Martin leaned into it, and closed his eyes.
“So,” Taggart muttered. “I kind of jumped the gun, didn’t I?”
“A little,” Martin admitted. “But maybe that’s not so bad.”
“You haven’t brought anyone home before?” Taggart asked.
Martin shrugged. “The truth is I haven’t really had a serious thing before. Not that this is serious.” He shifted away a little so he could look at Taggart. “Unless it is?”
Taggart sighed, and chewed the inside of his cheek, his lips moving back and forth. “What if it was?”
“Are you ready for anything like that?” Martin asked. He moved again, turning so that he could face Taggart. Grunt huffed, and had to reposition himself. “It’s okay if you aren’t. I just — I don’t want to get involved if we’re not gonna work.”
Taggart’s chuckle was gentle. “Maybe I’m just a dumb jarhead,” he said, “but I don’t see how it has to be that complicated. We’re involved. Are we gonna draw some lines and set some dates to cross them? I can deal with a battle plan. I’m just not sure we need one.”
“So that’s it, then?” Martin asked. “Are we . . .”
Taggart raised an eyebrow. “Butt buddies?”
Martin snorted, and thumped Taggart in the shoulder. “Don’t be gross. Are we dating, or are you my boyfriend, or something?”
“Why are you asking me?” Taggart laughed. “I’m the one who’s barely out of the closet. Didn’t you take gay boot camp or whatever?”
“Gay boot camp is mostly just oral stamina and anal kegels,” Martin said. “Relationships are officer training.”
Taggart snorted, and laughed again.
Martin kissed him, and rested his hand on Taggart’s chest.
When he pulled away, Taggart had a soft look on his face. “Wanna be my boyfriend?”
Martin grinned, and kissed him again. “Sure,” he said. “But we’re gonna have to work on your blowjob technique if this is gonna last.”
35
That night, Taggart slept with another person for the first time since he was a toddler sneaking into his parent’s bed at night. It was strange to remember that particular thing so clearly when he doffed his prosthetic leg and waited for Martin to undress and crawl into bed with him. But it was the thing that came to mind.
Martin helped Grunt up onto the bed that was higher than the dog was used to, and then kicked off his underwear and slipped under the sheet and blanket. Grunt circled around the foot of the bed, and flopped into place with a huff.
“God, I missed my bed,” Martin sighed.
“I sometimes miss the bunks in the barracks,” Taggart said.
“Were they comfortable?” Martin asked.
Taggart shook his head. “Not at first. Pretty sure they just pour concrete into a mold. But you get used to it after a while, I guess.”
“Sorry,” Martin sighed. “This bed probably feels like it’s about to eat you.”
Taggart chuckled, and shook his head. “It’s fine. Get closer.”
Martin did, squirming across the space between them, until their legs were entangled, almost. Taggart let his left leg hang behind, so it wasn’t touching Martin.
“Hey,” Martin said, “don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?” Taggart asked. “I can’t help what my dick does, that’s just what happens when you get close.”
Martin moved under the covers, and his hand closed around Taggart’s cock, which was hard for the very reason that he said. Actually, it had happened when Martin took his clothes off, but that seemed like semantics.
Taggart groaned softly, and flexed the muscles that made his dick swell a bit, bouncing in Martin’s hand as it did.
“Well, you can do that,” Martin said, his voice smiling in the dark. “But I mean your leg. It doesn’t bother me, Tag.”
“It bothers me a little,” Taggart said.
“You’re going to have to get over that,” Martin whispered. He tugged gently at Taggart’s cock. “Not now, if you don’t think you can, but eventually. I want to lo—to . . . I’m good with all of you. It’s not something I think about, it doesn’t make me —”
“You think I didn’t catch that?” Taggart asked. He pulled Martin close. “What were you gonna say?”
“I just stuttered,” Martin said. “I’m chilly.”
