New York was starting to thaw just as her life was beginning to bloom into full, albeit happy chaos. Everything was happening at the same time. Dance rehearsals had picked up dramatically, as word of the troupe’s upcoming production had sparked interest after a preview with some of the art critics of the city. The show was picking up steam, and was even considered to be anticipated. That meant quitting her office job and working part time as a dance instructor, so she could fully live, eat and breathe all things dance.

It bewildered her, as she stood watching all the young, impressionable dancers get collected by their parents and siblings. She had only been teaching for about a month. Ben had suggested the idea, since the stress from creating her solo routine and practicing the group performance pieces were truly starting to cripple her ability to function.

As it turned out, after she started asking around her colleagues for dance-related work suggestions, their troupe was partnered with a dance school for kids. With a lot of encouragement from Laney and Ben’s constant contagious enthusiasm, she gathered up the balls to go interview and, much to her own disbelief, was offered the position the next day.

Now she was teaching little kids, and a few ridiculously energetic kids at that, how to make their dreams about dancing and movement start to come true. While she was still stressed about the show and her constantly changing solo, she found was much happier on a daily basis not having to go into work at an office. If only she could find a way to get 8 more hours of sleep and eat 3, well-balanced meals a day. Well, she certainly couldn’t have it all.

Teaching others, let alone children, had always seemed so far out of her personal realm of comfort. It had bizarrely come to her naturally—using experience from helping other foster kids during her time in the system. The pay was close to being even with her office temp job, and when she felt pinched, Ben always spoke up and wanted to help however he could.

There was thick tension around the idea at first—she’d laughed in his face when he’d suggested helping her out with rent. It took several long conversations and a lot of repeating “This may destroy us, Ben,” to him over and over again before she finally agreed to letting him help her with the relatively small sum.

He understood why she didn’t like it, what it meant for her to accept his help. It was never brought up again unless she asked him about it first. She still felt a little uneasy that he’d offered to help her in the first place. There were too many thumbs that she’d placed herself under in the past—she didn’t want to add Ben’s to that list.

As the last few students were being picked up by their parents, Ben slipped in through the door with a backpack slung over one shoulder and a cooler in hand. She could tell he was coming straight from work; his badge was still hung around his neck underneath his light leather jacket, his usual watch poking out from his sleeve. He was clad in his usual dark wash jeans and black boots. Something about the way he always looked impeccably put together yet so comfortable made him all the more attractive.

Feeling slightly distracted, she gave him a wave and a smile as she walked over to talk with the last few parents that remained with their kids. In all honesty, her and the kids got along much better than she did with their parents. It was easy to relate to the kids' energy and enthusiasm. Relating to the parents’ obsessions with success and progress was another issue entirely. She did her best to herd them towards the exit while fielding some of their unending questions.

As the door finally shut and locked behind the last uptight father who was on his phone the entire time, his adorably giggly daughter on his heels, she pressed her back against the cool glass door for a brief moment of release, letting loose a deep sigh of relief. With her hand still on the handle, she pushed off with a smile and started walking towards Ben.

“Hi!”

“Hi yourself. You’re glowing. And sweaty.”

She reached up on her tiptoes to give him a quick kiss and then wiped her hand across her still slightly sweaty forehead.

“You’re too kind. Any glow is probably from my own stink turned radioactive. I don’t even remember the last time I showered. That’s not bad, right?”

He shrugged his shoulders while sticking out his bottom lip and wrinkling his nose, considering her self-incriminating admission as he set the cooler down on the floor and opened it.

“I mean, I could’ve done without that information, but now I know we need to revisit some personal hygiene basics.”

She slugged him playfully in the arm as he pulled out a bottle of champagne from the cooler. A smirk came across her face as she placed her hands on her partially exposed hips.

The one giant, enormous benefit about teaching dance was that she was constantly comfortable. Her uniform for both of her jobs was a black tank top and black leggings. While she may have been constantly in a state of exhaustion, she was definitely living her best athleisure life.

“Champagne? What’s the occasion, officer Johnson?”

“Well, I’ve hardly seen you these past couple of weeks because you’ve been busting your ass doing what you love. Needless to say, it has been incredibly inspiring to watch you work so hard and be so much happier. I wanted to say thanks for being you, for being amazing.”

