CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN Hunter

" S heriff! Doc!" the crowd hollered, noticing Ben attached to my hip, his hand smothered by mine.

"It's about time, you two," Lance Gold stated when we got closer. Lance and his wife, Barbie, had been close friends of mine and Mark's.

"I told you," Barbie added, glancing at her husband while slugging my arm. "Wise choice, Doctor Ben," she added. "This one's a catch."

Ben leaned closer to me. I think he was overcome with the amount of staring folks inside Smitty's were doing. What he wasn't aware of was that I had been on the receiving end of incessant bets about my impending relationship. I'd had to deal with gossip from long-time acquaintances, high-fives at work, and the loving support from my friends. Townsfolk had their suspicions after Ben and I started being seen out around town more often.

He was busy at the clinic and didn't know that Plentywood was a town of supportive folks who genuinely wanted to see others happy. I knew they'd been rooting for me for a long time. Part of their celebration had to be about me coming out the other end of a long tunnel of grief.

Next up, as we made our way to the bar, was Jill. She'd heard endless stories of the past few weeks from me as Ben and I got closer. As much as she loved and missed her brother, I was confident she was happy for me.

Jill leaned in for a hug and whispered in my ear. "Careful," she warned. "Charlie is here tonight, and he's been doing shots. A lot of shots, Hunt."

I jerked around to see what corner Charlie was located in. He was standing at the bar, leaning against it for support. I could tell from twenty feet away he was blitzed out of his mind.

"How long?" I asked Jill.

"Two. Maybe three hours," she said. "He's heard the rumors, Hunt."

"Fuck," I hissed under my breath.

Ben turned and noticed Charlie glaring at us. "Was that because of Charlie?" he asked, having heard me drop an F-bomb. "Maybe we should leave," he added, tugging on my arm.

"We aren't going anywhere," I stated. "If we run from Charlie Brewster, we send the wrong message, Ben."

Jill laid her hand on Ben's shoulder. "Charlie will behave, Ben. He's drunk, but he isn't stupid."

"Let's grab some beers," I said, placing my hand on Ben's lower back. "Anything, Jill?"

Jill held up her own beer and shook her head. I relocated my hand to Ben's and led him to the bar. Charlie watched us with narrowed eyes and a scowl on his face as we got closer. Fuck! I did not need this tonight. What I hoped for was a soft launch of my new relationship. It was important for folks to see me and Ben together as a couple.

"I'm not sure about this," Ben whispered in my ear. "Charlie has been leaving messages on my cell phone, Hunt. He's been texting too."

I stopped dead in my tracks and turned to face him. "Why didn't you fucking tell me this before?" I hissed. My blood pressure shot up instantly and I felt my temples pulsing.

Ben stepped back, shock on his face. "Don't talk to me like that," he stated.

I was instantly ashamed of my reaction. Three weeks into a romance with someone I adored, and I was already pissing around his yard while I marked my territory. This was a symptom of mine that came out if I sensed danger. Especially if I was protecting my man.

"I'm sorry, Ben," I muttered, glancing at Charlie. "I'm… well… I can be jealous."

"I consider Charlie a friend. That's all it is, and I didn't want to trouble you with how he's been calling and texting me a lot lately," he began. "Agnes gives me these weird warnings about her own grandson and now her vague warnings have me wondering."

"What kind of warnings?" I pushed.

Ben looked away for a second. Of course, I was uneasy when he did. Was he hiding something? Had Charlie made a big deal to him about us hooking up in the past? I hadn't exactly come completely clean about that time of my life.

"Agnes seems to infer that he is trouble and that I shouldn't get involved with him," Ben said. "And maybe because of that, I've been reluctant to return his calls. That and… well…"

"What?" I demanded, once again losing my cool. "Did something happen in Missoula? Did he lay one single fucking hand on you?"

"Hunt! Stop this," he stated. "I like that you're protective. I like it a lot, actually, but this is not that."

In typical tough-guy Sheriff-mode, I fumed. The thought of Charlie laying a hand on Ben infuriated me. Even when I had no rights over Ben back then, or even today, I was angry as fuck at the idea of them two possibly being physical.

"Shit!" I huffed. "Fuck! I'm such a goddamned kid sometimes," I seethed. "I can't keep apologizing about my behavior, Ben. You'll get tired of it. This is that insecurity thing I warned you about out front before we came in."

He did what he always did since he'd figured out how to put me under his spell. He placed his hand on my chest. "I like how you care," he said. "How about we table this for now and when we both are calmer, we can discuss better tools for when it arises again."

