twitch of Cayden’s lips was miles from a smile, but at least it wasn’t another snort.

“Fine. Father Ben’s a gay priest. I’m a street kid who could easily suck him, or any guy off through 50 ft of PVC pipe if I felt like it. Since I’m technically legal because I’ll be twenty in three months, you do Eddie’s pervert math.”

I pressed my tongue hard against the inside of my upper teeth, then slid it to the back of my lower teeth. Fucking kids. Cayden was right. Eddie deserved to get his teeth knocked out. Words like that were rude and hurtful to Cayden, who obviously looked up to Ben, but a rumor like that could also destroy Ben. Eddie was going to have to move the fuck along elsewhere.

“Well, I happen to know that Ben’s got his sight set on someone else who might be able to attempt the same thing. Not sure it’s achievable, but we all need to learn something new daily.”

This time, Cayden arched his own eyebrow, the right one, bringing my attention to the hoop ring in it. For fucks sake, this kid was a walking advertisement for the 1960s to late 1980s TV commercials stressing the need to know where your children were when it was 10:00 o’clock at night.

He swept me with an assessing look. "So, you and him are a thing."

"We're…. Trying to figure the complicated parts out.”

"So, you're into him."

“Yeah,” I said. “I am. He’s a good man.”

“Are you?”

I shrugged. “Honestly?

Cayden nodded. “I have a very refined fucking palette, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t feed me bullshit.”

Christ, this kid reminded me of myself at his age. Not enough sense to know when to muzzle his damn mouth. Though even if he had had the sense God gave little apples, his balls were too big for him to manage tact.

“Depends on who you ask, but I try to be.”

That answer got me a look close enough to respect, to make the light nod Cayden offered me, actually mean something.

“You said you were in the military?’

“Yeah. I’m recently retired.”

“What branch?”

“Army.”

“Hooah,” he said, then paused as he swept me with another assessing look, this one longer and slower; almost the kind of look that I’d been the recipient of a few times, though those men didn’t need a fake ID to get into a bar. If that look had been because Cayden was checking out my abs and approving of both them and my winning personality, I’d have been as flattered as I could be considering he was a kid only a couple of years older than Adelyn. Which was to say, the icky feeling would’ve been real. I had a mental cut off at more than a 10-year age difference at max, whether the person was older or younger than me. Thankfully, I suspected there was more to that look than wanting a queer Mrs. Robinson moment. I was proven right when Cayden spoke again.

“What part?”

“The 75^th,” I said, not even batting an eyelash because it wasn’t really a lie. I had been part of the 75^th. Just not for the last 6 years. Unlike Ben, the kid didn’t need an exact timeline.

“How long were you in?”

Another not-quite-a-lie slid off my tongue. Almost sixteen years.” He hadn’t asked if I’d been a Ranger the entire time. He could assume his own details the way most people did.

“Makes sense. You’re not built like basic infantry, or a pencil pushing officer.”

“Don’t check me out, kid,” I groused. “It’s fucking weird. I have a niece around your age.”

Cayden snorted scornfully. “I’m not into old balls, dude. But I’ve got eyes and Father Ben’s been good to me, which means a guy who’s hot, stacked, and probably saw some serious, rough and raw shit in sixteen years could be a potential problem for him.”

“So could a kid with so much metal in his face he probably sets off detectors all the time. I’m choosing not to judge you by the outside packaging, so maybe a little quid pro quo, and a little less of the snarky mean girl, high-school bullshit can happen?”

Cayden stared me down, completely stone-faced. I expected more belligerence, not the sudden wide grin that made him look like what he was- a really fucked up kid who needed a second chance.

“The ink usually gets me profiled and searched even before I make it to the metal detectors.” He paused, serious again. “I mean it though. Father Ben’s a good guy. Don’t hurt him or I’ll have to attempt to kill you, and probably end up being taken out myself.”

I managed to bite back my smile. “That’s fair. I don’t intend to hurt Ben in any way. I meant it when I said he’s probably the best man I know. I can appreciate that rarity for what it is, and it makes me want to be a better man.”

“Fuck dude, you literally just went from, ‘this guy is kinda cool to, Jesus Fucking Christ, he’s actually a chick.’ FYI an, ‘I won’t, Cayden,’ would’ve worked just fine.”