Her smile was so wide it hurt. A fierce, hot blush ran through her cheeks as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. She had been so caught up in herself over the past few weeks that when they did see each other, it was usually just enough time for her to unload her stress, eat, let her exhaustion catch up with her, and then pass right the fuck out.

They’d found time to do some normal couple-ish things, like go out to dinner, see a movie, embarrass themselves by ice skating at Central Park. But the outings were usually bookended by practice or by her desperate lusting for sleep.

In the dimmed light of the studio, as Ben started to take off his jacket and push up the sleeves on his long-sleeve shirt, her heart rate hitched in her chest. The thoughts and feelings of wanting Ben had only gotten stronger since they had started seeing each other. There had really not been a good time, a good place, a good moment. She was enjoying letting the feeling grow inside of her, letting it surge and recede as she got busy and stressed. But now, as he stood in front of her, starting to uncork the bottle of champagne, she reached out and stopped him.

He looked at her quizzically, and then grew concerned.

“You okay? You’re probably exhausted, huh? We can totally just—”

“No, no, not at all. Just, hold on.”

Taking the champagne from his hands, she gently set it down on the bench that lined the length of the wall next to them and walked slowly over to the panels of light switches, pulling them down to just outside of darkness. Before heading back to Ben, she quickly grabbed one of the foam floor mats and carefully laid it down in front of the mirrors, then pulled the curtains closed that lined the front windows facing the street. It was hard to think clearly with the obnoxious beating of her heart distracting her from her half-baked plan.

She approached him slowly, crossing the floor at an even, measured pace. Her limbs found different ballet positions as she made her way back to him, helping her center herself while releasing some of her nervous shaking. When she finally came to a stop in front of him, he remained motionless.

She didn’t know what the right move was, or what she should do. All she knew was what she actually wanted to do. And what she wanted to do was kiss Ben. Reaching up on her tiptoes, she placed a soft kiss on his lips. She pulled back momentarily, sliding her hands down his sides, feeling the hem of his shirt and gently tugging upwards.

The shirt fell to the floor along with a waft of the pure goodness that was his cologne and sweet, natural musk. The plan she had concocted in her head stalled. She didn’t know how to do this with someone you truly cared about, with someone you couldn’t dream of disappointing. There she stood, frozen in front of shirtless Ben, desperately trying to regain the nerve that had just slipped through her fingers. He had disarmed her.

She was just about to speak, to admit to her own nervousness, when Ben reached out and took her hand in his. He placed it on his bare chest, right over his heart. It was beating hard—just as fast and wildly as her own.

The ability he possessed to take her out of her own mind was baffling. She regained her mental footing as desire pulsed throughout her body. Leaning her torso against his bare chest, she spoke softly against his lips, brushing her own against them with each word she spoke.

“Take me, Ben. Please, take me.”

From that moment, she was lost in everything he did. The way his hand found its way onto her cheek, how he had moved them across the floor to the mirrors and barre, where he pushed his body into the curves of her own. This was the first time she would be with someone completely sober. Usually it was all just dulled, near numb senses. Always awkward fumbling, either too rough or too much swearing. It always involved the intense feeling of wanting it to be over, just waiting until whoever he was to be finished so she could go clean up in the bathroom and get out.

Everything Ben did pulled her farther into her own lust. Her hands roamed everywhere, grabbing onto his bare shoulders and following the contours of his arms. She pulled him into herself as hard as she could, trying to feel as much of his muscular body pressed against her as possible.

The last of her clothing fell to the floor, and Ben moved to lay her down onto the mat that she had placed by the mirrors. The darkness of the room blanketed their heated bodies, wrapping them in a cocoon of concealed quiet.

Nothing could have prepared her for how she would feel that night. If someone would have told her that they would both shed tears, that they would both cling to each other as if they were the last two people on earth, she would have told them to lay off the cheap paperback romance novels and go watch a good porno.

It took an incredible amount of courage to freefall into someone else’s life. Ben was the first man, the first person she had ever entirely trusted with her disfigured, tissue-paper-like heart with poor, patchy repair jobs of where people had torn right through.

Over the past few months, it seemed as though he was taking care to make sure all the misshapen seams and uneven edges were being put back together properly before seeing if she would leave it fully in his care. The moment came that night where she gave him her heart completely, and after she did, she was not the same anymore.