I stared at Ben like he had a third eye on his forehead. He was smart. He used calming words and wielded clever intelligence when he spoke. "Is this how you navigate a relationship?" I teased. "Because that shit was smooth, doc."

"I've never had a real relationship," he reminded me. "But I am an adult," he added, winking at me.

"Oh, baby boy. You are gonna pay for this later," I growled.

"Is that a threat, or a promise?"

Surprisingly, the night was going well. Ben and I teamed up to battle Lance and Barbie at pool. Ben was pretty good at pool, even if he hadn't ever played the game. He claimed that the game was a matter of angles and geometry. Spoken like a man of science.

Jukebox music blasted over the sound system, the banter of a hundred or more folks rising and lowering depending on the breaks between songs. I'd had a few beers and was feeling a bit mushy over my new man, keeping him close and kissing on him whenever the chance allowed.

Ben was a natural with people. He was far more social than he gave himself credit for. Even though he was smart as a whip, elegant, and sophisticated, he was kind. When I'd first met the buttoned-up doctor from New York City, he seemed snooty. But I began to believe that his behavior was shyness, coupled with a lack of experience in social gatherings. People were truly warming up to him.

I lost track of the many compliments folks paid to me when they'd stop and say hi to us as we hung out. Most would engage Ben and then pull me aside to share a story and some praise.

"He's so warm at the clinic," Alice Beel told me. "He saved Julia Garner's life," she'd added.

"I heard he's buying a fancy diagnostic machine for the clinic," Joannie, the dispatcher at the Sheriff's office, alerted me. "The new doc is very generous."

I lost track of the many kind words and who'd spoken them as asides to me as we roamed around the bar.

"Did you know he sold his Mercedes to fund the theater? Can you believe that?"

"He wants to pay for more training for Agnes. He gave her a big raise. She hasn't had a raise in ten years."

"He told Mary Lichty that he'd pay for her daughter's cheerleader outfit because she couldn't afford it."

"He really listens to people, Hunt. We thought he might be stuck up, but he's not. He is so sweet to folks."

"I'll just die if he ever moves away. We are so lucky to have him in Plentywood."

These conversations happened the entire evening. People would gather around us and the moment Ben was distracted, they'd pull me aside and share another personal story. I had no idea what Ben was up to at the clinic every day, but apparently, he'd been charming the pants off our town.

Suddenly, the music died, and the lights came up. "Okay, folks. It's your favorite time of the night," Smitty yelled from the stage.

"Hunt! Hunt! Hunt!" the crowd chanted.

Ben turned fire-engine red and grinned at me, laying his head against my shoulder. I kissed the top of his head and the bar went nuts.

"Ben! Ben! Ben!" they yelled.

I kissed Ben on the lips, raising my arm in acknowledgment, and headed for the stage. Jill and Ben stood closer together while I made my way.

My guitar, as usual, was already next to the stool on stage. I sat down and pulled the mic toward me. "How about some Billy Joel?" I asked.

The crowd cheered and clapped as I tuned the guitar, checking the height of the mic again and searching the crowd for Ben. The bright lights in my face made it hard to find him, but once I did, I calmed myself and grinned like a madman in love.

I began a slow acoustic version of " Just The Way You Are .' The hit song by Billy Joel was from 1977 and was older than I was, but I loved seventies classic rock and this particular one spoke to my feelings of late.

"Don't go changing," I began, focusing on Ben.

Suddenly a figure to my right jumped on stage, knocking the mic stand over. Charlie tore the mic out of my hand and faced the crowd. The place went dead silent.

"Don't, Charlie," I said, placing my hand on his shoulder. "Not now," I insisted.

"Fuck that!" he raged, slapping my hand away. "These people need to know the truth about us."

He stumbled around the stage, tears streaking down his face. Several patrons came stage side, looking for my permission to intervene, but I hesitated. "Wait a second," I mouthed, eyeing Charlie carefully.

Charlie and I had a history in this town. Most of it was not good. From high school till now, we'd shared a difficult path. Most of it concerned him losing out on love to Mark. He never forgave Mark for stealing me away, even when that wasn't what happened.

Eighteen months ago, he lost complete control of his faculties when I refused to continue using him sexually. We had the talk one night at my house. He had slowly been moving items to my house, thinking he could live with me full time. We needed to set boundaries where he could accept that we weren't anything more than sex.

The conversation did not go well. Charlie lost control of his emotions because he had had his heart set on an us. Especially when, following six months of loneliness after Mark died, I brought him to my bed, knowing I was making a mistake. But selfishly, I had needs. Charlie was there for me and I used him.

