by Ann, Natalie
There would always be obstacles in their way until they both came clean. Unfortunately, she wasn’t sure she could ever come clean with her past. Not the complete truth of it all. Some things were just too hard to share with anyone.
***
Ben had a feeling that Presley wasn’t going to show up at his house. He wasn’t even sure why he made the offer. Well, he knew why. He wanted to spend another night with her, be with her, hold her tight, and feel the comfort of her body next to his.
The two nights a week they saw each other outside of work didn’t seem to be enough. This week was the first he actually spent the night at her house when he had to work the next day. Before that, they had only been spending Saturday nights together.
When she asked him this morning if he existed, he froze for a second, stood still and held his breath, trying to school his features. He had trained hard for years to blend in, not be seen, and not exist, so to speak.
It bothered him more than he cared to admit that she thought that or felt all those things he’d tried to erase. He was trying so damn hard to shed those parts of his past, parts that he needed to shed in order to move on. Parts he didn’t want the people closest to him to know about.
Under it all, he was afraid he hurt her, regardless of the fact he thought he was being considerate by not waking her when he left this morning. It had been early, and she looked so peaceful sleeping, something he never seemed to manage. Sleeping peacefully.
Now he knew, though. So he would let her know when he was leaving if she was still asleep. It wasn’t too much to ask, and she never asked him for anything.
This morning, when he opened the bedside drawer to take his gun out, he reached in further than normal, and his hand brushed against cold metal. The week prior, he had looked in the drawer, not being nosy, but wanting to make sure it was safe to store his gun in there on nights he was at her house. He knew she was uneasy around it, so he liked to tuck it away without her seeing it.
The drawer had looked satisfactory to him back then, just a few pieces of paper, and a book. Nothing major. Except this morning when he reached in, there was more, something thick and metal. Curious, he quickly pulled it out, leaned over the bed, picked up his phone and lit it up so he could see what he was holding.
It was a picture frame, double sided and closed. When he opened it, he saw a family photo. A younger version of Presley standing next to what looked to be an older brother and her parents.
She had never mentioned having a sibling, never even talked about her parents for that matter. Nothing more than that they weren’t around. All he knew was that she had been on her own since she was eighteen.
His first instinct was to run a background check on her when he got home from work today. But he didn’t. He was going to hold off and hope maybe she would come to him with anything. He only wanted to make sure she wasn’t in any kind of trouble, wasn’t running from the law or hiding from someone.
He just needed to know, needed to know so he could prepare to protect her if need be. But nothing indicated any signs of her hiding or being scared, so he brushed that aside and told himself not to overreact. He wasn’t living that life anymore, the life where he had to look at every angle to see what might be lurking in the dark.
He was a good judge of people and went with his gut. Whatever it was Presley was hiding, he was sure it was more personal or emotional, rather than illegal.
And because he had his own demons right now, he wasn’t going to search for hers. But he would soon, because he wanted to know. Wanted to know what made her tick.
She was fascinating to him. Everything about her. Her strength and independence was admirable—and sexy as hell. She was confident, knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to ask. Or take. And she wasn’t afraid of him. That was important.
Too many women in his past loved how dangerous he was, how dangerous he came across, but they were still scared of him deep down. He didn’t want that, and never had.
Presley may have had secrets, but being scared of him wasn’t one of them.
***
The next night, Friday, after Presley’s shift, without thought, she found her car heading toward Ben’s house. She didn’t even care that it was close to midnight and that he might be asleep and not expecting her. Shaking her head, she doubted it. It seemed he never slept.
He had never said a word about her going home after her shift yesterday, and neither did she. She appreciated that, appreciated that he had made the offer and then never brought it up again. It took the pressure off, and that suited her.
But right now, she needed to see him, and it scared her. Normally after a day like she had today, she would go home and cry in the quiet of her own home. Get it all out of her system, purge out the emotions of the day, and go in fresh the next shift. Thankfully she didn’t need to go in tomorrow, and having the day off would help.
Regardless, she still needed to get everything bottled up out. From past experience, if she held it in too much or too long, she was useless to the kids. They needed her to be there one hundred and ten percent for their care. Her own fears and clouded emotions could affect her job, and she wouldn’t allow that to happen.
Not for her and definitely not for those she cared for. They needed her, depended on her, and she needed to feel wanted and depended on. She knew nothing else, no other way. Her entire life, even as a child, someone had relied on or depended on her. She had no one she could lean on.
Today was rough though, rougher than she thought it would be. Even though she had prepared herself for it, preparing and seeing were two different things.
So here she was driving to Ben’s house. Why, she really didn’t know. She only knew she couldn’t be alone.
She turned down his street and saw most of the houses were dark. Slowing down to a crawl in front of his driveway, she noticed all the lights on the first floor were off. The upstairs looked just as dark, though she noticed a flicker of light in his bedroom, probably the TV. Second-guessing herself, she hit the gas and drove by, only to end up circling the block and coming around in front of his house again.
This time she pulled to the curb, put the car in park and sat there with the engine running, the heat on, just thinking. Trying to decide what the next step would be.