----------------------------------------

Ben, by some act of God, managed to persuade her to get dressed and into a cab during the wee hours of New York’s still young evening. While they were both perfectly content laying on the floor of the studio, talking quietly and exchanging lazy kisses between sipping on champagne from cheap plastic cups, they both knew it would be less than desirable to be naked on the floor for the early morning dance class. She dozed off in the warm cab, tucked under Ben’s arm. Her exhaustion had reached an all-time high.

Waking up in the early afternoon with a cat on her chest and a horribly dry mouth was a cruel welcome back into reality. Her joints were unbelievably stiff, and a few wince-worthy cracks popped from different places on her body as she attempted to stretch out and reluctantly greet the day. She managed to find her sore core strength and lifted herself into a sitting position. The same clothes from teaching class last night still clung to her body.

Reaching up to place a hand on her forehead and lean forward onto her legging-covered knees, she closed her eyes and shook her head side to side. After months and months of a slow, sometimes near unbearable, intimate climb towards having sex with Ben, she felt unreal. As she sat and thought about how it couldn’t have happened, how it must’ve been her own wild imagination, flashes of heat, skin and release poured over her mind.

A betraying squeal escaped her lips as she ran her hands over her eyes and into her messy hair. She felt like accepting an award for having accomplished such an unbelievable act. There was a part of her that wanted to go out onto the streets and exclaim to everyone that she had had sex with the most attractive man in the city, who was also a complete gentleman and near saintly. It made all of those relationships with selfish, womanizing men seem anomalies in an alternate universe.

As she sat in the dim light of her room that was still blocking out the afternoon sun with patched-up curtains, she thought back to what had led them to their monumental moment last night. Since meeting Ben, her life had been traveling at a pleasantly constant speed without any major hiccups or roadblocks. They were taking their time with each other, learning how they worked together while maintaining their individual lives. Now she was dancing full time, and was even starting to enjoy her time teaching wobbly children how to coordinate themselves through space.

Ben still felt unnerved by his career path. While he genuinely enjoyed the work he did as a cop, he was starting to constantly feel like it was time to get out. He routinely expressed how fortunate he was to not suffer through any major losses or traumas. Yet, there was also a force within himself that wanted him to push on further.

Around the station, there had been talks of a spot opening up on the elite NYPD SWAT team. Ben felt that before he got out for good, he at least wanted to try and make the squad. He was also keeping in contact with a good friend who operated his own construction company, keeping at least one other option relatively open.

Ben’s uncertainty and his steadily growing frustration within himself still felt surprisingly manageable. The idea of him putting his life more at risk was definitely weighing heavily on her mind. But somehow she knew Ben would make the right choice for himself, and he would tell her when he’d decided. He would do what he needed to do in order to satisfy his own drive. She would support either choice he made. Of course there were parts that wouldn’t be easy; there were parts that would inevitably add stress to their relationship. But being with Ben made the biggest stressors seem manageable.

She shook her head in an effort to clear away the sudden barrage of serious thoughts, finally getting herself up and out of bed, disrupting the napping cat in the process. Sure Laney had given the cat a proper name, but her disdain for the creature left it simply as “the cat” in her mind.

As she went over to her desk to draw open the curtains to let in the bright, near blinding spring light, she noticed the small stack of wrinkled papers sticking out from underneath a pile of famous dancer’s autobiographies.

While everything had been going so well with Ben, and she was able to sustain real happiness while keeping herself relatively together, she had ignored the notes that were being left for her at her apartment. They had begun appearing when Laney had moved out at the beginning of the month. The first one had appeared just inside the main door to the building, with her name printed by the strokes of a typewriter on a plain, off-white envelope.

Inside was a well worn piece of paper, full of wrinkles and seams. Miscellaneous smudges, even some splats of coffee, covered the small note. It read, “You look so well, the officer looks so good on you.” The note seemed so far off, so distant. Months had passed since the incident at the subway, since the bizarre disturbance at the restaurant. She immediately hid the first note away in her room, under the stack of books. Keep to yourself. There was no explanation for the note. She explained it away as simply one of her drugged up past flings trying to intentionally fuck with her.

Fighting off the paranoia had been easy at first. Her new job and relationship with Ben kept her damn busy. Plus, with trying to squeeze in visits with Laney, and unavoidably Greg, there was no time for her to dwell on that first note. It flitted away from her mind, and was completely lost to her under that solid stack of books.