During my attempt at a gentle letdown, hoping I could salvage a friendship out of respect for him, he totally freaked out. Charlie ran to my bedroom and grabbed my handgun, waving and pointing it at me. He'd said he'd rather me dead than him not have me. He raged about how I owed him this because I'd selfishly loved Mark more.

Just as I thought I had him calmed down, he locked himself inside my bedroom and then threatened to kill himself. It took the entire sheriff's department to get him out of my house. Agnes had him committed on a psychiatric hold in Missoula and that was the end.

After his return, and with him on medication, he found his equilibrium again. He and I slowly worked on repairing our friendship. There were occasional slips on his part where he'd try to seduce me, but I'd been frightened by what had happened, so I was patient.

I tough-loved him through hard times with friendship whenever he fought old demons about wanting to be with me. We eventually could good-naturedly joke and tease each other with rude sexual comments, even if that was probably poor judgment on both our parts.

But tonight, right in front of me and a lot of the population, that same destroyed man reappeared, about to reveal his ugly side. Charlie was also drunk. Not a good recipe for his already erratic behavior.

"He doesn't love you," he spat, pointing toward Ben. "He loves me. He fucked me so good, doc. Did you know that? And long before you ever showed up."

I witnessed Ben flinch as all eyes turned toward him. I stood and reached out to Charlie. "Okay, buddy. That's enough. How about we get you home?"

Charlie dipped away from me and moved to the corner of the stage furthest from me. "I was there for him when Mark died," he said, rocking unsteadily on his feet. "I wanted to be his husband. Me! It was me! Not Mark!" He glared at Ben, who now stood behind Jill and Lance. "He'll use you too, doc. Does he fuck you good? Does he?"

Charlie sat down on the edge of the stage. I turned toward Smitty and held an imaginary finger phone to my head in a plea for him to call Agnes Brewster.

"I fucking loved you!" Charlie screamed. "Fucking loved…"

Charlie bent his head over and sobbed. His agony overcame his ability to speak. I stood motionless on stage while all eyes turned from one to another. We were too stunned to react. I was ashamed of myself even though something similar had happened in the past and the town knew I was sorry for my part in all of it.

Suddenly, Ben came around Jill and Lance, walking slowly toward the stage. All eyes followed him, their bodies tense with anticipation and dread. He kneeled in front of Charlie and held his hands. If it hadn't been for the microphone still in Charlie's hand, we wouldn't have heard the quiet exchange.

"I'm sorry you're hurting, Charlie," Ben said, speaking level and very calmly. "We all face things that are hard. What can I do to help you right now?"

The crowd gasped. Charlie lifted his head to face the unexpected person in front of him. His face was wracked by pain, tears flooded his eyes as he stared at Ben.

"It hurts inside," Charlie said, touching his heart. "I wanted my chance."

"I understand that," Ben agreed. "I bet you want people to know how much you hurt, right?"

Charlie looked around at the assembled crowd, tears flooding his eyes to the point I doubted he could see them. "I do," he mumbled. "I wanted my chance, too. I wasn't really sad when Mark died. I acted like I was, but I wasn't."

Another gasp from the crowd. "You don't really mean that, Charlie," Ben soothed. "And it's okay to have thoughts like that when you hurt. It is very normal to feel those things."

Charlie fixated on Ben's face, mere inches away from his own. "Why are you being so nice to me?" he asked, hiccupping and taking short breaths.

Ben rested his hand on Charlie's knee. "Because I've been here too," he admitted. "It sucks when stuff hurts."

"Yeah, it does. My whole heart hurts," Charlie whispered, looking around the bar. "I'm a fuck-up, but I want love too."

"I understand. Let's take you home," Ben said. "I'll take you home, Charlie. Will you let me do that?"

I stepped forward to protest, but Ben waved me off, holding his hand out for what I assumed was my truck keys. Whatever Ben was doing, he was in complete control of the situation.

"You… you'll… you'll help me home?" Charlie asked, snot coming out of his nose as he fought more hiccups.

"I will," Ben said. "And we'll do our best to help each other out the next time we hurt. I'm probably going to need your help one day, Charlie."

"Okay," Charlie agreed, attempting to stand.

Once again, I stepped forward to assist, but Ben waved me off. "I have him," he said.

Ben moved Charlie's arm around his neck and the crowd parted as the two of them shuffled toward the door. Something told me not to intervene, despite an overwhelming need to take control.

Whatever concern I'd had about Ben's possible involvement with Charlie while they were in Missoula had evaporated. Ben saw Charlie as someone who needed help and compassion. I hated myself at that moment, but I knew I was in love with Ben.