Book of the Month: TAKE ME HOME: Chapter 6
Chapter Six
“Are you ready for this, sir?”
Ben stared at the packet in his hand, wanting to be anywhere else but here at the moment. “Did I ever tell you about the time our base got overrun?”
Sorren watched him silently.
“Zittoro manned the fifty cal for thirty-six hours straight. Never took a break for chow, nothing. Just kept watch over his sector and kept the enemy from exploiting a weakness in our perimeter.” He looked up at Sorren. “The kid’s a fucking hero and now I’ve got to throw him out of the Army.”
Sorren folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe. “We can’t keep him in, sir,” he said after a moment.
“I know that. Realistically, I know that.” He flipped open the packet and read the first page, bitterness surrounding his heart. “It doesn’t make it feel any less wrong.”
Sorren let the silence hang. Finally, Ben leaned forward, setting the folder down. “Bring him in, Firs’ Sarn’t.”
The warrior Ben had known was long gone, replaced by the skinny, burned-out addict in front of him. Zittoro’s hands trembled as Ben continued reading the separation packet. His face flushed. A single bead of sweat ran down his temple. His entire body shook now.
First Sergeant Sorren put his hand on Zittoro’s shoulder. Zittoro flinched at the touch, then looked up at the big first sergeant. “It’s going to be okay, son,” he said softly.
Zittoro nodded, blinking rapidly. The contact steadied him. Enough so that Ben could clear his throat and finish reading. He turned the packet toward Zittoro for him to sign. Zittoro’s hand shook so badly he dragged the pen off the edge of the paper.
Ben signed after him. His heart was a lead weight in his chest.
And then there was the silence.
Until Zittoro spoke. “Can I ask a favor, sir?”
Ben glanced at Sorren then back at his soldier. “Yeah, what’s up?”
Zittoro cleared his throat. “I’m… I hit thirty-six months in three weeks. Could, could I stay until then? So I can qualify for my GI Bill?”
His hands shook as he spoke, his throat jumping with each word.
Ben would be breaking the rules. He was supposed to process the packet within a certain amount of time. If he didn’t, the process was supposed to start all over again. The battalion commander had given him clear guidance to get these guys gone-guys like Zittoro that took time away from training the rest of the team for the next deployment.
But Ben looked at Zittoro right then, the decision weighing on him. He could do the right thing…or he could do what the Army wanted him to do.
Ben had never been a company man. It wasn’t time to start now, just because he was a commander.
Ben looked him dead in his eyes. “Yeah. I can do that. But you’ve got to promise me you’ll stay clean. You can’t use or you’ll tie my hands.”
Zittoro’s eyes widened and filled with tears. As though he’d expected Ben to say no.
Because any other commander would have.
“Thank you, sir. I-I won’t let you down.” His voice shook violently.
“I know.” Ben swallowed the lump in his throat. His eyes stung with frustration. The kid had nothing. Nowhere to go. No family. And the goddamned Army was throwing him out.
Ben was throwing him out.
At that moment, he hated. Hated the fucking rules. Hated that Zittoro looked at him and knew that Ben knew he had nowhere to go.
Ben cleared his throat.
Zittoro looked like he would crumble with relief beneath the news. He licked his lips quickly. “I-thank you, sir. First Sarn’t.”
Ben stood and circled his desk, gripping the younger man’s shoulder lightly. He didn’t squeeze. He was afraid Zittoro’s bones would snap from the pressure. “Just…you need to figure out how to get clean, man. This shit is going to kill you,” Ben said quietly. It was a terrible thing to say to an addict. He couldn’t stop himself from using any more than Ben could stop himself from breathing.
Being an addict meant he couldn’t be a soldier. Zittoro wasn’t like Reza-Reza had finally managed to get himself clean. Zittoro? He couldn’t quit the monkey that drove him to use. Ben wished it were otherwise, but wishes weren’t all that useful against addiction.
Zittoro hadn’t managed to kick his addiction. But that didn’t mean that Ben had to treat him like he was a piece of shit.
It wasn’t going to do a damn thing to make Ben feel less dirty than he did right then. Like he was betraying a kid who’d counted on him, on the Army, not to break him.
Ben felt sick.