As her relationship with Ben took off, it was surprisingly easy to throw herself fully at all the challenges in her life. She refused to waste her energy on the handful of nausea-inducing notes she'd received over the past few weeks. They were just from some asshole who was showing off their ability to be creepy. All bark, no bite.

There were moments when it was on the tip of her tongue, just breaths away from her paranoia spilling out into the air to either Ben or Laney. But she refused to let it interfere with her steadily changing life. It seemed too obvious a trap, too similar to the ugly memories of her bleak past.

So instead of folding the notes into her pocket to show to Ben later, she flung open the shades and blinked into the warm light. Today she would have the studio to herself. She had blocked off this Friday months ago to have time and space to herself to practice her could-be solo.

It had evolved multiple times already. From slow, intentional movement to rapid-fire, showy choreography. The music had started somber and was now a throwback to decades past, where the music reflected the vivaciousness of the time. She was eager to be alone in a space to start fleshing it out—what looked good in the mirrors and what needed to be further tweaked.

First a shower, then lunch, and finally off to the subway in the middle of the day where she would keep to herself. There was always a person in blue there now, ever since the night Ben had entered into her life. With a uniform there, she could relax. They would be able to keep people safe.

----------------------------------------

Working alone in the studio was more satisfying than she had dreamed. It allowed her to truly let loose and be as goofy and experimental as she pleased. Sweat was dripping off her body as she walked over to her duffel bag to grab a towel along with a few long gulps of water. The room was finally silent, heavy with humidity after hours of having her flapper-era tune on repeat.

It was a far cry from her usual, rather slow, mildly depressing alternative or sometimes dance-pop music preferences. This was so unexpected from her, it was borderline embarrassing. But the moves came to her effortlessly as she worked through the routine. It all fit together without any second guessing. She felt confident that the routine would be so absolutely shocking and energetic to the troupe director that she would have to select it for the show.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Her mood was light and optimistic as she dried off her sweat-soaked body while beginning to gather up her things. It wasn’t until she had on her jacket and sneakers, her duffel bag slung over her shoulder, that she finally checked her phone. 14 missed calls. Her heart took off running, feeding off the adrenaline high she was already experiencing from hours of dancing. Scrolling through the list of calls, only one of them was from Ben, the rest from … Greg?

With shaking fingers she quickly pushed call and pressed her phone up to her still sweaty ear. Laney was in trouble. She knew things would have to fall through at some point. But not Laney. She was too sweet, too innocently herself. One of her hands flew up to her forehead as the phone kept ringing. Her stomach gave a mighty churn as it considered making her throw up bile and water.

“Anna—thank god you finally called.”

“Is Laney ok?”

“Laney? Laney is fine, Anna, just fine. It’s Ben.”

An intake of breath hitched in her throat, a disjointed gasp escaping from her lips. Her hand slid slowly from her forehead down to her chest. She had never imagined this phone call. Nothing could have happened to Ben.

How could anything happen to the one good man that had ever stumbled into her life? The one man who was kind to everyone, the epitome of a gentleman? Just as she was starting to grab a hold of something tangible, something that was building her up instead of tearing her to pieces, it was starting to fall apart.

“What happened?” Her voice was a small, raspy sound. Feeble.

“Anna, he was shot. He got called up to SWAT this afternoon. I heard from a friend who happened to be working the beat. The whole thing was a mess. Drug raid gone bad. Not enough intel and too … ”

As he talked she rushed out of the studio, locking the door behind her and heading out of the building and onto the sidewalk to hail a cab. She started furiously waving her arm in the air, countless vacant cabs passing her as if she were invisible.

“Where is he?”

“The injured are at New York Pres downtown. At least that’s what the news said. Anna do you need— ”

“I’m getting a cab right now. Gotta go.”

“Okay, Anna. Keep us po—”

Hanging up in the middle of his sentence, a flurry of swearing spilled out from under her breath at all the cabs that continued to whizz past her. Dark had already settled over the city, and they were all headed downtown to pick up Friday night boozers and workaholics. After at least a dozen cabs had passed her, she was no longer content to wait patiently as Ben could be laying dying.

She stepped out in front of a cab that was lit and watched satisfyingly as it screeched to a halt just inches in front of her kneecaps. Slamming a fist on the hood for good measure, she slid into the backseat quickly and barked out the hospital’s name over the loud complaints of the driver.

“If you don’t drive as fast as humanly possible, I will have every cop in the city hounding your ass and fining you for that expired permit.”

