“No, he’s bi. Remember that pin on his backpack?”
It was one thing to realize he had a crush on someone, a boy, but then to see him wearing the bi flag out and proud— This wasn’t just some guy he found attractive; this was someone who could possibly—theoretically—be attainable.
He also remembered seeing Marcus with a split lip to match John Richards’s black eye, and the story he’d heard from some of his teammates. John had called Marcus a name, and Marcus took a swing at him. It was surreal listening to the other guys talk about the incident. He wondered what they’d say if it had been him in that position. If they’d known.
In the end, he stayed quiet, keeping his secret close. The other guys talked like they didn’t approve of what John said, but they didn’t do anything about it either. It had left him feeling unsettled for days.
“Oh, right.” Ryan took a drink of water. “I don’t think she’s his girlfriend, though.”
“Are you sure? They looked really close.” He hesitated, bracing himself for the teasing. “I think she was flirting with me.”
Ryan’s laugh was so loud people turned to look at him. “Seriously?”
“Shut up.”
“How would you even know?”
Ben glared at him, arms crossed. He should have known. “I can tell when someone’s flirting with me.”
Ryan gave him a sideways look. “Are you sure?”
Ben kicked his chair. He could tell when a girl was flirting with him. It happened now and then, especially at away games when they didn’t know who he was except for the “C” on his blue and silver jersey and how he filled out his uniform. He was usually able to sidestep them without hurting any feelings. The worst part was enduring the chirping from his teammates afterward. Their teasing was harmless, but it left him feeling like he was lying to the people he was supposed to trust the most.
“How much longer do you want to stay?” Ben held up his hand to head off a sigh of frustration. “I’m just asking. I’m fine hanging out for a while.”
Ryan shrugged. “We can leave if you want.” He checked the time on his phone. “Wow. You made it over an hour.” He reached over to ruffle Ben’s hair. “I’m so proud.”
Ben batted his hand away. “Ass. I’m fine with whatever.”
Ryan looked around at the people in the backyard and then leaned his head back, looking up at the night sky. “Eh. We can go. Want to swing in somewhere and get milkshakes? It’s a cheat day, right?”
“Yeah. Let’s do that.”
As they got up to leave, he saw Marcus standing on the edge of a group of people sitting in a circle of chairs. He was laughing at something, his face bright, and Ben found he couldn’t look away. Just then, Marcus glanced his way, and their eyes met for a long moment before Marcus turned away again, his attention back on the group.
Ryan elbowed Ben. “Hello. Earth to Bennie-boy.” He held out his keys. “I asked if you were going to drive.” He followed the line of Ben’s gaze. “Oh.” A smile bloomed on his face. “Look, if you want to stay—”
“Nope. Let’s go.” Ben snatched the keys out of Ryan’s hand and led the way back to the car. It was impossible to even think about taking a step like that.
They slipped into the car, and Ben took a few deep breaths before turning the key.
“You sure you’re okay?” Ryan was more patient than Ben’s actual family when it came to his fear of driving.
“I’m fine.” Ben adjusted the mirrors and carefully backed out, probably taking more time than was strictly necessary. But Ryan left him alone, waiting until they were on the main road before saying another word.
“So.” Ryan was leaning his head against the window. “Marcus spoke to you, and you survived.”
Ben glanced at him. “Do we have to talk about this?” It came out more harshly than he meant it to, but Ryan wasn’t fazed in the slightest.
Ryan shrugged. “I think you need to.”
Ben drove in silence for a few moments before conceding that Ryan was right. He didn’t have anyone else to talk to, and the privacy the car provided wasn’t something to be wasted. He drew in a deep breath. “I don’t know what to do.”
“I know.” It was something they’d discussed before. “You know you don’t have to do anything, right?” Ryan turned to look at him, the glow from the streetlights skimming across his face. “I mean, what are you going to do when you go to college?”