Sorren closed the door behind him. “You know he’s going to use, don’t you, sir?”
Ben leaned back against his desk and folded his arms over his chest. “Probably.”
“But you’re willing to risk it?” Sorren’s expression was carefully blank, leaving Ben to guess whether or not his first sergeant approved of his decision.
“He might make it. And maybe someday he’ll get clean and be able to use the benefits he earned.” Ben swallowed roughly. “It doesn’t cost the Army a damn thing to let him finish out this month. If he manages to ever use the benefits, he’s earned them. If he doesn’t, so be it.” But it was a chance. A chance Zittoro hadn’t had five minutes before.
Sorren grunted and said nothing. He shifted and mirrored Ben’s stance, folding his arms over his chest. “For what it’s worth, sir, I think that took some balls. The battalion commander isn’t going to be happy when he finds out.”
Ben held out his hand for the packet. Sorren handed it back. “If he finds out. Just tell the sergeant major that I’m being a pain in the ass about processing things.”
Sorren scrubbed a big hand over the back of his neck. “You did the right thing.”
Ben said nothing. Because it was a line of bullshit.
He’d done the Army thing because Zittoro was still going home. Nothing Ben did could change that.
And that was not the same in his book.
He stalked out of the office, needing some fresh air.
***
“I’m sorry, Captain Marshall, but you’re no longer the company commander and therefore, I’m not required to tell you anything.” Olivia stood in the small office that had become her workspace, ready to do battle with the arrogant bastard in front of her. She rounded her desk, her wrist bumping into the cracked side of the scales of justice on her desk. The broken plate creaked on the chain.
Olivia felt the split against the heel of her hand. Reminding her of her purpose. Her task.
Marshall was oblivious. Guys like him always were. Guys who let the power of command go to their heads. Who thought they were above the law.
“I have a right to know what the charges are against me.” Marshall was not a small man. He was built like Ben, only leaner and with a whole lot more mean layered over that muscle.
“Actually, you haven’t been charged with anything yet. Captain,” Olivia said, putting mild emphasis on his rank. Olivia had dealt with men like Marshall more than once. It chafed that she didn’t have the means to put him in his place…yet. There was no desk between them but she’d be damned if she was going to back down against this son of a bitch. If he hit her, he’d only do it once.
And she’d add assault to the charge sheet that she hadn’t written yet.
“You’re hiding information. I have a right to face my accusers.”
“Once you’ve been accused.” She lifted her chin. “I can’t help you. And I’ll thank you to remember your military bearing, Captain Marshall.”
Ben rounded the corner of her office door and Olivia was never so glad for a distraction as she was at that exact moment.
The fact that it was Ben was an added bonus but she kept that fact to herself.
Ben stepped between her and Marshall. Olivia wasn’t foolish enough to argue. She didn’t actually want to get punched today.
And his willingness to step into the fray… She stopped the mental detour she’d just taken. She didn’t want to see Ben Teague for anything more than he professed to be, no matter how much the shadows in his eyes made her want to know more about the man she suspected he was hiding from the world.
“Take it up with the battalion commander, shit for brains.” Ben tossed a stack of packets on a chair and squared off with Marshall.
Marshall took a step closer until his face was an inch from Ben’s. “Get the fuck out of my face, Teague.”
“You want to do this, I’m fine with that,” Ben snarled.
“Mind your own fucking business.”
Ben slipped his hands into the collar of Marshall’s uniform top and shoved him backward out of Olivia’s office. Marshall went down with a crack that sounded like a bone had broken.
“Out.”
Marshall got to his feet and looked as if he was about to lunge at Ben, but then thought better of it. “This isn’t over, Teague. You think you’re hot shit because you’re taking over my sloppy seconds again.”
Ben stepped forward. Marshall didn’t back down. Neither did Ben. “Not the first time. Won’t be the last. Might want to go put some ice on your pride.”
Marshall stalked off. Ben turned and Olivia held up Marshall’s patrol cap. “He’s going to be back for this,” she said, dangling it off her index finger.
Ben grabbed it and threw it out into the adjutant’s office. “Not back in here.”
“Wow, you’re going all caveman. I’m not sure if I should swoon or wring out my panties.”
