Page 16 of Valor

Once we made it a point to be together, I knew he would never leave me—not by choice. But to be faced with his humanity, his mortality. It shakes me to the core.

What if I’d lost him?

It’s my worst fear, losing someone I love.

It’s unthinkable to imagine losing Ben.

I thought because Ben no longer went overseas it wasn’t an eventuality I’d have to face. I’d get to keep him my whole life, free of worry. The kids, on the other hand, I’ve worried about them since before they were born. With Cole having such extensive health issues and then being kidnapped…there aren’t words to describe that level of anxiety.

I try not to let my family see it, especially not the kids. I don’t want them to fear life the way I do, but seeing Ben in the hospital bed brings all of it bubbling to the surface.

First, my lip wobbles.

Then, my eyes sting.

“Oh, baby, don’t cry. You know I hate it when you cry.” When I don’t go to him, he snares my wrist with his big hand and tugs me down to the bed.

There’s a moment where we fight with the leads monitoring his heart rate, and then scooting over in the small space of the hospital bed with such a brawny man, but somehow we manage. Somehow we fit. Like we always do.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to cry.”

“Don’t apologize, Spitfire. It’s not your fault. The car in front of me slammed on the brakes to avoid hitting a deer. I guess my reflexes aren’t quite as hot as they were in my twenties and I rear-ended him. Knocked my head pretty good on the steering wheel.”

I lift my hand to touch the bandage on his forehead and hesitate. He closes the distance and rests his head against me, the gauze scratchy against my palm.

So easy.

It’s so unbelievably easy to lose the ones you love.

My mother, who died too soon.

My father, killed by a woman he thought he could trust.

Cole, who faces death every time he has a health scare.

Phoebe, who may seem indestructible, but seems so small against the big, big world she thinks she rules.

And now Ben.

I could lose them at any moment. The pieces of my heart that live outside my body. The people who I value more than my own life.

Turning away, I struggle to get ahold of my own breathing. This shouldn’t be about me. I’m not the one who’s hurt, but the emotion overwhelms me, consumes me. I’ve been fighting it for so long, since the day we got Cole back, that when it overtakes me, there’s no fighting against it.

Then I’m against Ben’s chest and he’s murmuring soothing words into my hair. His big palm is rubbing my back, the warmth seeping into my skin.

“I’m okay, baby. I promise. Just a scratch. They’re only keeping me in here because they’re holding a grudge. I cussed up a storm when they wouldn’t discharge me after they patched me up. Greedy old bastards is what they are. Like the V.A. will pay a penny more than they have to.”

The cantankerous tone startles a giggle out of me. He sounds so grumpy I’m reminded of Cole when he was about two and didn’t like being told what to do. Or my grandpa when things didn’t go his way.

The constant beep, beep, beep of the heart monitor fills the silence as I try to wrangle my emotions. “Tell me what happened,” I say in a watery voice.

Ben shifts against me until I’m cradled against his chest, with his arms around me. I’ve always loved that about him. He doesn’t hold back when it comes to physical affection. That he seems to need to be close to me as much as I need to be close to him. It’s not always romantic mushy stuff. Sometimes he walks into the kitchen while I’m cooking—or trying to—and he slaps my ass as he walks by. Just enough to let me know he’s thinking about me, in his own way.

I know some people think that’s crass or whatever, but to me, ass slaps are as good as an I love you. Especially from Ben.

“I was going to go looking for you. I figured you were probably going to sit at the park, like you do when you need some space. I wasn’t in a space-giving mood, so I called Mrs. Parker from next door to watch the kids while they slept, and got in the truck to find you.” His arm tightens around me. “That deer came out of nowhere and the guy in front of me had to brake hard. The EMTs were just being cautious, bringing me in with my history.” He taps his head, reminding me of the traumatic brain injury he suffered while serving overseas. The one that also made him partially deaf.

“What did the doctor’s say about your concussion? Were there any complications considering your previous TBI?” I steel myself for his answer. We’d face them, whatever they were, but he’s already suffered enough.