Can't Love You {Sequel to "Not Sherlock Holmes"}

Chapter Fourteen

Veronica's POV

"Nica, don't you think we should wait a few more days?" Ian asks as I roam throughout camp, helping people pack and load up. We only have 3 horses, so we have to pack strategically, and we must give the horses time to rest during the trips.

"I think we should leave as soon as possible," I say matter-of-factly, not meeting his eyes.

"I'm serious-"

"I am, too." He glowers at me. His beard is matted and untrimmed, giving him a much gruffer look. He crosses his arms over his chest.

"He needs rest."

"I don't know if you think you're sticking up for him, or what. But he's the one who said we could leave tomorrow. So we're leaving tomorrow." I whirl around and walk in the opposite direction, but I hear his boots crunching behind me.

"What are you doing?" he asks, exasperated.

"I'm trying to keep us alive, since apparently you're not thinking logically. Maybe it's that pregnant wife of yours, is she weighing too heavily on your mind?" I know I've hit a pressure point. "Is that the reason why you're criticizing me for being cruel to Ben? Because you're one to talk."

"And what the heck is that supposed to mean?!" he yells, waving his arms angrily in the air.

"You know full well what I mean!"

"Obviously, I don't, so why don't you explain?"

"I don't feel like it," I reply cooly.

"You're the one who brought it up!"

I want to scream. I want to let it all out. I want to tell him. I want to tell him that I did love him. I want to tell him that I'm sorry, and that I wish he had waited for me just a little bit longer before giving up and running into Christy's arms.

But I can't tell him. I can't tell him, because he's already married. It's already been done. So now, I must live with myself and my mistake.

"Just leave me alone, okay?" I head toward Martin's tent to see if Joe needs any help. Ian is still walking next to me, though.

"Not until you tell me why you insist on traveling when Benedict is clearly not ready." He puts a hand on my shoulder and forces me to stop. I turn and face him, impatient.

"Because I can't risk the lives of everyone in our group for the sake of Ben. He'll be fine." He shakes his head. "What? He'll be fine in a few days, anyway!"

"Yeah, you're right. Whatever. I guess you know best." He spins on his heel and walks away, fuming. I can't stand it when he has the last word though.

"Yeah, you're right! I do know best!" I yell at his retreating form.

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-Flashback-

-One year after Benedict's disappearance-

We only have a small group now; just me, Ian, Martin, and a family of four. They have little kids.

Fortunately, we found excellent shelter right before the ice storms began. We've been trapped in this family's bunker now for 2 months.

They have plenty of food and other supplies stocked up, so we aren't in need of anything. Except entertainment that is. Playing with the 23-year-old mother's baby, Tina, is only appealing for a few hours before you wish to seek out intelligent company.

The bunker is small, but there's a bedroom for the family and then a bedroom for Martin and Ian and I to share.

I grow weary of sitting with the older people and their discussions. I hate to talk about where this world is going and what will happen. So I stand up to go to the restroom.

I stand in front of the mirror for a long time. I stare at my face. My now-scrawny body. I feel like my mouth hasn't smiled in weeks. I try at one, to remind myself how it feels.

I pull impatiently at my frizzy hair and that's about when the tears start to come. Because I imagine what Ben would say if he were standing here. Probably something sweet, or funny.

Carefully opening the bathroom door, I exit and slip quietly into our bedroom. I don't bother to change my clothes; I only fall onto my cot and stare at the ceiling.

Suddenly, the door reopens, and I see Ian come in. He quietly walks among the cots and lays in the one sitting next to mine.

I lay on my side and we stare at each other for a long time. I soak in the look of his features. His eyes that watch me.

He leans closer to me, and I hear his cot creak.

Is he going to kiss me?

What should I do?

Do I want him to kiss me?

I realize the answer is yes.

He holds my face in his hands and he kisses me softly. He holds me and I reach for him. Because I'm suddenly desperate for this kiss. My heart aches for it. I want it.

It ends too soon. He pulls away and looks at my face. But instead of love, I see pain in his eyes.

"What's wrong?" I whisper, my heart still pounding, and my lips now bruising.

"Nothing." And he lays back on his own cot and doesn't speak again.