“Did you just make a joke?” Ben froze and frowned. His nostrils flared from the mix of too much adrenaline and the sudden lack of an appropriate place to put it. “When did we reach the joke-making phase of this relationship? I thought we were still at the swiping hostility phase.”
“Nervous tension,” she said, waving a hand. “I don’t know what I’m saying.” For a moment, all her shields fell away and she stood there, grinning up at him. As though he was a normal man and she was a normal woman. Her breath caught in her throat when he met her gaze, his quiet laugh filling the space. The joke had felt good, too good. She shifted her focus back on the job. “You two worked together before?”
“He tried to have my platoon sergeant court-martialed back in ’03. Let’s just say we’re not taking warm showers together anytime soon.” He looked at her then and his eyes softened. Olivia’s insides twinged at the unexpected concern. “You okay?” A concern she hadn’t counted on. It slipped behind her shields and warmed her in a way that she knew she shouldn’t be warmed.
She nodded, folding her arms across her chest to hide her shaking hands. She had been willing to fight but now that the threat had passed, she had nothing to do with the adrenaline that still pumped through her veins.
Ben pushed her back into her office and closed the door behind them. “You would have gotten your ass whipped. You know that, right?”
“I was banking on him not actually hitting me.”
“Based on what?”
“Pure stupidity,” she mumbled, admitting it before he forced her to swallow the bitter pill. It had been stupid antagonizing Marshall, but the more she learned about him and his minions, the more she wanted-badly-to see him punished for abusing his power. Half the packets on her desk were there because Marshall hadn’t been doing his job.
She backed up against her desk and knocked Ben’s Stetson to the floor. “Ugh, I still haven’t gone to the store.”
“You didn’t get one yet?” Ben leaned down and scooped up his Stetson, then set it on top of the files, then looked down at his watch. “What are you doing for lunch?”
“Working.”
“Not anymore. Come on. I’ll buy you lunch at McDonald’s or something equally romantic but you can’t walk around tomorrow without a Stetson.”
She didn’t move. “Why are you doing this?” she asked abruptly. “One minute, we’re arguing, the next you’re taking me to buy a silly hat.”
“Bite your tongue and never repeat that.” His lips twitched at the edges, reminding her of that first smile the other morning. “Besides, maybe I find interpersonal hostility deeply sexy.” He picked up his Stetson from the top of the pile of folders.
Her lips twitched. “Do you?”
“Maybe.” His mouth crooked at one corner. He stood a little too close. His shoulders were a little too broad.
“You’re a complicated man,” she whispered.
“So are you,” he said. “Woman, I mean.” A flush crawled up his neck.
She laughed out loud, covering her mouth at the unexpected sensation. It was such a rare thing for her to laugh with someone. To feel this easiness.
Like something she might start to crave if she wasn’t careful.
“A Stetson is tradition,” he said, his voice rough. “And you want to fit in, right?”
“You don’t strike me as a traditional kind of guy,” she said.
“Depends on the tradition.” He tapped the patch on his right shoulder. “Like this one. Why is it so important?”
“I already told you that,” she said softly, not liking where this line of questioning was heading.
“No, you told me why you wouldn’t wear your patch from Kuwait, not why wearing one you earned was important to you. There’s a difference.”
Olivia’s skin prickled at the question. Her breath caught in her throat. She retreated against her desk, rubbing her hand over her face. He’d struck a sore spot with that comment. A direct hit at the aching feelings of always being on the outside. Striking at the heart of her insecurity. “The Stetson is as serious as a combat patch?”
“Yes,” Ben said simply.
Olivia sighed, grateful that her hands had stopped shaking now that the threat from Captain Marshall had passed, both in its proximity and from her body’s reaction. “Fine.”
Ben frowned then narrowed his eyes. “You’re not going to argue anymore?”
“Are you going to stop pestering me?” He folded his arms over his chest and looked every bit the belligerent warrior. “See? It’s not a good use of my energy.”
She could see him calculating. She wasn’t entirely sure why she agreed to go with him. Maybe the situation with Marshall had unnerved her a little more than she was willing to admit. Ben’s timing had been perfect.
And beneath the swagger of male egos, she’d seen something intriguing. Beneath the smart mouth and wise cracks, there was something deeper.