Taggart nosed Martin’s chin, and bent his neck to kiss the part of Martin’s neck that connected to his jaw. “Don’t lie to me,” he rumbled quietly, and caught Martin’s earlobe between his teeth, tongue flickering over it. “What were you going to say?”
“It’s not what it sounded like,” Martin breathed. He wriggled against Taggart’s body, and whined when Taggart bit and sucked at his neck.
“Say it,” Taggart said. “Say it and I’ll turn you over and fuck you slow, deep, just the way you like it.”
“Tag, we can’t,” Martin murmured. “I can’t screw you in my Aunt Janey’s house. Her room is next door.”
“Then you better be quiet,” Taggart said. “Don’t tell me you don’t want it.” He reached between them and gave Martin’s hard on a squeeze. His fingers crept further down, and found Martin’s balls in a tight mound from the chilly air. He gripped them, and tugged just the way his squirmy boy liked.
“Fuck, Tag” Martin gasped against Taggart’s shoulder, his breath hot, tickling over Taggart’s skin.
“What did you almost say?” Taggart asked again, punctuating the question with a tighter squeeze.
Martin gasped again, and clung to Taggart, his fingers digging into his shoulder. “I was gonna say that I — I want to — love all of you.”
“That’s all I wanted,” Taggart whispered. “Just for you to talk straight to me.”
“Tag — ah, oh, Jesus, baby.”
Taggart buried his face in Martin’s neck, gnawing more hungrily at the flesh there, as he pulled Martin’s balls down in a tight grip. He growled, and pushed Martin’s hips to urge him to roll over, and spooned close, both legs pressed against the back of Martin’s thighs.
He continued to kiss and nibble Martin’s neck, holding them tight together, thrusting slowly against the cleft of Martin’s ass cheeks, slowly working his way toward that tight, warm hole that hid between them.
“Wait,” Martin breathed.
“What?” Taggart asked. “I was gonna get the lube, I know I can’t just —”
“No,” Martin said, “not that. Just — I do want it but this is the first time we actually slept together. Almost two months and this feels really good, is all.”
It did. Taggart sighed — not from disappointment, but from the warmth that seemed to permeate out of Martin — and moved a little until they were perfectly molded together. Martin threaded his fingers into Taggart’s with both hands — one draped over Martin’s chest, the other stretched out behind his head.
Eventually, Grunt moved up from the foot of the wide bed and crawled on top of them to sleep.
Soon enough, Taggart drifted off as well, listening to Martin’s even, untroubled breath, and rocking gently with the swell of Martin’s chest.
36
Martin woke to an empty bed.
Grunt was huddled up against him, curled into the crook of his hips, twitching with whatever dreams dogs had.
It was barely light outside, and the clock read six fifteen. He stretched, waking Grunt in the process, and sat up. Taggart’s prosthesis was gone, of course. So were his clothes.
Martin sniffed at some scent in the air. Bacon, he thought. Janey was never really a fan of breakfast, and she normally ate oatmeal if she ate anything. Maybe she was cooking because there was company?
Whatever the case, Martin crawled out of bed and got dressed, and helped Grunt down to the floor and crept out of the room and down the stairs.
Janey was up, but she was sitting at the table, working on a puzzle.
It was Taggart at the stove.
“Morning,” Martin said, moving to Janey to ki
ss her on the forehead.
Taggart turned a little, and smiled. “Do you sleep in every day?”
“Yeah,” Martin said, “normally until six thirty. I’m lazy like that. What time did you get up?”
“He was already awake when I got up,” Janey said.
“I get up about four, still,” Taggart said. He shuffled bacon off of a pan and onto a plate. “Ran to the next town up to find a grocery store that was open, figured I’d whip us up some grub.”
“You got up at four and drove to Henderson?” Martin shook his head in amazement and crossed the small kitchen to see what Taggart had come up with.
“Nothing fancy,” Taggart said. “Eggs, bacon, pancakes. I got some bananas, too, over there.”
“He cooks,” Janey piped. “That’s a keeper.”
Martin chuckled. “Well, now that you’ve got the approval of Aunt Janey, I guess it’s official.”