After a few minutes and several deep breaths, she made the decision to drive back home. Before she could put the car in drive, her phone went off. Reaching over, she pulled it out of her purse, looked at the screen and read. What are you waiting for?
With a start, she turned to look at the front porch and saw Ben standing in the doorway behind the glass screen door, wearing sweats and a T-shirt, watching her sit in the car.
Shoving the phone back in her purse, she put the car in drive, pulled into his driveway, shut the engine off and made her way to his front door. Wordlessly he held the door open, then shut it behind her, took one look at her and pulled her into his arms, holding her tight.
The tears started to flow. Helpless to control them at all, she just let them pour out like a waterfall rushing over the cliff. He ran his hand down the back of her head, over her back, and then up again. “What’s wrong? What happened?” he asked, trying to mask the distress in his voice, regardless of the tension in his body.
“Sarah,” she said with a hiccup, then sucked in another breath.
He pushed her back fast, searching into her eyes fearfully. “She didn’t…”
“No,” Presley rushed out. “But she isn’t doing well. The treatments are hitting her hard. I knew they would, we all did, but today was bad, the worst day yet.” Today was the fifth day of her new treatment plan. The drugs were slowly trying to kill the rare cancer in her body, but in doing so, made her weaker than she ever had been. Watching Sarah struggle to sit up in bed—and even then it was only to lean over the side to throw up—was too much for Presley to bear.
Lots of children had passed through the hospital in the years since she’d worked there, but no one had to
uched her as much as Sarah, and Presley wasn’t sure why. She only knew Sarah held her heart, strong and firm, and suspected Sarah had a place in Ben’s as well.
“Come on, let’s get you to bed.” He pulled her coat off and tossed it over the staircase banner, then led her up the stairs to his room. Slowly undressing her with care—as he would an infant—he discarded her scrubs, then pulled one of his old Navy T-shirts over her head.
When he tried to urge her to bed, she shook her head and walked into the bathroom, brushed her teeth after finding an unopened spare in his cabinet, then finished up and walked back out to find him already lying down.
He tossed the covers back and scooted over for her to climb in next to him. She noticed he had already undressed and was only wearing a pair of boxers now, but was too exhausted in mind and body to even appreciate it. Pulling her over, he tucked her back up against his stomach, with his arm resting over her. Kissing her shoulder softly, he said, “Just let it out, Presley. You don’t always have to fight it.”
It was all he needed to say, and the dam broke. Sobbing uncontrollably in his bed, her body shaking, she trembled with fear and grief. His arm around her, his warm breath on her neck comforting her, she realized she had let a part of herself go to him that she never had to anyone else before.
Balance the Scales
Slipping out of bed quickly, Ben made his way to the doorway. He stopped and turned, looked at Presley sleeping soundly, hesitated just a moment, then walked on. He wasn’t leaving the house, so there was no need to wake her. She needed her sleep. And he needed to run.
Run away from the fear that clawed deep inside of him when Presley walked up his front stairs last night. Her face had been ghostly white, hollow looking, almost translucent. Her eyes, bright red, filled with unshed tears, and her hands were shaking uncontrollably. He wanted to shield her from whatever hurt she felt, whatever pain was streaming through her.
When she had sobbed out Sarah’s name, he thought surely his knees were going to buckle. Fear, a monstrous fear he’d never experienced before overwhelmed him, threatening to pull him under to that abyss he was already struggling to climb out of.
Going into missions, he knew the stakes, so did his men. They knew what they signed up for, the dangers, and the risks. Fear for his men, fear for his body, even his own life, never seized him as much as the fear of hearing Sarah might have passed away last night.
Sarah. She reminded him of Kaitlin. Small, feisty and always willing to fight, never shrinking back from anything, tackling it full-on.
Sarah hadn’t signed up for the fight she was battling. She didn’t know what lay ahead of her, or the risks her body was taking trying to beat the starving demon inside of her. But she fought on anyway. Forced her way through it, because she knew no other way.
The similarities between Sarah and his sister forced a unique bond for Ben. A bond that had him promising Petty Officer Johnson he would send him tabs on his baby sister. Nothing major, nothing serious, just little notes that she was fighting with everything she had. That she smiled that day, or she ate some dessert and talked about going back to school. Happy things, things that would help Ethan through while he was so many miles away.
But when Ben had checked in on Sarah yesterday, he couldn’t bring himself to send a message to Ethan. Couldn’t bring himself to even walk forward and talk to her. She wouldn’t have wanted him to, anyway. So he had walked back out of her room without her the wiser. She had been resting with her eyes shut, and he let her sleep, knowing she needed to get some of her strength back.
Throwing shorts on, he made his way to his gym. Lacing up his sneakers, then jumping on the treadmill. Starting off at a slow pace, he thought of Presley. She was a fighter too. He often wondered how she did her job, how she made it through seeing what she saw day in and day out. Now he knew—she wasn’t as strong as she wanted everyone to believe, and he was glad he was the one to see that side of her.