Something serious that Ben Teague tried to hide from the world. But she kept catching glimpses of it and the more she saw, the more curious she became. What else was there to this man who rejected the idea of command and leadership and all the things Army officers were supposed to grow up to be?
***
“Whose files did you drop off?” she asked as they drove out of Fort Hood’s main gate.
He couldn’t quite figure out what he was doing with the lawyer. She sat next to him in his truck, her hands twisting in her lap. She was nervous, that much he could tell. She was usually always so confident, so strict and businesslike.
To see her a little nervous? A little vulnerable? It did something to his insides. Made him a little bit hungry for something he couldn’t have.
He fiddled with the radio, needing something to fill the silence and derail his thoughts from the dangerous direction they were taking. “Remis, Bisco, and Hooch. Why?”
“I want to mark them off on my tracker.” She pulled out a tiny notepad from her shoulder pocket and jotted down the names.
“Tracker?”
“I’m keeping tabs on every file that I’ve pushed out to commanders and how long they’ve had it.”
Ben glanced at her. Her eyes were hidden beneath brown Wiley-X glasses. “That seems a little…”
“Anal?”
Ben lifted an eyebrow and suddenly found the leather of his steering wheel fascinating. “You said it, not me.”
Olivia turned her head toward the passing traffic. The muscles in her neck tensed. “I’ve had problems with packets disappearing,” she said quietly. “Commanders not turning them in, sergeants not getting the required paperwork. Then I’m stuck answering for them and bad soldiers are still here. There was one time a commander decided to retain an NCO…”
Her words faded. There was a memory there. A subtle undercurrent to her words. A tension beyond her usual stiffness. It filled the cab of his old truck, an insidious thing.
“It still bothers you.” He turned toward the Country and Western store where she could get her Stetson.
She clenched her jaw. It was a long time before she answered. “It doesn’t matter now.”
He glanced over at her. “Must have been a big deal for you to be upset about it after all this time.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever get over it completely,” she admitted. She lifted one shoulder and dropped it. She looked over at him, her mouth pressed into a flat, cynical line. “I failed to protect a family. The boss didn’t listen to me.” A deep breath, filled with regret. “A week later, the sergeant’s entire family was dead in a murder-suicide.” She paused and he heard her sharp intake of breath. “It still hurts. I wish it didn’t but it does.” A painful admission.
“That was the case you told me about.” He didn’t bother to hide the sympathy in his
voice.
Her fingers tightened in her lap, her eyes dark with emotions as raw today as they must have been the day it happened. She hadn’t dealt with their deaths. Not at all. He could see that in the bleak emptiness looking back at him. “It’s all said and done now. Not much I can do about it except learn from my mistakes.”
“Why do you do that?” he asked suddenly.
“Do what?”
“Brush things off.” He rolled to a stop at a light. “You get so fired up about things, so passionate, but when something hurts, you brush it off.”
“I don’t like remembering painful things,” she said quietly. “It doesn’t help anything.”
“Neither does running from the memories,” he said. He looked over at her, surprised by the vulnerability in her voice. “Everyone makes mistakes, Olivia.”
Her smile was sad and filled her eyes. “My mistakes got someone killed,” she whispered.
“You didn’t make the choice to go home to an abuser,” he said.
“It’s so much more complicated than that,” she said. “The Army protected him when they should have protected her.” She paused, looking away. “I could have done more.”
She looked so lost, so alone. He reached for her then, because he couldn’t stop himself. He brushed his thumb over her cheek. A gentle touch. Something he shouldn’t have done but something he wouldn’t regret. “You can keep telling yourself that,” he whispered. “But it won’t make it so.”
Silence wound between them. Her skin was warm beneath his touch. Her breath huffed over his knuckles. Her lips were parted, a tiny space that he had a sudden longing to taste.
He searched her eyes, looking for what, he didn’t know.
A horn blared behind him, jolting him out of the moment.
She looked away, but not before he noticed the flush creeping over her skin.
“Do you have a first sergeant now?” Olivia asked. The obvious change of subject wasn’t lost on Ben.
