CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE Hunter

M y eyes were fixed on Ben as I sang a song I had no trouble remembering the lyrics to. I could sing this classic and still manage to have a hundred emotions about the new doctor while I performed. I would recite the words and I would also dream of a different reality. Music gave me that relief.

I'd felt like this for a man once in my life. Of course, that was Mark, and he was my one great love. We'd grown into our love. From childhood friends to lovers. He was my future. A lifetime of building our love, and a lifetime in this one town. Unfortunately, Mark's lifetime was cut short, interrupting our building of that future. But our love had been a true gift. Mark knew I was the one for him from a very young age, and eventually, I knew the same thing.

The ache of losing Mark still lived inside me. The hurt wrapped itself around my heart, becoming a second layer of tissue. Roots of anguish and pain grew ever deeper into the organ that great romantics have penned beautiful love stories about. My heart had done its job and continued to beat for the past twenty-four months, but its capacity to love had ceased when Mark disappeared from my life.

But tonight was different. A spark ignited. Small perhaps, but reminding me that my heart was still beating, and had the capacity for love after all. I knew it after seeing Charlie set his eyes on Ben, doing his best Charlie moves, and panicking me. I could lose my chance before I even got started if I didn't wake the fuck up and recognize that Ben made me feel something. I knew Charlie felt something too, but for whom?

Jill and I had been staring across the room at Ben the moment he stepped into the tavern. He was a fish out of water. That much was obvious. But rather than cement my opinion that he was an interloper in our town, a misfit with New York City values, my heart ached at how alone and small he seemed as he wandered into an alien environment. I gave him props for showing up.

Ben Hawthorne was too pretty for this town. Too put together to survive in a country town where having class meant you could afford a double-wide. He exuded style and sophistication. I normally couldn't stand men like him. Didn't find them appealing in any sense of the word, but he seemed different somehow. Like the outer shell wasn't truly the man.

Mark had had that look, too. A small boy when he was in junior high school. A slight young man in high school. I was drawn to Mark because he brought something out in me. An innate need to protect him from a town unprepared for a boy so sensitive and sweet. My love for him was all-consuming because he was all I'd ever wanted.

Ben Hawthorne shared many of the same physical attributes that described Mark. In my opinion, one based on absolutely nothing, Ben had a sense of style and a desired need to appear aloof, unimpressed, and wary of people. The primary difference between them is that Ben has a perfectly crafted, well-honed, outer shell that he seems to hide under.

Whereas Mark had been naturally shy and sweet. He'd come to it from his gentle and loving upbringing. I sensed Ben was used to being judged and had developed this defense he presented as a guardrail to protect him from people looking at him too closely.

I had a hunch that underneath Ben's shiny fa?ade, one he'd so beautifully cultivated, was a timid and unsure man. Perhaps uncertain of his appeal, or even unconvinced that he had more to offer than his looks and pedigree.

Every one of us in this small town knew the Hawthorne family had great wealth. Having an actual member of the family show up in our tiny hamlet was big news. And, of course, having him be a doctor and a man of such incredible looks was the cherry on top for most of us.

The newspaper picture that ran as the headline, along with his family biography, only enhanced the mystery surrounding him. The primary mystery being, Why the fuck is this man coming to Plentywood ? He's rich. He's an heir to a fortune. He's well educated. And finally, what all of us townsfolk actually voiced out loud: " He's just too good for us ."

Earlier in the week at the diner, I'd realized I was interested in Ben. Meeting him at the clinic had already made me very aware that he was a catch. Jill and Agnes were doing their best to match us up, so I assumed I already had a leg up as far as chances went.

What I hadn't planned on was the fact that he so freely admitted he was committing one year only to my town, my people, my future. How could I convince him to share a future with me if he so easily admitted he was on a short-term loan from the regular world? A world far away from Plentywood and its quiet, yet boring-seeming appeal.

But now, here we were. A good-looking stranger across the dance floor, and a lonesome widower on the stage, wishing I had a legitimate shot at him. Truthfully, I was afraid to dream again. Afraid to give him a heart that had been shattered by grief. Could I survive another loss? Even if Ben didn't die, he could still leave. He could shatter my heart in an entirely different way.

Therein was the problem. What if he stayed? What if I threw caution to the wind and actually fell in love? What if he wanted me? He could, couldn't he? I'm a nice guy with an excellent track record in love. My mate died. He hadn't left me and I hadn't left him. No one cheated on the other. I was a good catch, wasn't I?

Ben would leave, though. He would put in his year in Plentywood, just like he'd said he planned to do, and then he would be gone. He would vanish just like Mark had. And while I could still contact Ben if he left, why would I if he bailed on me?

The warnings were everywhere. These questions weren't even warnings. They were actual facts. Ben had literally said, one year . One fucking year. I can't do that. I wouldn't survive that kind of loss a second time. Hell, I wasn't sure I was surviving the first loss.

Before I knew it, the crowd was cheering and shouting my name. I had managed to get through another song, another night. I was among friends and family, but I never truly felt like I was among anyone these days. I lied to people is what I did. I lied to myself even, and that was the worst part. I was good at pretending while I stood in front of people I'd known my entire life. And the even sadder truth was that they believed my lie because they desperately wanted me to be better, to be happier, to have survived the not-survivable.

Another win for the Sheriff. Seven minutes of putting up a good front while they all cheered my abilities. At the beginning of the song, I had hope. By the end, I'd come back to the place I'd started the night from. I wasn't over Mark. Ben wouldn't stay. And people like me don't get second chances at great love.

The fact that for those seven minutes, I had even considered a new life, a new love, was growth. Maybe I could? I knew I should. But could I? Could I convince myself that could was even possible?

That was the thing about music and singing, and how it affected my soul. Music was my escape. A particular song could take me back to another time. Maybe a car ride. Maybe a touch and a longing I'd felt. Maybe Mark. I could time travel with music, whether listening or creating. Music afforded me a place to be someone else. Someone who hadn't had their heart ripped from their chest.

But now, the music had died. Only the cheering of a crowd who were celebrating the fact that I must have survived my loss, my Mark. The many faces of those I'd known forever, happy and convinced. Yep, I was indeed a very good liar.

Ben stared at me from across the room. Could he sense my lie telling? My bullshit life of untruths? Perhaps he was lying as well. I sensed we both had our secrets. I was stuck in pain. He was stuck in a place he didn't want to be.

And then there was Charlie. His tears were real. We'd shared his hurt and his secrets. He'd shared mine once, too. He didn't keep secrets concerning love, but so far, he'd kept an important one. Charlie had said he was mine for the asking. But then there was Ben.