His smile was all self-satisfied smartass. I laughed. "Good thing you’re gay. Talking like that around girls would mean it’d be you all alone with your favorite hand every Friday and Saturday night. My niece, Adelyn, would skin you alive if you referred to her as a 'chick' where she could hear you.”

Cayden smirked. “I know who Addie is. She’s cool. She comes to the youth group here. Sometimes she asks me about playing guitar. I can’t play anymore ‘cause… well, doh,” he said, gesturing to his own ears. “But she’s really good. She writes her own songs. Sings them too. She told me I should try learning to play drums, or something with heavy percussion so I can feel the vibrations, and keep beat and time easier. Haven’t decided though.”

“She’s a smart kid when she’s not being a smart-ass who drains a little bit of my soul daily.”

Cayden grinned, apparently delighted by my suffering. “If she was a dude, I’d ask her out.”

“If she was a dude, you’d be a dead man. But friends are always good to have and you both need one. Addie won't talk to me or her mom. Maybe she'll open up to you. Do one thing for me and I promise you, Eddie goes, and you stay.”

He side-eyed me. “What do you want me to do?”

“Something really easy.” I took a sip of my now cold coffee. "Have her back. That means keeping her away from the knucklehead she’s currently into, and any other future YDAFOC interlopers that might come sniffing around.”

Cayden grinned. “I can do that. Like I said, she’s cool.”

“Excellent. As an extra sweetener to the pot, if you don’t do anything else to cause Ben grief since I can tell you care about his opinion of you, maybe we can figure out some drum lessons for you. I’ll pay half. You pay the rest since Ben said older kids out of school have part-time jobs while they’re here.”

Cayden’s smile slipped, and he just stared at me for a long moment. His voice sounded unsure, and young enough to make me feel ancient when he said, “Why would you do that for me?”

“Because I see through all your posturing and bullshit. I was you at your age. Maybe I’d have turned out a little less fucked up if I’d had a creative outlet, and a few more good people in my corner. The ones I did, and still do have, helped keep me from completely losing my shit. People like Ben and Tara, they’re trying to give that same sense of family to you. Try letting them in.”

Pot, meet my friend kettle, my conscience said. I ignored it.

"Maybe tolerate me too once in a while so we can talk, and I can tell you about all the stupid shit you shouldn’t do because you’ll always get caught.”

Cayden’s lips twitched. I shrugged. “It’s not an instant fix, but it’s a chance if you want it.’

I got another long stare, then a slight nod. “That’d be cool… I... I can do that. All of it, I mean. Thanks, Sam.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll go talk to Ben now.”

“Ok. Sam?”

Cayden’s voice stopped me at the door. I turned to look back at him over my shoulder. “Hmm?”

“What’s YDAFOC stand for?”

“The inner secret wiring of all teenage boys; Young, dumb, and full of cum.”

Cayden burst into laughter. The young and unburdened sound put the nail in Eddie’s coffin. This punky, smart-mouthed kid was going to get his goddamned second chance.

When Cayden raised his hand to salute, I saluted back.

Ben was sitting on the middle of the staircase when I came out of Cayden's room. I sat on the step above his and gave him the condensed version. By the time I was finished, the little vein at the corner of his left temple looked ready to explode.

"I knew it had to be Eddie starting it," he said, looking up at the steps above us. "He's rubbed me the wrong way since day one, but I've never caught him in the act, and Cayden wouldn't talk to me."

"If it makes you feel better, the kid didn't want to tell me either."

"But he did. Thank you, Sam."

I shrugged, uncomfortable with the praise. "It's not a big deal. You were right. He's not a bad kid, just having a tough time. The other one needs to go. He has the kind of mouth that could cause trouble for you and the other kids."

Ben didn’t ask me to elaborate. “I’ll start the paperwork to get him transferred to another facility so he’s not back out on the street.” He paused, then brushed his fingertips over my knee.

"Maybe you can make this a regular thing? Come and hang out with the kids? We're always looking for volunteers."

It was on the tip of my tongue to say no, but for some reason I found myself offering a short nod. "I told Cayden I’m available if he ever needs to talk, so yeah, I can do that. Maybe after I get settled in at Tara's."

Ben's eyes narrowed in curiosity. "You're staying with Tara?"

"We talked about me renting her basement apartment this morning during our run. I think giving Sofia and the girls some breathing room might reduce some of the strain at the house."

"Or it could cause more. I can tell you Sofia won't be thrilled."

"I know, but Tara lives close by. It's not like I'm going back to the military.”