He let it ride for now. Her admission revealed a complex woman beneath the hard adherence to the rules and regulations, and suddenly Ben found himself wanting to know more about the very real, very complicated person that she worked so hard to hide. There was more to this woman, so much more.
And Ben wanted to know all of it. She pulled at him in a way that a woman hadn’t pulled at him in a long, long time.
He parked outside the Western wear store and led her into the depths. A bell jangled over the door. The smell of leather permeated the air, thick and heavy and clean. Boots were stacked on boxes, displaying every style under the sun.
At the counter, an old man was steaming a Stetson. “Be with you in a second,” he said without looking up.
Olivia looked up at Ben, who shrugged. “Need some cowboy boots while you’re here? Embrace your inner Texan?”
She shook her head. “I don’t have an inner Texan.”
“Everyone has an inner Texan. Most folks just don’t figure it out until it’s too late.”
“Too late?”
“Yeah. They find out they really did have an inner Texan while they’re-oh, I don’t know-freezing their asses off in Alaska or South Korea.” Ben pulled a tan hat off one of the racks. “Think the sergeant major would like my substitution?”
“Aren’t you the guy who wears the trucker hats just to piss him off?” Olivia asked, fighting the urge to grin.
Ben grinned wickedly even as a flush crept up his neck. “You heard about that, huh?”
“Everyone has heard about it. The clerks in the adjutant’s office were trying to figure out if Sergeant Major Cox had really kicked you in the tail on the way out of the ops.”
Ben lifted both eyebrows, putting the hat back on the rack. “The sarn’t major might be grumpy but he’ll have to get up a lot earlier than that to take me out.” The old man behind the counter finished what he was doing and planted himself at the edge of the counter. “What kind of cord do you need?”
Olivia looked at the wizened old cowboy like he’d lost his mind. “Um…”
It took everything Ben had not to point out the obvious officer rank in the middle of Olivia’s chest. The old man took in Olivia’s confusion and grunted, “Officer,” before turning away to pluck the black and gold braided cord from a hook. “Here.”
He handed her a Stetson and started fiddling with the cord while Olivia tried to figure out the two leather straps on the inside of the hat.
Ben tugged it from her hands. “Like this.” He loosened the straps and put the hat on her head, tugging the leather straps over the bun at the base of her skull.
She adjusted it. “It’s tight.”
“It’s supposed to fit snug. Otherwise, it’ll blow off in the first gust of wind.”
She glanced at his Stetson. “What are the knots on the front of yours?”
Ben picked his own Stetson up. On the front of the cord were two knots on either side of the center loop. “Combat knots.” Olivia’s gaze flicked to Ben’s right shoulder. “Why does this matter so much to you?” he asked.
“Because I haven’t earned a combat patch.” Olivia lifted the Stetson from her head and smoothed her hair back into place. She looked down at her new Stetson, gleaming black and unformed. “You earn your place in the world,” she said softly.
She was lost, he realized. Adrift in the newness of being in the Cav, a new unit and one where she was utterly alone. But there was more to this than simply being in a new place. He stepped closer to her, close enough to see the blue streaks in her eyes, and gave in to the urge to tilt her face up to meet his gaze.
“Who let you down, Olivia?” he whispered.
Her throat moved as she swallowed. But she didn’t pull away from his touch.
“It doesn’t matter anymore.”
But it did. Oh, but it did. She mattered, but now was neither the time nor the place. He slipped her Stetson from her hands and handed it to the old cowboy. “Shape it up?”
“No problem, boyo.”
Olivia wandered off, clearly trying to avoid the rest of the conversation. Ben was tempted to follow her, to find out what was so damned important about earning the big horsehead patch, but something about the way she stared aimlessly at the wall of boots on display had him holding back.
There was a strange truce between them now. She tugged at him.
And despite everything that happened between them, he savored the delicious pull toward this complicated, driven woman. He wanted. He could admit that to himself, at least. He wanted to see if the passion he saw when she was at work carried over to the rest of her life.
He watched her then and saw the damaged woman she tried to conceal behind a cool professional facade.
And he let himself wonder what if.
ONE CLICK TAKE ME HOME NOW!
APPLE BOOKS | KINDLE | BARNES & NOBLE | KOBO | GOOGLE PLAY