Ben fell silent, concentrating on the road in front of him. “I don’t know.” College would allow him a fresh start with people who didn’t know him. He’d be a much smaller fish in a larger pond and wouldn’t draw nearly as much attention. “College might work. Maybe.”
“Maybe?” Ryan rolled his eyes when Ben took a chance and glanced at him. “I’m not trying to push you into making a decision right this second, but—” He picked at the hem of his T-shirt, his fidgeting familiar in a way that only came from years of living in each other’s pockets.
“But you are pushing me to make a decision.”
“No. Am I?” Ryan huffed out a sigh of frustration. “The point is, you can’t keep this up.” He drowned out Ben’s irritated growl. “Are you going to just, I don’t know, be alone for the rest of your life?” Ryan sounded upset. “I’m sorry, Benny. But as much as I would love to be your for-always platonic life partner—” He took in a shaky breath. “We’re not going to live down the street from each other forever.”
Ben pulled to a stop at a red light and stared at Ryan. He knew Ryan worried about him because that’s what he did. He’d mother-henned Ben when he was sick, or hurt, or whatever. But this was different. And Ben just wasn’t ready.
He tightened his hands on the wheel. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
“That doesn’t mean I won’t.” Ryan scrubbed a hand over his face, and Ben felt a little guilty. He gritted his teeth as the light turned green. He was suddenly on edge from the combination of the conversation and having to drive.
“Can we just not talk until we get back? Please?”
“Fine.” Ryan slumped in his seat, pressing his forehead against the glass. They rode in sullen silence the rest of the way, milkshakes forgotten.
HE AND RYAN parted with a shaky truce, but that wasn’t going to be the last time they’d have that argument. Once Ryan had an idea in his head, there wasn’t anything that could get him to let it go. That left Ben in desperate need of something to get his mind off their pseudo-fight.
It wasn’t until Ben was walking home from Ryan’s house that he remembered the box Gran had given him.
The house was quiet, with everyone having retreated to their own rooms to watch TV or crash after a long day. He probably should have been tired, but he was weirdly wired and wide-awake as he let himself in. He was also starving.
Ben made himself a sandwich and a glass of milk and went up to his room, ready to settle in for the night. Once inside, he set down the sandwich and closed the door. The box was on his nightstand. He picked it up, running a finger over the initials engraved on the lid. WLH. William Leonard Harris. Biscuit had made himself at home in his usual spot at the end of the bed so Ben sat down carefully, leaning against the headboard.
The box was held shut with a simple old brass latch that took a few seconds of careful effort for Ben to get open. It was only a few inches deep, just enough room for the few items inside. He wrinkled his nose at the musty smell.
A smaller flat case took up a good portion of the space, so he took that out first. It looked like it was in surprisingly good shape, although the tiny hinges creaked when he opened it. It simply said “Purple Heart” on the lid, and the medal, shiny and perfectly preserved, was exactly what was inside. He was afraid to touch it at first, a little bit in awe, but after a minute, he did anyway.
The award case looked like it had never been opened.
The medal had shifted in the box, and Ben carefully moved it with the tip of a finger, turning it over where it read “For Military Me
rit” on the back. He knew what that meant, of course. The person that had earned the medal had been either wounded or killed in action. And William Leonard Harris had died during the war.
He gingerly straightened the medal, closed its case, and set it to the side. There was more inside the wooden box. A small envelope had been resting under the medal case, and it clinked with the sound of something metallic when he picked it up. He opened it and a chain with a single military dog tag fell out into his palm. The second one that would normally have been attached by a shorter chain was missing. He looked in the envelope to make sure it hadn’t come detached and then checked inside the wooden box to see if it was loose in there. It was definitely missing.
The tag was scratched but clean; someone had obviously taken care of it before putting it into storage. The stamped letters were clear, and he ran his finger over them. William L. Harris. It listed the usual information: serial number, immunizations, blood type, and religion. On impulse, Ben put the chain around his neck, the tag hanging down to the middle of his chest.
