Alarm swarmed my chest. “What? I didn’t know about that.”
“I did it the last time I saw you before you left. I’m sure I told you—she asked me to stop in and talk with her that last night before you went to LA. That was it. And I was so distracted, I didn’t think twice about it. But after… it felt like another piece to the puzzle I’d chosen to lose.”
He watched me closely, as though I’d betray another lie with body language.
“She never spoke with me about it, but I can assure you I will be speaking to her.” My voice was calm, sure, with nothing to hide.
“I believe you,” he said, and a sprig of hope, of possibility, bloomed.
“Good,” I said, giving in to the step closer I’d been wanting to take.
I put my hands at his waist, stopping short of outright groping his sturdy sides. Getting to touch him was both a relief and a kind of torture.
“Do you really love me?” he asked, his voice gentle, eyes searching.
“Yes.” The one word rang ardent.
A whisper of a smile crossed his gorgeous lips. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“I’ve never told anyone that—I really don’t think I’ve ever said it to anyone, but certainly not a man. It was never going to be easy for me.”
He’d slowly lowered his head so our faces were close. We were speaking lightly, softly, sharing space, breath.
“Will you tell me now?” he asked, his lips grazing my ear.
I shivered, almost laughed at the pleasure of it. “I love you, Ben.”
He pulled back, a contrast of hunger and elation on his face. “I love you, Whit.”
Finally, finally, our lips met, and the relief of that contact, of that seal on the moment, was immeasurable.
“I missed you. So much. Too much,” he said between kisses, stepping closer, pulling me closer, everything in us working to get closer.
“Me too. I’ve been a mess,” I replied, breathless and ravenous.
A few more quick, searing kisses, and he pulled back. “What do we do now?”
I chuckled, relieved at his next question. “Honestly? I have no idea.”
EPILOGUE
Three years later
Ben
“What I experienced is something many men and women experience in combat. The loss, the fear, the pain, the depression, and the sense that there is no way to feel whole again. This organization is something dear to me because it, along with many other resources, has helped show that there is hope, there is wholeness, beyond the moments of pain. Thank you for joining us tonight.”
Applause sounded in the ballroom, the wealth of Nashville’s elite and much of Hollywood dotting the tables. Better yet, many of my old Rambler Battalion friends and leaders had shown up—my old company commander, Luke Waterford, and my first sergeant, now master sergeant, Harrison. And of course, Prince Charming himself, LTC Reese Flint. Thatcher was overseas but had sent his best, of course.
I walked off stage, grinning to myself at what a strange thing it was for me to be the one on stage. But we’d worked for this for three years now, and this was a moment I’d never forget.
“You were perfect,” Whit said, looking painfully gorgeous in a long silk dress in a color that somehow matched those blue-green eyes.
“You are perfect,” I said, placing one hand at her back, and running the other over the swell of her belly. “This is surreal.”
“Finally seeing this come to life? You’ve worked so hard, and I’m so, so proud of you.” She pulled me to her and hugged me close.
I’d worked on this project for almost two years. When I left the Army, I enrolled in a Master of Social Work program. Through that, I began working with some colleagues and Whit, and in the end, we partnered with an organization that gave men and women dealing with PTSD and depression a creative outlet to expand its reach tremendously.
Funny enough, it was one of the organizations I’d looked at with my therapist while recovering in the early weeks. I was happy to be working for them now, bringing my perspective and frankly, Whit’s fame, to their table. Their budget for the year would be fully funded by the end of the night.
“Yes. That. Feeling like I’ve found my purpose for work—” I glanced back at the stage, “—and I’m glad I managed to talk you into marrying me, and having my baby, and making me the happiest sap on the planet.”
“I love you, Ben Holder.”
“I love you.”
