Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
“Gotta keep you sharp.” The LT’s laugh rumbled like a freight train.
“Too bad Horvat won’t be able to join us.” Ben kept his voice light, careful to use Maddox’s last name. It was getting harder to separate the disparate parts of their relationship, and he wasn’t able to unpack whether it was Ben-the-SEAL who would miss Maddox while he was training or Ben-the-boyfriend.
“Yeah, I figured you’d be down about that.” The LT sighed and leaned against a shelf, an uncharacteristically casual gesture from the man. “But since he decided to play out his leave, we all need to move on. We’ll give him a proper send-off, of course—”
“We’ll what?” Ben sputtered. “Play out his leave? I thought he was still waiting for light duty approval—”
“Fuck.” It was one of the few times Ben had heard the LT curse. The man pulled himself back up to his full height. “He didn’t tell you. I shouldn’t have said anything. Personnel business. But since the papers landed on my desk this morning, I figured he’d have told you. My miscalculation.”
Papers. Ben had heard the expression “seeing red” before but never really understood true rage on that level. And right then, his vision had bypassed red, going straight for black, graying out around the edges. “He can’t be discharged. His injuries aren’t that serious. Leg’s expected to make a full recovery.”
The LT’s expression hardened, but his eyes were sympathetic. “You’ll need to talk to Horvat about this. I can’t say too much without putting my neck on the line, but this isn’t the Navy forcing him out.”
“Oh, we’ll talk.” Ben’s voice was surprisingly steady, no trace of anger currently infecting his every breath, making his pulse pound and his fists clench.
“Do not get yourself written up for fighting,” the LT warned, apparently not fooled by Ben’s calm tone. “I shouldn’t have to tell you to use your words not your fists, right?”
“Right,” Ben agreed even though decking Maddox had more than a little appeal.
“And I expect you 100 percent on board with our new team members. I know you and Horvat were close, but you’re a professional too, and I expect you to set aside whatever...disappointment you may be feeling.”
Close. Ha. That was one way of putting it, just like disappointment was one word to explain the hydraulic press sitting on Ben’s chest, slowly constricting his ability to think and reason. He nodded because he knew that was what the LT needed from him, and he was all for whatever gesture would get him alone fastest so he could smash something before demanding that Maddox tell him what the fuck he was thinking.
“Tovey. I’m serious here.” The LT reached out and squeezed his arm. In all their years in the field together, he had never touched Ben casually. “I’m counting on you. And do not go and do something stupid here. I shouldn’t have told you—”
“You can count on me.” Ben had to force each word out, grinding past the pressure in his chest, knowing full well that he was probably lying as he had a dozen warring impulses, each more stupid than the last.
“Why don’t you knock off early today? The rest of this inventory can wait until tomorrow. And I’ll want to brief you on the training op tomorrow as well.” The LT’s deep voice was pitched to be reassuring, but all Ben felt was patronized, not at all soothed.
Still, anything that got him to Maddox sooner was a good thing, as Ben was seriously in danger of imploding if he didn’t get an explanation and soon. His body was vibrating with the knowledge that nothing, nothing, was ever going to be the same again. And it didn’t matter what the LT said, he wasn’t ever going to be okay with this, not ever.
* * *
Maddox had just slid the chicken pot pie in the oven when he heard the door. “Ben?” he called. “You’re back early.”
“Yup.” Ben strode into the kitchen, and one look at his face had Maddox recoiling against the fridge. Ben’s eyes were hard as granite, eyebrows knit together, and mouth a thin, razor-sharp line. He knows.
“Everything okay?” Maddox asked, even though it was clear it wasn’t, might not ever be again.
“When the fuck were you going to tell me?” Ben demanded.
“Tonight.” Maddox didn’t bother playing dumb and asking Ben what he was talking about. “Yesterday, really, but the day kind of got away from us—”
“From us? You going to blame me for you being too chickenshit to tell me that you’re not re-upping? You’re processing out and I’m the last to know, and somehow it’s my fault that you didn’t tell me weeks ago?” Never one to back down from a conflict, Ben got right in Maddox’s face.
“I was waiting until after the wedding,” Maddox tried to explain. “I didn’t want to complicate things—”