Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
“Good luck,” he said, doing none of those things, not even sure if that was the right phrase.
“He doesn’t need it.” Carol, who was tall with graying braids, laughed as Maddox and Vanessa walked back down the aisle. “You must not have heard Mad sing before.”
Was it that obvious? And why did these people get to give Maddox a nickname Ben had been so sure he was the only one to use? And why did he care? “He sings when he cooks at home sometimes,” he said, stupidly.
“Oh! You’re the roommate!” Carol crowed, using same overexcited speech patterns as her partner.
“Yeah.” Ben shrugged, then immediately regretted the motion. His shoulder was still tight from yesterday. He guessed roommate was what he was, and why that made his teeth hurt, he couldn’t say.
“He talks about you all the time.”
“Yeah?” Now this Ben wanted to know about. Carol looked like she might have said more, but organ music started up and she whirled to face the front.
The choir filtered into the loft—no robes like on TV, and far more tattoos and colored hair. Ben didn’t pay much attention to the opening of the service, eyes on Maddox. He tried to see if he could make out Maddox’s voice when the choir sang with the congregation, but his ear wasn’t that good.
He was almost—but not quite—dozing off when finally Maddox and Vanessa stepped out of the choir loft and came forward as the ushers passed offering plates. Vanessa helped Maddox get situated on a tall stool with his guitar. And then...Maddox created magic. There was no other word for it.
Handsome and charismatic with a distinctive raspy baritone, he captivated everyone, including Ben. Maybe especially Ben. He had heard him hum for well over a decade, heard him sing softly while baking the past few years living together, but he’d never heard him. Not like this. Never seen him like this either. He exuded more confidence than Ben had seen, even on a rifle range. He’s really good.
It was weird too, that Maddox had this whole life apart from the teams that Ben hadn’t known anything about. All these people knew this side of Maddox, had seen this before, knew him as Maddox-the-musician and Maddox-the-baker but not Maddox-the-SEAL, which was the only way Ben really knew how to think of his friend. It was...humbling, presented with such unequivocal evidence that Maddox was more than Ben had given him credit for.
The song Maddox sang wasn’t that different from the country music he insisted on blasting in his truck—maybe a few more hallelujahs, but it wouldn’t be out of place on the radio, and neither would Maddox’s strong voice. He was that good.
What will I do if he chooses this life over the teams? Over me?
He hadn’t let himself have those thoughts the past few days. Weeks really. Ever since Maddox had recovered from the ICU, Ben had operated on the assumption that Maddox would be back at 100 percent, right at Ben’s side, soon enough. Any other possibility was simply unthinkable. But it was hard to deny the possibility, watching Maddox with these people, watching his humble blush accepting the praise of the minister. He wouldn’t miss me the way I’d miss him.
Fuck. Ben did not like that thought. Not one little bit. He refused to be the needier person. He’d done that with Trey, and look where that had gotten him. No dogs. No home. No hope. This was why dating was a terrible idea, maybe the worst he’d had—
“Hey. You awake?” Carol asked.
“Yeah,” he lied. Oops. Somehow he’d missed the end of the service, standing up and sitting down with the others on autopilot while his brain had churned.
“I’ll show you where the coffee hour is—we can meet up with Mad and Vanessa there.”
Ben dutifully followed her to what she called the fellowship hall. Maddox was already there, surrounded by people who wanted to praise his song and offer well-wishes on him being up and around.
Hanging back, Ben grabbed a cup of lukewarm coffee and one of Maddox’s oatmeal raisin cookies from a tray with various offerings, then set to propping up one of the wood-paneled walls. The people-watching wasn’t bad—a surprising number of people around their age along with a good percentage of same-sex couples, many with kids in tow. He was drifting again, making up stories for the various groups, when Maddox motioned him over.
“Come meet my friends,” Maddox said when he approached. “Did you like the music?”
“You were unbelievable,” Ben said truthfully. “And your cookies aren’t half-bad either.”
Maddox straightened, preening under the praise, and man, that was adorable. Made Ben resolve to praise him far more often.
“Who’s your friend?” A girl with a nose ring tapped Maddox’s arm, far too familiar for Ben’s tastes. “You’re never good with introductions.”
“ThisisBenmyboyfriend,” Maddox said in an unintelligible rush.