That’s the way I’m used to seeing him. It relaxes something inside me.
“Everything has gone good. You want me to stay on the radio while you rest?”
“Nah. Ryan will let me know if anything happens.”
Ryan is the oldest of my regulars. In his fifties, he spent his life at a desk in the Capitol until he got fed up and joined us. He’s as organized and efficient as anyone I’ve got. He’ll stay on top of check-ins and make sure everyone on duty is safe and alert.
I can trust him. I trust all my regulars.
But I trust Ben the most.
“Okay. I’ll get some rest too then. I’ll be over there.” He gestures toward the far corner of the room where there’s another small seating group.
When we’re bunking down in unusual places, he usually stays close, but he must have decided I need some space right now.
He’s not wrong. I smile at his back as he lopes over and stretches out on one chair with his legs on another.
What would I ever do without him?
I don’t even like to imagine such a possibility. It causes a huge, dark wave to rise in my mind, threatening to swallow me whole.
Shaking the glimmer of despair out of my head, I focus on my notes, going over plans for each possible military response we’ve brainstormed for the dozenth time.
We’re in good shape. We’re ready.
My ankle feels better elevated this way, and I can relax for an hour or two.
I’ve put down my notes and readjusted to get more comfortable when I notice that Ben isn’t alone across the room anymore.
Chelle. She’s Gary’s sister, and she joined us as a semiregular last year. She’s probably in her mid-thirties. Smart and good-natured and beautiful in a sensual way with red hair and a curvy body.
I’ve always liked her and been glad to have her. She’s never done a single thing that caused me to question her participation.
But my spine suddenly stiffens with a surge of resentment when I see her expression and the placement of her hand.
On Ben’s thigh. And moving upward.
Fuck.
She’s coming on to him. No question.
And Ben is smiling back at her.
The surge of feeling that rises inside me is like nothing I’ve experienced before. I’ve seen him go off to fuck other women. Plenty of them. While I was never particularly happy about it, I’d shrug it off as natural. Expected. One of those things.
It never mattered that much, so I have no idea why this is eating at me right now.
But for some reason I don’t want Chelle to come on to him like that. I don’t want him to fuck her. Not seriously. Not casually. Not at all.
It’s not simply distaste that overwhelms me. It’s a possessive outrage.
Like she has no right to look at him that way, touch him that way.
It fills me so completely I want to scream or lash out.
But it’s wrong. It’s entirely wrong to feel that sort of entitlement to Ben. He’s my companion but not my man. He’s free to fuck whoever he wants. He deserves to be happy—whatever that looks like.
Why shouldn’t that mean finally having a woman for real?