Her foot thumped anxiously against the floor of the cab as she thought about what could be waiting for her at the hospital. Did he get shot in the arm? In the leg? Had it hit an artery? Did it pierce through his Kevlar?

Nausea surged through her as the speed mixed with erratic stopping and turning made her head throb. She placed a hand on her forehead and closed her eyes. All she could see was Ben. Not shot Ben. Ben from last night.

Big, heavy tears flowed out of her clenched eyes. There was no point of reference for this feeling. She felt like something was trying to be taken away from her, like she was losing a grip on what she had worked so hard to maintain and carefully nurture over the past few months. There had never been an unknown as big as the one she was walking into right now. This was a brand new nightmare, a nightmare she was entering blindly.

Just as she was about to open her eyes and tell the cab driver to figure out a way to drive faster, the cab came to a lurching halt in front of the ER. She quickly rummaged through her duffle bag and threw some random cash into the front seat as she flew out onto the busy sidewalk, clipping a few people with her duffel bag and shoulder as she rushed through the sliding glass doors and into the lobby. The cab driver’s yells from behind her disappeared with the swoosh of the automatic doors closing.

Wiping the few remaining tears from her face with the back of her hand, she took a deep, shaking breath as she tried to collect herself. There was a news crew at the desk, no doubt trying to get more information that would be fully denied to them, and she didn’t hesitate to push through the suited scavengers to get to the nurse manning the desk.

She placed her shaking hands down firmly on the desk and looked the nurse directly in the eye. Her voice trembled as she spoke, betraying her need to be strong willed and undeniable.

“Ben Johnson. I need to see Ben Johnson. Where is he?”

“Your name, mam’?”

“Anna Weston.”

“I have a Spitfire Weston written down here as an authorized visitor, is that you mam’?”

His fucking joke nick name for her. She was going to be sick.

“Yes, yes that’s me. Where is he?”

“I’ll need to see an I.D. first, mam’.”

Rifling through her duffel bag, she quickly yanked out her wallet and handed over her I.D. with a shaking arm. Time stopped as the nurse took her sweet time looking at the front, then the back, then the front again. It was unfortunate that she couldn’t just throw money at the nurse like she had with the cabbie. Every fiber of her being wanted to yank back her I.D. and start off down the hallway on her own.

“Here is your visitor badge, mam’. Please go check in at the post-op desk down the hallway to your right.”

Grabbing the badge, she took off down the hallway where the monotoned nurse had pointed with her slow, lazy hand. After speaking with the nurse at the post-op station, she was informed that Ben was still in surgery. He could not tell her the extent of his injuries or if his condition was critical. The only real information she received was that he should be out of surgery soon. She would need to wait.

One of the nurses helped her to the gift shop and cafeteria area. After she had found out she could still not see Ben, a numbness washed over her, and she could not find it within herself to respond to the nurse asking if she was okay.

The nurse patted her arm gently as she left her to her own devices in front of the gift shop. None of this seemed real. At that moment, she felt like she was living someone else’s life. Her anxiety was crippling her ability to form thoughts or physically move from her spot in the middle of the hallway.

A glimmer caught her eye as she blinked dazedly at her surroundings. It was a balloon, one with a bright yellow sun with sunglasses wearing a huge smile with happily colored letters that read Get Well Soon! Her mind connected to her feet and walked her into the store, where she could gaze up at the plethora of obnoxiously colored, well-wishing balloons. She eyed each one of them intently while she wondered what Ben would like about each one.

She settled on one that featured a monkey hanging upside down from a tree branch with the phrase ‘Hang in There!’ next to it in big bubble letters. The monkey was cute, and they had been Ben’s favorite exhibit at the zoo. He loved watching them swing around in the treetops, moving effortlessly and having silly interactions with one another. With a smirk, he commented on how they reminded him of her, with her long limbs and ability to move so effortlessly but still be, as he had put it, his “cute goofy doof”.

Reaching up above her head, she unclipped the balloon from the metal rack and grasped it firmly in her clammy palm. The adjacent wall was full of stuffed animals. She walked over to it slowly while weaving through a few other people who were browsing for items to try and help ease the pain of their loved ones. A decently sized monkey sat in the middle of the shelf, a bandage over one cheek and another around one of its arms. She grabbed it gingerly and tucked it under her arm.