At the bottom of the box was a small stack of letters. They were tied together with a frayed piece of twine that looked like it would come apart as soon as he touched it. He picked up the small stack of envelopes, and the twine parted easily under his fingers. Just like with an old book, the smell of musty paper was strong. The envelopes were still sealed, except for one, or at least they had been. The flaps had started to peel up from age, but they oddly still appeared unopened and unread.
He slid the letter out of the open envelope and set the others to the side. The ink had started to fade, but Ben could read the neatly written words easily:
My darling,
It’s been two days, and already I miss you terribly. The boys that I’ve met so far in training are good company, but nothing compared to you. Though I do think McMillan could give you a run for your money.
It was obviously a letter home to a wife or girlfriend. It went on to tell a funny story involving McMillan and a chicken that had wandered on base. The absolute fondness for whoever it was written to was clear in every word. He got to the bottom, and it was signed:
Always,
Your Will
Ben turned it over, but that was it. It was a short little note, taking up only one side of the page. The envelope that he’d taken it from was blank except for a small E sketched in the top left corner, so faded he could barely make it out. He flipped through the other sealed envelopes, and they were all the same. No address or postmark, but all of them had a small, neatly written E in the corner. Who was “E”?
Ben surprised himself with a jaw-cracking yawn. The day was finally catching up with him, and the mystery of the letters would have to wait for another time. He carefully put everything back, except for the chain that hung around his neck. Gran wouldn’t mind if he kept it out, as long as he was careful. It would be cool to show it to Ryan, anyway.
Ben felt a small twinge for getting lost in the contents of the box instead of worrying about their sort-of fight. It was the only important thing they’d ever disagreed on.
The box went back on the dresser for later. He closed his hand around the solitary dog tag for a moment before he pulled the chain over his head and laid it gently on the nightstand in a little pile of clinking chain for safekeeping…right next to the plate with the sandwich he’d forgotten to eat.
He ate his sandwich and drank his milk, turning over the argument in his mind. He and Ryan disagreed all the time, but they never argued about anything important. Ben sighed heavily, and Biscuit raised his head to look at him.
“It’s none of his business, right?” Biscuit blinked at him, judging him in the way that only cats could. “I mean, it’s my life. If I don’t want to come out until after graduation, then that’s my choice.” Blink, blink. “But I know he worries.” Biscuit yawned and curled up so that his tail covered his nose. Ben had to laugh. “Thanks a lot.”
His phone pinged from somewhere. Ben looked around, not seeing it, and felt in his pockets. Nothing. It pinged again for an unread text, and he realized he was sitting on it.
Ryan: sorry
Ben felt another wave of guilt. He’d made Ryan feel bad, when all he was doing was trying to take care of him the way he always had. But if he apologized now and left it there, they’d go round and round in circles. He had to get them to move on.
Ben: Make it up to me by getting your lazy ass up for a run tomorrow.
Ben looked at the time. He still had plenty of time to get a good night’s sleep.
Ryan: FINE
Ben laughed to himself. He flicked off the light before stripping down to his boxers and crawling into bed. The morning would come soon enough.
Chapter Three
BEN JERKED AWAKE to insistent beeping. Not the alarm—text alerts. He groped for the phone on his nightstand and thumbed it on.
Ryan: BEN
Ryan: BEN
Ryan: GET UP ASSHOLE
Ryan: BEN
Ryan: BEN
Ryan: BEN
He groaned and dropped the phone. It was literally two minutes before his alarm was supposed to go off, and Ryan was actually early for once. He lay back down and closed his eyes, just starting to doze off when his phone pinged again. And again.
Ben: OMG STOP
Ryan: :)
Ben threw the covers back and got up, yanking open a drawer to dig out some shorts and a shirt. After putting them on, he grabbed his running shoes, and quietly made his way down the stairs. He snatched two bananas from the bowl on the kitchen counter and stopped to tie his shoes. Ryan’s silhouette was there, through the frosted glass of the door, pacing back and forth as he waited. Ben took his battered Flyers hat off the hook by the door and let himself out.