"How are you feeling about that?"

I considered the question before answering. Whenever I'd been deployed all over the world, a part of me had always harbored a secret fear that even if I survived the missions, I'd never be able to leave my experiences behind me. Like the constant adrenaline fest would leave me marked, craving the chaos like a junkie in need of his fix. My edge was all that kept me alive when I was out in the field. But being home was changing that. Now that I knew there was no going back, I was trying to accept my new normal.

Despite the recurring nightmares, things were slowly getting a little better. I could feel the difference in the way I allowed my body to relax; held my jaw less rigid. I no longer made immediate moves toward an invisible gun when I was startled. I was learning to cope, and each day got a little easier. Having A.J. close helped, but so did the army of Emma’s Beanie Babies on my bed, and Sofia’s Post-It note signed with smiley faces when she left me a to-do list. Even Adelyn’s constant scowls helped remind me of where I was, and what I had to fight for here on my home turf, not some distant land over the seas.

"I’m doing better. This today… you and me I mean, it was good. Though I should probably get going. I promised Emma we'd do lunch today. Grilled cheese sandwiches and pink lemonade."

"You're good with her." Ben smiled and got up when I did to walk me out to the porch.

"One day I hope I can say the same about Addie, though she only flips me off now when she thinks I’m not looking."

"Progress,” Ben agreed with a grin. “She'll come around. In the meantime, enjoy being the adored object of the world’s most adorable seven-year-old's.

"Split adoration," I corrected. "She recently told me I'm just one of her five best friends, you being among that elite group. Though she did assure me I could share you."

"Oh? Are we talking 50/50 splits or do I get to choose who I want to stay with longer?"

Ben's smile was addictive. I ducked my head before mine could grow to the point it couldn't be hidden. "I'm sure you'd have more fun playing with Emma than me."

"That's extremely debatable. Context plays a major factor."

I wasn't sure how to respond to such blatant teasing. I could flirt when I didn’t think too hard, and just threw caution to the wind on an impulse. But the back and forth when I didn’t already have at least one good line ready to go, yeah, I was bad at that shit.

My ears heated. Nerves made me fumble for the pack of cigarettes in my back pocket. I needed something to put into my mouth to stall. The cigarette was too small to be overtly phallic, so I could have my distraction without my cock getting any bright fantasy land ideas.

"What are you talking about?"

"Do I need to spell it out for you again?" Ben's expression was an open challenge when he leaned into my personal space. He flicked my ear. Hard.

"Hey!" While I howled a protest, Ben snatched the unlit cigarette from my hand, then tossed it over the edge of the porch.

"I like you and want to get to know you better," Ben said. He crossed his arms over his chest. "To help that happen, you need to stick around and not pollute your body and soul with garbage. You stopped with the booze, so now it’s time to put down the cigarettes and talk to me when you need an outlet."

"Are you crazy?"

"Insane in the membrane. But I just saved you from potential lung cancer, so I'd say you now owe me coffee, dinner and definitely dessert. Maybe we can even start with dessert and work our way backward if you’re a good boy."

Holy fuck.

I ignored my dick’s sudden eager collaboration with my brain as it kept up a steady mantra of, ‘be good, be good, be good,’ while I rubbed my stinging ear. "You couldn't just say that?"

"I figured a little show and tell would add to my declaration of intent. Come on, Sam. I know you're interested."

“Lack of interest isn’t our issue, Ben.”

“So, tell me what you think it is, beside a friends-with-benefits relationship that’s truly a non-issue. Max isn’t here, and I fully intend to make sure that when he does finally show up, the only exclamation marks to ever follow his name from your lips will be ones of surprise, or platonic affection. Your moans will be mine. So will the screams.”

My mouth went dry because Holy. Fucking. Hell. My words sounded rough to my own ears, a complete contrast to his own words which I could almost feel along my skin, like the embrace of heated velvet.

“Ben… It’s too soon for us to feel anything real for each other. This just seems… fast.”

“And what’s wrong with that? Life is short, Sam. You of all people know how true that is. We never know when our last day on this earth is, so living each one like we’re dying tomorrow is the best way to honor the lives He’s given us. We aren’t kids, and we both know what we have between us was never going to be a onetime, random hookup. We were brought together because someone much, much wiser than us, knows exactly how good we will be together if you stop trying to fix what doesn’t need mending, and relinquish control for once so you can just let go."