The cashier commented on how cute her monkey-themed items were, but all she could manage was a small nod in return. She clipped the balloon to the monkey’s hand and wandered across the hallway to the glow of a few vending machines. Popping a few dollars in, she grabbed herself an apple juice and a bag of chocolate chip cookies. The last thing she had eaten was a small granola bar she’d scarfed down before heading to the studio. She wasn’t hungry, but the act of buying the food had burned a few more seconds of the seemingly endless waiting.

She returned to the nearly empty waiting room and sat down in an old, uncomfortable chair in the corner. Placing the monkey beside her, she stared down at the juice and bag of cookies in her lap. Tiredness nagged at her eyelids, but her anxiety kept them peeled open. Her foot moved up and down rapidly as she settled into staring at the well-worn carpet. Just as she was about to reach up and give her straining eyes a fierce rub, a nurse broke the painful veil of silence that blanketed the room.

“Miss? Are you waiting for Ben Johnson?”

She nearly choked on sudden intake of breath through her lips. Fresh anxiety ravished her body.

“Yes I am.”

“He’s out of surgery and in recovery. If you’ll follow me, I’ll bring you to him.”

Gathering the balloon-holding monkey and her uneaten food, she crossed the room quickly and trailed the nurse down the busy hallway. She stopped outside of room 410C. Suddenly she felt lightheaded. She closed her eyes briefly as the nurse spoke.

“He’s been out of surgery for a little while now. Hopefully he’ll be awake soon. Use the call button if you need anything.”

The nurse held open the door for her to walk inside the room. She walked forward cautiously, the room bathed in the sterile glow of fluorescent lights. Ben laid in a hospital bed just a few feet to her left. She jumped slightly as the nurse shut the door behind her. Tears welled in her eyes as she took in what she had so feverishly been imagining over the past hour. Countless machines stood around the bed, hooked into Ben’s body at various places. Her knees nearly buckled at the sight.

She crossed the room with measured steps and placed everything she was holding down on the table next to Ben’s bed. Waiting until she meticulously set everything down, she took a deep breath and finally turned to look at Ben up close. Varying shades of bruises covered his face, along with a cut that stemmed from the bottom of his lip. Dried blood was still caked over his forehead and into his tousled, dirty hair. More scrapes and blood covered his lightly freckled arms, which were laid out lifelessly over the covers.

Grief began to cripple her. She managed to grab a chair from behind her and gently pulled it up next to the bed before she collapsed on the shiny tile floor. Sitting at a measured distance, she reached out her shaking hand to place on top of his, which was now adorned with a vitals monitor on one of his fingers and a few bandages. As soon as she touched his unresponsive hand, she shot up and out of the chair and quickly raced towards the window across the room.

Her hand covered her mouth, tears streaking down her face. Foreign, bone rattling sobs shook her whole body. The weight of everything, the situation, the room, the universe, was crushing down on her. It had been lurking in her mind since she had spoken to Greg just hours ago. It had sat in the seat next to her in the cab. It had followed her around the hospital. And now, as she tried to provide the slightest bit of comfort to Ben, it reached into her chest and squeezed its way around her heart.

Short, jagged breaths were spilling out between her chapped lips. Memories from her disjointed past surged and began to mingle with her current grief. There had never been another person besides her at the center of this kind of unraveling. She didn’t know how to care for Ben. She didn’t know what he needed. It had been so simple up until now. He was making her life clearer, filling it with laughter and new experiences. She had slowly learned to start to depend on Ben, because he hadn’t let her down yet.

Her heart slammed against her chest as she leaned against the ledge of the window for support. Just the thought of looking over at Ben was pumping more anxiety into her bloodstream. She should have told Greg to come. Someone else should be here for Ben. This was not the time for her to be thinking about herself. It wasn’t fair to Ben. She’d call Laney. She would understand, or at least try to understand. She needed to talk to someone.

With a deep breath and her eyes still clouded with tears, she turned herself slowly towards the door and took one step. She froze in place as Ben began to stir. He lifted each one of his hands while rolling his head slowly back and forth.

Oh no. She felt like a deer caught in headlights. She was just about to try and temporarily figure this out, so neither of them would have to endure what was now inevitably coming.

Running a hand through her hair, she finished the walk over to Ben’s beside. She could now see his bloodshot green eyes, although just slightly, as she noticed how swollen his face had become. She folded her arms in front of her chest and looked down at him through pools of tears.