His eyes itched, then burned, sweat dripping in them, or so he tried to convince himself. Running at a faster pace now, he needed to purge his body of the emotions building inside. He didn’t want to feel grief, and didn’t want to feel any type of sadness or sympathy for anyone. Not a child, not Presley, and least of all himself.
Because he wasn’t as strong as everyone thought he was either. Only there was no one he could let in on that secret.
***
“Legs apart,” Ben instructed, placing his hands on her hips and shifting her legs just right. “Arms taut, but not tense, aim straight ahead. Steady now.” But it didn’t matter—she was shaking and there seemed to be no help for it.
He had finished his run hours earlier, physically exhausted but still edgy. He needed to do more, needed to release the turmoil left inside of him that the run failed to purge.
And he needed to help Presley do the same. She needed another outlet for her fears. A fear she could conquer, not one she couldn’t. She had no control over Sarah right now, no control of that situation. He knew from personal experience that having no control over a fear only made matters worse, only let it build and build until it was all consuming. So he wanted her to redirect that fear to something else, something she could control.
When he suggested the firing range today, her face turned white, as white as it was when she walked to his front door last night. He was ready to take the offer back, but she beat him to the punch, agreeing. “Sure. If you think you have the patience for it.”
After a quick breakfast and shower, he drove her to the range. He had never once, ever, let another person touch his weapon. Not even Trent. But for the first time someone else was going to be firing one of his guns.
Maybe. Right now she was only holding it and showing no signs of being able to pull the trigger.
“I can’t stop the shaking. I’m sorry.” She lowered her hands and turned her head to look at him. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.”
He stepped behind her, raised her arms back up, reached around her and placed his hands over hers, holding her steady. “You can do it. You’ve got to control it, take charge of your fear.” He moved in closer with his chest against her back, trying to ease her. “I’m right here. Just do it. Pull the trigger. Don’t think, just react.” He removed one hand and replaced her headphones to block out the noise.
She was still shaking, he could feel the slight tremors in her arms, but she inhaled deeply, gripped the gun tighter under his own hands and pulled the trigger. Her body jerked back lightly against his, but he cushioned her, helping her keep her balance. Before he could congratulate her, she emptied the clip completely, clicking the only sound to be heard through his earplugs, her finger still pressing the trigger, trying to fire again and again.
He dropped his hands, took the gun out of her hand, pulled out the empty clip and placed it on the table next to them, along with the gun. Presley pulled off her own headphones and turned to look at him.
Tears filled her eyes, her face was whiter than it was moments earlier and her breath was panting out fast and furious. But she fought through it all and forced a smile. “I did it.”
“You did. You did great.” He didn’t know where her fear came from, but it obviously was deep, deeper than he could possibly understand right now. He was proud of her, and proud to call her his.
His. He closed his eyes briefly, getting a grip on the emotions traveling through him. Never, in all his life, had he had a woman—outside of family—that he could call his.
He wanted to fight it, and wanted to deny it, but part of him couldn’t. Instead he embraced it, all the while embracing her, holding her tight in his arms, running his hands up and down her back, soothing her as much as he was soothing himself.
Suddenly, the desire to balance the scales was overwhelming. She let go of a fear today, put her trust in his hands, and gave a part of herself he had a feeling she hadn’t given to anyone else before.
Stepping back, she placed a hand on his unshaven cheek. He leaned into h
er touch and watched her eyes soften, searching into the depth of his. The confession just rolled off his lips. “I can’t sleep. No more than snatches here and there. Not anymore, and not for a long time.” Her eyes widened, but he pushed on. “But when I’m with you at night, I can sleep.”
***
Later that night, Presley watched Ben sleeping. At least she thought he was. His breathing was nice and steady, his body so still and relaxed. For once, she couldn’t sleep.
Today had been an emotional rollercoaster. Not just today, but rather, the last twenty-four hours. Completely drained when her shift ended yesterday, she really had no thoughts other than seeking Ben out. She didn’t regret it, even though at the time she thought she might.
When he held her last night and soothed her, he didn’t try to get rid of her fears, not at all, and he didn’t try to tell her she was crazy, or that she needed to let go of things she couldn’t control. He didn’t speak to her at all, didn’t even try to convince her to feel something else, nothing. He just held her tight, comforting her. Nothing more than that. It was exactly what she needed.
She fell asleep with his arm around her, holding her tight, keeping her safe and secure. For a moment in time, her fears drifted away.
Unfortunately, all her fears and insecurities came rushing back when she woke the next morning. Alone. Not that she expected anything different. By now, she knew he was working out. Rather than getting dressed and trying to find him, she rolled back over, grabbed his pillow, held on tight, and let more tears fall.
Wrung dry, she crawled out of bed and made her way into the shower, then down to the kitchen to make breakfast for him. Perfect timing, she was placing eggs and bacon on the table when he walked down from his shower looking sexy, wearing only a pair of long athletic shorts hanging low on his hips, showcasing his magnificent abs.
The sight of him standing there started to give her ideas, ideas of grabbing his hand and pulling him back up the stairs and throwing him on the bed. Only before she could, he mentioned going to the firing range. It took everything she had not to shake her head frantically.
