CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE Hunter

B ella stirred at the foot of the bed when she heard me roll over. Ben was curled into a ball, wrapped in a blanket like a breakfast burrito. The morning light gleamed through the edges of the window blinds.

I tugged my boxers on, stuffing my morning wood into them as I made my way to the kitchen. Mr. Coffee came to life, and I adjusted the furnace so Ben wouldn't freeze when he woke up and joined me.

"Out," I ordered, noticing frost in the yard through the front door. Bella looked at me and cowered. Even she didn't want anything to do with the freezing temps we'd had overnight. "Out," I repeated. Bella tucked her tail and high stepped out the door.

While I listened to the drip-drip of coffee, I checked my cell for any messages in case I had any problems with team members reaching town. The roads were icy and slick this time of year. These were not uncommon conditions in Montana in the dead of winter. Ben didn't complain like I thought he might because apparently New York was also prone to snowstorms and below zero temps.

There was a text from Cass that said she made it into the office and would man the station for the day. Man? Did women man things when they were in charge? Silly thought to have first thing in the morning. I reached for two mugs and waited for Mr. Coffee.

My life began to settle once Ben and I started dating. Routines I'd spent years doing with Mark came back to me so easily. Ben and I were actually past dating, from what I could tell. He was here most nights, and I was at the clinic for the others. As a month turned into one, and then one into two, we had our own rhythm going.

I loved our routine of making dinner here and then an early evening by the fire as the sun began setting earlier and earlier in the west. Summer left first and fall soon after. We were facing the winter months and an indoor existence. And that was okay because we got along quite well.

We seemed to fit like two pieces of a puzzle, and we liked the same things. Ben was more homey than I'd thought he'd be. He was a decent cook too and loved surprising me with his concoctions. He said he treated cooking like a science project. Taking recipes and studying the ingredients to create his own little twists.

It wasn't long before I found myself living a life familiar to me. So far, I hadn't panicked. His way of making me feel safe and respecting my slow path to discovering love again was mature. He didn't push. He didn't pull. His style was subtle and positive. Before I knew it, I was completely in love with him.

And the sex? How to describe his passion? Ben was full throttle in the bedroom. Hell, the bedroom was not the only room he was eager to play in. Exam rooms, the truck, on the kitchen island. Wherever. Whenever. Ben was insatiable, and I couldn't be more satisfied.

"Hunt?" Ben called. "Honey, I'm cold."

I filled both of our mugs and headed to the bedroom. "This'll help, baby boy."

Ben sat up in bed, propping his back against the headboard and patted the spot next to him. "Join me, love. I want to ask a favor."

"Uh-oh," I said, sliding under the covers and reaching for his dick. "Wasn't last night enough? You came twice," I teased, rubbing his cock.

Ben gripped my wrist. "It'll be twice more if you don't sit up here next to me."

"Okay," I groaned, kissing the tip of his nose on my way to reclining beside him. "Lemme have it."

"Can we have a Christmas tree?" he asked, sticking his lips out like a pouting little boy.

My mood changed instantly. Christmas had been Mark's favorite holiday, and I'd done zero yuletide celebrating since then. As much as the thought of having a Christmas tree in my house again made me sad, Ben wasn't Mark. This was my new life now, and I needed to adjust to changes in that life.

"Sure," I whispered, looking away. "If that's what you want."

My lackluster agreement must've sounded obvious. "You feel guilty, don't you?" Ben asked, snuggling into me, his hand across my chest as he kissed my chin. "I understand, honey, but from what I've learned about Mark, I'm sure he'd be happy to see you celebrating the holidays again."

"Can we just do it at your place?" I asked.

Ben's posture changed, and he turned to face me. "So, what you're saying is that we'll never celebrate Christmas in your house?" he questioned.

"I didn't say that, Ben."

"But you didn't not say that," he insisted. "I love being with you, Hunt. I really do."

"But?" I interrupted. "I'm hearing a big old but coming."

Ben let out an exhausted breath. We'd been having a fair share of disagreements lately concerning my reluctance to clear my house of certain items. His biggest concern was the notes I'd obsessively created after Mark died. I'd placed them everywhere as I tried to recreate exactly how we'd lived. In hindsight, I knew I made them so as not to forget him.

And truthfully, they comforted me. Ben found them a tad on the creepy side. Although he didn't actually call them creepy as we blended our lives. He was flexible as he fit me into his space above the clinic, but I'd been far less flexible in mine, and I knew it.

"I'm not looking to erase Mark from our life, Hunt," he stated, playing with the edge of the blanket covering his lower body. "I'd just like to start planning for ours."

"I know," I admitted. "I'm trying. Maybe you can lay off the pushing a bit?"

Ben slid out of bed, his beautiful body making my heart hurt as I watched him pull way-too-big pajama bottoms that belonged to me onto his slim body. He was upset again, and it was my fault. Again .

"I'm not sure about this, Hunt," he whispered. "I'm just feeling…"

"What are you feeling, Ben? You bailing on me already?" I pushed. "Is that it? Had enough of tragic Hunter?"

"Stop," he said. "Let's not do this again, Hunt."