“Hi.”

“Boy, am I glad to see you.”

She let out a nervous laugh and blinked furiously at the relentless tears that clouded her vision. There was a moment of heavy silence as she racked her brain for the right thing to say. All she wanted to do was talk about herself. She was overwhelmed by her own empathetic shortcomings.

“It’s not as bad as it looks, I promise.”

His statement made way for one of the questions that had been nagging at her mind since Greg had called her with the news. It rushed from her mouth in a tight, croaky voice that was choked with her crying.

“What happened?”

She looked on as he swallowed while closing his eyes briefly. As his glassy, still drugged eyes looked up at her from the bed, she grew even more uncomfortable. Keeping her arms across her chest, she shifted her weight from foot to foot and glanced down at her shoes while she awaited his response. With a deep inhale that was labored and raspy, Ben began to speak.

“This morning, it was announced that a spot had finally opened up on the SWAT squad. A call came in, and they were short a man. It was considered my interview. It was a drug raid that had gone south quickly with intelligence. They got in too deep and needed to be bailed out.”

He paused briefly and closed his eyes, causing a crease to form between his brows. Suddenly she felt the urge to reach out and run her hand across his forehead, into his mussed brown hair. As her arm twitched to life, he began to speak again. She squeezed her own arm tightly, keeping it firmly crossed against her chest, and swallowed against her dry throat.

“Just as we made our way inside, one of the intelligence guys tried to gain some ground. We weren’t ready yet. We weren’t in position. In an effort to cover his ass I tried to run up to cover him. That’s when I got flashbanged on accident, and got shot right in the thigh. Missed my artery. Barely. The guy whose ass I was trying to cover dragged me outta there.”

Any color she had left in her cheeks was drained as he finished speaking. She closed her eyes tightly as images flowed through her mind of what had happened. Lightheadedness surged through her skull as she dropped her forehead into the palm of her hand.

This was the first time Ben’s job had lived up to its dangerous nature. There had been multiple conversations about his career path in the past week. They had both agreed that it would be far too dangerous, too stressful for both of them, if he were to accept a position with the SWAT team. He had said he would let her know when he made a decision.

“Anna I know that this is a lot—”

She lifted her head quickly and kept her arms firmly against her chest. Tension and the unfamiliar pain of Ben’s lie were making her shake. The tears that spilled now were hot and tinged with frustration. Her strained, tight-lipped words plowed through the softness his voice had carved out in the room.

“Just yesterday we talked about how you were still unsure. You said you’d tell me when you had decided. Is this your way of telling me?”

He was attempting to sit up in his bed, opening his mouth to begin his reply when suddenly the door opened behind them. In filtered members of the force. Some were cops she recognized, others were no doubt SWAT officers that she had never met before. She stepped away from Ben’s bedside towards the wall while quickly trying to smooth over her clothes and running the back of her hand under each eye.

“There he is! First day on the job and look at what—oh shit, I’m sorry. We didn’t mean to interrupt.”

She made eye contact with the unfamiliar officer and offered a light response.

“No worries. I was actually just on my way out—”

“No, she’s not. Thanks for coming, guys. I appreciate it, I really do, but I’m kind of in the middle of something here.”

They all looked around at each other with raised eyebrows. A few of them began to set down flowers and other get-well gifts down on the table before leaving while giving Ben waves and smiles.

On top of feeling angry, sad and deceived, she now felt her cheeks flush red with embarrassment. Ben had more good people in his corner than she had ever known in her entire twenty nine years of life. The lone cop who had spoken looked briefly between her and Ben before patting Ben’s good leg.

“You let me know if you guys need anything, alright?”

“Thanks, Jeff. Will do.”

The two nodded to each other before Jeff turned to join his comrades in the hallway. He looked at her briefly, understanding painted across his face as he pulled his lips into a tight smile. It took her by surprise. It took Ben a few tries to get her attention as she stared after the closed door.

“Anna. Come here. Please.”

A tired, exasperated sigh left her lips as she stepped forward to retake her place in the chair by Ben’s beside. He had managed to sit himself upright and had turned his torso towards her. She stared down at her clasped hands in her lap. She did not want to be here anymore. She wanted to go home and think about anything else besides hospitals, cops or feelings.

“Can you give me your hand, Anna?”