Taggart grinned at him, and started plating scrambled eggs. “You know what?” He asked quietly.
“What?” Martin asked.
Taggart emptied the pan, turned off the gas to the stove, and set it back down. “I slept good last night.”
“Me too.” Martin smiled up at Taggart, and wanted to kiss him but didn’t know if it was something Janey would have a problem with or not.
Taggart shook his head. “No, I mean, I slept good. I didn’t have nightmares. Not serious ones, anyway, not like what I’m used to.”
“I keep telling you that your bed is too hard,” Martin said.
“Well,” Taggart said, “I don’t think it had anything to do with your civilian bed.”
“Civilian bed,” Martin repeated. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Comfortable,” Taggart said. He smiled, and handed Martin a plate. “Let’s eat.”
There were three plates, and Janey took hers but mostly just picked at it a bit. Taggart didn’t seem offended, at least. In fact, he seemed more interested in Janey’s puzzle than in whether she ate the food he’d cooked or not.
Grunt wandered around under the table, hoping to catch scraps, but Taggart had a strict policy about not feeding him from plates, and about waiting until he’d eaten to feed the puppy. Something about maintaining the pack order.
After they ate, Taggart took Grunt outside again, and gave him his food. There was nothing much else to do except the other part of what Martin had come up for.
Martin wasn’t quite sure how to start that conversation. When he asked Taggart, Taggart’s advice was predictable.
“Just ask her,” he said. “Tell her why you think it’s a good idea. She knows you mean well, and that you just want to take care of her. Believe me, you’re the whole fucking world to her these days.”
“I’m afraid she’d going to think I’m giving up on her, or betraying her or something,” Martin said. He rubbed his face, trying not to cry. It was going to be bad enough when he spoke to his aunt.
“No one could think that about you,” Taggart chuckled. He kissed Martin’s forehead. “It’ll be okay. You got backup.”
“I can’t ask you to talk to Janey about this,” Martin said. “This is my responsibility.”
Taggart frowned. “I didn’t mean me. She’s nuts about Grunt. Just plop him in her lap and she’ll be game for anything.”
That gave Martin a much needed laugh, at least. And, he did give it a try.
Late that day, once he’d managed to work up his nerve and Janey seemed to be fully present, Martin sat down with her in the living room. He’d sent Taggart upstairs just to have a moment alone with her. Grunt stayed with them, though, scuffling around and wrestling with a chew toy that was too big for him.
“I came up to talk with you,” Martin said weakly when they’d been sitting quietly for a moment, tense as Janey probably wondered what Martin was going to say, and Martin wondered that himself.
“Alright,” Janey said warily. “Is everything okay? Is it about Taggart? Or Hal?”
“No,” Martin said. He licked his lips. “Auntie, I need to know that I can take care of you.”
Janey’s face fell slightly. “Martin.”
“This is really hard, Auntie,” Martin said. “Let me just — get through it all, okay?”
She nodded, concern making the lines on her face deeper than they should have been. She wasn’t that old. Not old enough for what was happening to her.
Martin braced himself. Just get through it, he thought. You can cry on the other end.
“I can’t work at the VA and be here, too,” he said. “But the truth is, you need someone here with you, Auntie. I wish that wasn’t true, but we both know this is getting worse. Your memory, the dementia. I just want you to be happy, and not have to be worried, and I don’t want to always be worried about what’s happening up here. I do, I mean — I’ll always worry, but I need to know that when I come up you’ll be here and safe. And to do that, I think that the best thing would be for you to let me take over here.”
“Take over?” Janey asked. “What do you mean?”
Martin’s eyes fell to the folder on the coffee table. “I had Clint draw up papers to grant me power of attorney. It won’t keep you from anything, it’ll just . . . let me help, in case you — if you get lost and can’t find your way back.”
He could see the hurt in her eyes immediately, but she didn’t speak. She looked at the folder as though it were dangerous.