My brain stopped communicating with my lips when I found myself trapped between the rail of the wraparound porch and Ben's body. I hadn’t realized I’d been moving backward in retreat until my spine collided against the railing. Ben stepped close enough to block the sun’s touch from my face. His own was backlit by the sun, intensely focused, and almost inhumanly beautiful despite the damn ears. He looked like an avenging angel, and I stopped breathing for a moment.

"And... A. Guy. Like. Me?" he said, repeating my earlier statement. Each word was so carefully clipped, they were as visceral as hard tugs to my dick would’ve felt from one of his long fingered, capable hands.

Shiiiiiiit.

"Yeah..." FUCK. "...a good guy."

He grinned, but didn't budge. "Most people consider that a positive trait."

He was right. Most people would cream their drawers to be with a man like Ben made even the classic good guy look like an asshole. I just didn't have a good track record with nice guys.

"I have to go."

"Emma can wait for a few more minutes. I’ll order a crate of assorted sprinkles from Amazon for her once we’re finished here.”

There was nowhere for me to run when Ben stepped even closer, putting us a breath apart. One hand splayed on the column beside my head, boxing me in. I waited for panic, or maybe belligerent defiance against being trapped to well up in me, but instead, I was hard as a rock. Completely and willingly at his mercy, just like I’d been in Maplewood’s kitchen earlier. I’d wanted him to push the issue before. Now he’d thrown down the fucking gauntlet. I just still wasn’t sold that I deserved this yet.

"If you want me to back off, Sam, say the words straight up, and I'll drop it," Ben said. He leaned in close enough that I felt the cinnamon on his breath heating my face. "But don't crown me a saint just to avoid this thing between us. Every time we’re together, I feel the connection between us, and I know you feel it too. Just stop with the BS, and let me show you with word and deed, just how good we can be."

Not since I'd first enlisted had anyone put me in my place with such ease. Not since I was a kid, had I felt this comforted by words alone. Those had come from Vera Melone when she’d told me that Connor and I were moving in with them, and never had to go back to our father’s abusive hell. That had been a relieved, safe warmth. The heat Ben’s words were inspiring, felt electric. Exciting. Erotic. Yet no less safe.

Ben swept me with an assessing look. "You don't want me to back off, do you?" he murmured. My dick forgot to be indignant as it tattooed itself with my zipper. I inhaled short and sharp. Ben noticed at once.

"You were saying something about guys like me?" His smile dared me to repeat myself, but my throat had gone dry. So parched, not even raspy words were possible. Instead of opening my mouth and shattering the moment with more stupid, transparently dumb reasons to opt out of this, I nodded ever so slightly at him. Green light means GO.

When Ben's head dipped, I was waiting for him. My arms slid around his waist to bring him even closer when he pulled me into his body. I kissed him like I'd wanted to at the group the other night, when I’d panicked, yet known deep down, that had it been him with me at the diner, my anxiety would’ve dropped in half of the time. Tara could end up being one of my best friends, but Ben, God he could end up being so much more.

I felt Ben smile against my skin when I turned my head to nip at the warm bare skin of his throat. He smelled warm and inviting; slightly of coffee and cinnamon, with a touch of vanilla. As comforting as the candle Sofia had in the kitchen. The company had branded it as ‘the scent of home.’ I thought it’d been stupid at the time, but it didn’t seem so foolish anymore.

"Come over to my place tonight," Ben murmured.

I could feel my self-control weakening. "You want more than one night.”

“Of course I do.”

“What if I can’t do that?”

“You won’t know until you try. And believe me, after you’ve come as many times as I have planned for you, you’ll be much more open to the idea because you’ll be too tired to run.”

Damn.

"Well, hello!"

Ben and I broke apart like guilty children when we heard Tara's voice. He recovered faster, grinning at Tara where she stood at the base of the steps with one hand over her eyes, openly peeking through her fingers.

"Next time, warn a girl. Sam, I'm surprised you're still here." The smug note in her voice said otherwise.

I cleared my throat, rubbing my hand over the back of my neck to draw her attention upward with the movement, because there was nothing I could do about the tented fabric situation of my shorts. "I was just heading out."

"Of course you were," she said sweetly. "But since you're here now, I'll give you the extra set of keys to my place."

She made the toss and I caught them in mid-air, already making my way down the steps past her.

"And, Sam?"

I turned back in time to hear her say, "I can see you like to hang to the left, but it's a right to the house."