"I said I'm trying," I said, raising my voice and standing. "You need to back off." I suddenly had a thought. "Shit! Bella's outside."

I left the bedroom and let Bella in. Ben had followed me to the living room and stood with his arms crossed when I turned around. He gestured around the room. "Look, Hunt. Just look around this place. Your notes with Mark's way of doing stuff are everywhere," he reminded me for the tenth time. "I've seen you perform the tasks, Hunter. You've got his ways down pat."

"I can't remove them," I said, looking at him, feeling defeated in my efforts at trying.

"You need to, though, honey. I really think it'd be best for your mental health," he encouraged.

"I can't do that," I resisted. "I can't and I won't."

Ben frowned and sat at the island, shaking his head back and forth. "Then I cannot stay here anymore."

"Why?" I grilled. "Why can't you just give me a fucking break about this, Ben? The constant shit about the notes and now Christmas. A tree and all the shit that goes with that. I don't want to do that stuff anymore."

Ben stood and headed back to the bedroom. I followed after him while Bella sensed tension and hurried to her bed. Ben was stuffing clothes in a duffle bag when I walked into the room.

"What are you doing?" I asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I'm going home," he stated. "You're stuck in this museum and I can't seem to get you to move forward, Hunt."

"Maybe I don't want to move forward," I defended. "You ever think about that?"

"Got it!" he declared. "Understood. One hundred percent, Hunter."

Ben pulled my pajama bottoms off and tugged jeans over his hips, looking around the room for more of his things. After returning from the bathroom with his shaving kit, he grabbed the duffle bag and started to leave the room.

"Why are you taking your toothbrush and bathroom stuff?" I asked, holding his arm to stop him.

He glanced at my hand, ice in his eyes, so I let go. I remembered this side of him from when we'd first met. Distant. Removed from emotion. The loving openness I'd grown accustomed to was replaced by the appearance of the man I'd argued with at the diner months before. Like a chameleon, he'd slipped right back into that demeanor, right before my eyes.

"You're doing to me what you did to Charlie," he stated. "And I'm not going to let you do that, Hunt."

"The fuck I am," I insisted. "Bullshit!"

"Say what you will, but you are. You're struggling to allow yourself to be loved, Hunt," he said. "I'm not good at love either, but at least I'm willing to change. I'm willing to let the past go and be open to the idea of a new life. You are stuck here in a life that has left you behind."

Ben walked to the kitchen for his truck keys. "It's icy out there, Ben. Let me drive you home."

"I'll manage," he said, grabbing his jacket from a hook on the back of the pantry door. "This is not normal, Hunt," he began, motioning around the room. "The notes. The way you have every single item in this house lined up to perfection. You're afraid you'll move one of Mark's items and then you'll forget how he did things."

"But he's dead," I whispered.

"And you're not," he reminded me. "And I'm not either."

"What does that mean?" I asked, moving closer to him, trying to grab hold of him. Ben backed away. "You don't know what it's like when someone just up and dies on you," I persisted.

"You're right. I don't," he replied. "But I do know what it's like being with someone who doesn't truly see me other than as a sexual being. I've done that before. And you're right. It's not death, but it sure as hell feels like it."

"But you ran from him," I said. "You're better here."

"Wrong! I was forced to come here," he argued. "And the sad truth is if I hadn't been, I'd probably still be lying to myself and tolerating what Rocco did to me."

His words cut like a knife. "You'd have stayed? With that man?"

"Yeah. Probably. I wouldn't have ever known I deserved better, Hunt," he said. "I wouldn't have known that an entire other world and another life could exist out of that situation. I was stuck because I accepted my circumstances. Something you are apparently happy to do."

"But he wasn't gay," I said. "He wasn't giving you his true self," I reminded him.

Ben glared at me, his shoulders dropping, until his silent accusation settled across my face. "See?" he asked. "Neither are you."

With that, Ben walked out the door. I knew I should've run after him. I knew what he said was all true, and that I had been holding a bit of me back like I always did. But every fear I held close to my chest ruled my behavior. Was Ben actually another Charlie?

I turned and walked to the kitchen counter where I'd left my mug of coffee. I put it in the microwave and stepped to the fridge for some milk. A note read, ‘ Check the expiration dates on dairy once a week .'

"Fuck!" I yelled, slamming my fist against the fridge. "Why?" I hollered. "Why the fuck am I like this?"

Bella jumped out of her bed and ran to the bedroom. The microwave chimed. Over and over, it chimed, taunting me. I grabbed the front edges of the machine and yanked it out of the enclosure it sat in, a full mug of coffee inside. The plug fought my attempt to toss it, so I simply dropped it on the floor.

"I hate you, Mark! You fucking died on me," I raged. "You promised you'd be with me forever. You liar!"

I slid down the front of the kitchen counter, hunched over between the counter and the island across from it. My eyes were shut tight as I fought the unbearable grief that I'd erroneously believed had finally passed after more than two years.

I felt a cool and wet doggy nose on my forehead. Bella stood with her tail between her legs, worriedly staring at me. She didn't know exactly why I was hurting, but she knew I was. She nudged her way onto my lap. I pulled her close and buried my face in her winter coat.

"He promised he wouldn't leave me alone," I wept. "He promised."