“You have to know that I love you,” Martin said through a tight throat. “That I will do whatever I have to make you as happy and comfortable as I can. I wish that I could afford to be here every day, but I can’t.”
“Power of attorney,” Janey said. She sighed, and pressed her fingers to her forehead. “You want to be the parent. That’s supposed to be my job.”
“It was,” Martin said. “It still is. You’re the only family I’ve really got left. I just don’t want to lose you, Auntie. That’s all. And I don’t want you to have to worry about what’s going to happen if — when this gets worse.”
“I know,” Janey said. “I do. I’m . . . I’m so sorry, Martin. I never wanted you or Keith to deal with this. You don’t know how much it frightens me. I watched my mother go down this dark tunnel that she eventually just got lost in. I don’t want that for you.”
Martin leaned forward, and took her hands in his. “I promise you,” he said, “I will never abandon you. No matter what happens. I will be with you the whole way.”
Janey nodded, and kissed his cheek. “I know you will. That’s what worries me.”
In the end, she went with him to Clint’s office and signed the papers. It wasn’t going to be a simple process, but Clint agreed to file everything for them, and ensure that Martin had access to all of the accounts he would need.
Afterward, they met Taggart and Grunt, and went for ice cream, and talked about Janey’s favorite memories. Martin kept it together, for the most part. But he couldn’t help thinking that they were talking about the past now so that they could do it while Janey could still remember it.
37
They left Sunday night, so that Martin could get a full night’s sleep before work, and so that Taggart didn’t miss his own PT with Martin. They hadn’t ended up actually going out, but Martin confessed that he didn’t mind so much. It had been nice to just spend time with his Aunt. Taggart agreed, but next time, he told himself, they would go on a proper date.
Taggart felt a pang of disappointment when they got ready to leave. His parents no longer lived in Willow’s End, and he hadn’t taken the time to see Angie while he was here, but Willow’s End just felt like home, somehow. Coming back had made him nervous, but instead of being reminded of who he no longer was, it only seemed to remind him that in some ways there were still scraps of his old self left.
Hopefully, they were the good parts.
More than that, Martin’s aunt was a genuinely motherly woman, and Taggart really did like her. It wasn’t all that surprising. Martin had been shaped mostly by h
er influence. He understood a little better now that Martin’s need to help people and care for the wounded and injured wasn’t just a career. It was embedded in him, a part of who he was.
Martin made his calls, checking in with everyone in Willow’s End who would visit Janey over the next week, during the day when Martin couldn’t be here. After he was satisfied the gaps were small enough, they said their goodbyes.
“You take good care of my Martin,” Janey whispered in Taggart’s ear. “He needs someone strong to lean on, so he doesn’t have to be strong all the time. We all do, I think.”
“I’ll take care of him,” Taggart promised. He accepted a kiss on the cheek and stepped aside to let Martin say goodbye.
“I love you, Auntie,” Martin said. “I’ll be back tomorrow night for a bit.”
Janey sighed. “You can’t keep this up.”
“Just until I can find a home care program we can afford,” he told her.
It was clear to Taggart that Janey didn’t like being reminded of it, but she bore it with dignity at least. She kissed Martin’s cheeks. She also knelt, and scooped Grunt up, and gave him kisses as well, which he returned with interest and a great deal more slobber.
“When you come back up, bring this one,” Janey said. “Don’t you dare forget!”
Martin promised, and they got in the car and headed out of Willow’s End.
“You’re really going to come back tomorrow night?” Taggart asked when they were on the road.
“I have to,” Martin said. “I can’t ask anyone here to check in on her that late. They have kids, and lives and . . jobs.”
Taggart drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll come with you. You can nap and I can drive.”
“Taggart, you don’t have to —”
“What am I gonna do instead?” Taggart asked. “Sit on my ass at home? Am I your boyfriend or not?”
Martin sniffed, and leaned his head on Taggart’s shoulder. “I guess you are. Alright. I think Janey would like it, anyway. And I would, too.”
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