She finally looked up to find Ben’s open, empty hand laying in front of her on the bed. With a hard swallow, she raised her unsteady hand and gently laid it down on Ben’s. He closed his fingers around hers, which seemed quite small and incapable compared to his own scratched, calloused hands. She kept her eyes on their held hands and attempted to take even breaths as her heart rate soared.

“Come on, Anna. Look at me. I know I’m beat up but I can’t be that hard on the eyes.”

His attempt at humor broke through some of her stress, and she managed a small smirk as she looked up at him with glassy eyes. A similar smirk was spread across his own dry lips. He ran his thumb across the back of her hand as he looked her in the eyes and began to speak.

“I am so sorry for what I did today. I should not have made a snap decision without considering you first. I’m not used to thinking about other people when I make career choices. It’s no excuse, but I’m trying to learn on the fly. All I could think about when I got hit was you. How bad I had hurt you by not telling you. How guilty I felt for breaking a promise. I made a mistake and I am so, so sorry. But there was something else I realized after I was shot. I realized I, that I—”

A few tears spilled over from the edges of his eyes as he placed his other hand on top of hers. The presence of the IV and other bandages tugged her back towards her feelings of helplessness that were barely being suppressed.

“Anna, I’m in love—”

“Don’t.”

“I have to, Anna. I have to say it, because it’s true. I’m in love with you.”

Her head dropped instantly. Staring down at her lap, she tried to focus on her breathing and remaining calm. Ben squeezed her hand, the sound of the medical machines filling her ears. Fight, flight. Fight, flight. Springing up from the chair, she peeled her hand from between Ben’s and grabbed her bag from the table.

“Anna, don’t do this. Come on, please don’t leave.”

His pleas intermingled with his tears. Tears poured from her eyes as he yelled after her. She was out the door and down the hallway. Some of the cops that had left his room just minutes ago were waiting near his door. They said nothing as she passed them. Her feet found the exit without the help of her mind. The night air hit her face and she let out a gasp. She took in huge, gulping breaths as she walked down the sidewalk. It was a few miles walk to her apartment. She didn’t mind.

The chilly air cooled her hot skin. The brisk, blustering wind helped to dry her tears. With each step she got closer to her former self, and left more of her anxiety behind. Deep breaths of air, even though it wasn’t exactly fresh, calmed her throbbing skull. Her phone vibrated in her pocket. Looking up, she blinked at the familiar surroundings. Somehow her feet had already carried her a mile. She was almost to her apartment. The glowing screen on her phone read Greg. She held the button on the side until it went dark. Off. If only she had a similar button. Off.

She picked up the pace and lifted her head up to feel the cold night air blow directly into her face. It was oddly comforting to be bathed in the sickly yellow glow of the streetlights. A few people passed her now and then. Most of them were gleeful couples who were laughing and intoxicated by the freedom of Friday night and the alcohol they had no doubt been enjoying. After all, it was now the early hours of Saturday morning.

It didn’t strike her as alarming when she saw someone standing in front of her building. Homeless people often rifled through their trash, looking for aluminum cans or half smoked cigarettes. She focused on turning onto the small sidewalk that led up to the cement steps to her building. But it would not be that easy. Just like everything else tonight, she could not just simply walk up to her building and slip inside unnoticed.

“Anna Weston. Anna Weston! Where is he? Where’s the lucky man?”

She didn’t turn around to see who it was. Her heart race hitched as she struggled to find her keys in her duffel bag. There were footsteps behind her. Whoever had been yelling at her was now approaching her with an even, heavy pace. Finally her shaking hands made contact with the metal of her keys, and she struggled to jam the right key into the lock.

“I didn’t think it would be this easy. That lucky man. Where is he?”

Suddenly she was falling through the threshold as the key finally turned in the lock. She slammed the heavy wood door shut behind her, locking it before taking the stairs two at a time. Getting her own door open was surprisingly much easier. Maybe because the space between herself and whoever was trying to fuck with her outside was greater. After locking all three locks on the door, she let her duffel bag fall to the ground. Her hands rested on her forehead. They were met with thick, cold sweat.

Nausea swelled inside of her. She immediately ran for the bathroom. She expelled what little there was inside of her stomach. There was a moment, in between lurching retches, where she noticed she had started to feel slightly better. But it was shortly after that fleeting thought that she felt herself sliding down onto the floor, exhausted. The blackness of sleep began to creep into her vision, and she found comfort in the fact that she was finally away from the world and all of its complications.