The heat of the day was still hours away. Ryan gave him a huge grin, and Ben mock-glared at him. Ryan was probably still feeling guilty about their fight and was going to be overly obnoxious to make up for it. Ben tossed him one of the bananas, and they sat on the porch steps to eat them.
“We okay?” Ryan said it casually between bites, but Ben knew he was really worried.
“We’re cool.” Ben took the peels and tiptoed back into the kitchen to throw them in the compost bucket. Ryan was waiting at the bottom of the steps when he came back out. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.” They started out at an easy jog. Ryan was in decent shape, but he didn’t have Ben’s training or stamina. It didn’t help matters that they were both competitive, and he’d do his damnedest to keep up, so Ben would have to take it easy on him without him realizing. That didn’t mean he couldn’t mess with him first.
Ben turned around, jogging backward. “See ya!” He turned around and sprinted off, ignoring Ryan’s shouted curse. He kept it up for a few more seconds, until he could hear Ryan pounding up behind him. Then he slowed down to a more reasonable pace and braced himself for the incoming shoulder check.
“You,” Ryan panted, “are a dick, and I hate you.”
Ben cackled and kept running.
BY THE TIME they got back, Ben’s mom was up and cooking breakfast. While not quite the early bird that Ben was, she was a close second. She snorted at Ryan’s dramatic flop onto a kitchen chair and automatically went to the fridge to get bottles of water, handing them both to Ben. He tossed one to Ryan as she went back to the stove.
“What did you do to him?”
Ben shrugged and hopped up on the counter. She gave him a look, and he got back down, rolling his eyes. “It was just a run.”
“You call that a run?” Ryan had gulped down some of the water and was looking a little more human. “That was torture.”
“Nah. It means you need to do it more.” In reality, Ben hoped Ryan might join him more often. No matter how much they joked and teased each other, it was nice having company.
Ryan gave him a sunny grin. “Whatever, man.” Ben was relieved that the run and time spent together had put them back on firm ground again.
; “You boys stink.” Ben’s mom checked on the bacon in the oven, doubling up with the addition of another teenage mouth to feed. “Go shower. Ryan, you have plenty of time to run home before breakfast is ready.”
Ryan drank the rest of his water and threw the bottle into the recycling bin. “I don’t want to hear the word ‘run’ ever again.” He started to throw an arm over her shoulders and she warned him off with a spatula and a wrinkled nose. “All right, all right, I’m going.”
“Hurry, before the horde descends.” She winked at him. “And by the horde, I mean Ben.”
“Thanks a lot, Mom.” Ben bumped Ryan’s shoulder before heading upstairs. His mom was right; he really did stink.
BEN WAS DRYING his hair with a towel when he saw the dog tag where he’d left it on his nightstand. The slight weight of it dangled from his fingers when he picked it up and put the chain over his head, thinking about the letter he’d read the night before. He thought briefly about sharing it with Ryan but wanted to know more first—wanted to discover more about the man who hadn’t come home.
Voices from downstairs proved that his dad and Beth were up, and he quickly pulled on his clothes. Suddenly starving, his stomach grumbled as it tried to turn itself inside out at the smell of bacon. He was reaching for the doorknob when a plaintive meow stopped him in his tracks. Ben opened the door to find Biscuit sitting in the middle of the hallway, staring up at him with hopeful eyes. He swept the cat up, cradling him as he went downstairs, and set him down when he started to squirm. Ryan was just coming in the front door, and that dumb cat loved him for some reason.
“Biscuit!” Ryan’s voice was hilariously high-pitched as he greeted the cat, and Ben could hear Biscuit purring from across the room. “Come see me, kitty, come here.” The cat practically leapt into Ryan’s arms and started rubbing his face against Ryan’s chin. Ben stood there, arms crossed, until Ryan noticed him. “What?”
Ben shook his head and started toward the kitchen. “One day I’m going to film that and hold it over your head for the rest of your life.”
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