He drags me past the WELCOME TO HARBORSIDE sign, and as soon as we’re on the other side, he crashes his mouth to mine. I fight against the assault, but my body’s already his, alive and throbbing with the need to be close despite the anger coursing through my veins.
He tears his mouth away but holds my arms so tight I know he’ll leave bruises. “I’ll strip down right here and let you take me, Tristan,” he seethes. “If you think for a second I’m trying to hide that you’re my man, you’re wrong. I’m trying to save my fucking sanity.” He tugs me hard, and our bodies collide.
The pleading look in his eyes claws at my heart, and I don’t fight him this time. We’re on the same team, no matter how messed up it is.
“The military drills shit into your head, and I have no idea how long it will take to go away. But that doesn’t mean it’s fair or right or acceptable to ask you to deal with it. I get that, and I’m sorry. I lived, showered, ate, and fought with my team. Those guys protected me, T. The same way I protected them. We’re talking about life and death, and when I told them I was gay, no matter how much I wanted to pretend I didn’t see it, they changed. They kept their distance, made jokes about dropping the soap and all that infantile shit I heard growing up. And all I kept thinking was what happens when we’re in the field? If they’re covering my ass and a straight guy’s, would it make a difference? Would they fight harder to cover the straight guy? I wasn’t going to take that chance, and I know it’s a fucked-up way to live, but it was my life. My life, Tristan, not a bad day at work.” He pauses, inhaling deeply, and lowers his eyes remorsefully, though his grip on my arm remains tight.
When he lifts his face again, the anger has morphed to deep, gut-wrenching regret. “I’m not asking you to be okay with this. I hate myself for being too weak to step up to the plate and own who I am when I’m on base, but I’m trying. I just…It’s not easy. When I see a guy in uniform, my insides freeze and my spine straightens. I’m surprised I don’t salute every damn time. But I don’t want to be the person who makes you feel less important than you are. I want to be the man you’re proud to have by your side. Every fucking day.”
He releases my arms, but I can’t move, because the only place I want to be is wrapped around the man before me. But I also want the impossible: a guarantee that Alex will one day be able to act like he’s with me regardless of who is around. Is that unfair of me? Where’s the line between enabling someone to hurt me and supporting a lover through his biggest fear?
“I’m sorry,” he pleads. “You can push me away, and I’ll understand it if you do, but that doesn’t mean I’ll give up. I’m not going anywhere, T. I told you that. What we have is too good to walk away from. I would give anything to start over.”
“Start over, Alex? Where? How far back? You’d still have joined the military. You’d still have gone to war…” My unsaid words play louder than any of the spoken ones—You’d still be too fucked up to walk onto a military base and admit you’re gay.
All the anger recedes from his face, and his shoulders drop heavily.
I feel sick for acting like such a jerk and admit the truth with a healthy dose of venom. “I’m scared of making a mistake. I understand everything you’ve just said. I do. Life or death is a hell of a lot different than getting a sneer from someone on the boardwalk. But I don’t want to worry about how you’ll react if we’re out in town and someone you know from the military happens to see us—or someone you don’t know, which seems to be just as big a problem.”
He grips my shoulders, and I bristle against my inner conflict between wanting him and needing to protect myself. He looks so conflicted, but his feelings for me ride the surface, impossible to ignore. When he touches his forehead to mine, I can barely breathe.
“I don’t want half of a life with you either, T.” He squeezes my shoulders and stares directly into my eyes with such sincerity my walls come crashing down. “I just need help getting there. A little understanding. A kick in the ass. A fight to the death.”
I smile despite all the angst between us, because a fight to the death is exactly how the past few hours have felt.
“And I totally get it if you can’t give me those things,” he continues. “Because I feel like a dick asking you to. Especially after all you’ve been through.”
His hand slides to the base of my neck, and the sounds of cars driving by compete with the sound of my head telling me he’s worth taking the chance.
“I can’t be on full alert every time we go someplace new,” I say adamantly.
“I know.”
“It is not okay for you to treat me like we’re not together. Not anywhere, not for any reason.”
His hands drop to his sides. “So, this is it? We’re just going to be friends from here on out? Can you do that?” he says accusingly, then softens his tone. “I’m not sure I can go cold turkey from you, T.”
Feeling like we’ve been battered in a hurricane, it takes a minute for me to realize he’s misinterpreted what I’ve said.
“I’m not walking away from us. I’m just pissed off. I didn’t see that coming.”
“You should be pissed, T. I knew what I did back in that clinic was wrong, but I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t deal with it.”
“You have to try. If you don’t try, we have nothing.” I say it much more calmly than I feel. “You can’t fuck me over, Alex. If you’re going to fall for me, do it like you mean it, because half-assed will never be enough.”
“I don’t ever want to fuck you over. But this shit is so ingrained in my head. I’m trying, and I’ll try harder. I recognized it when it happened. As shitty as that is, it’s a start.”
I can’t disagree. It is shitty, but he’s right. It’s a start.
“Now you see why I don’t want to go to that stupid award ceremony? The whole system stands for all the wrong shit.”
“The whole system doesn’t stand for the wrong shit. The military stands for the right things. It’s the politics of some of the people in it that are wrong.”
He squints like he wants to argue the point, and I try not to think about how we’ll navigate a ceremony if we can’t even deal with visiting a frigging clinic.
“You fought for our country. That’s honorable. You deserve the award, Alex, and you’re going to the ceremony.”
He clutches my hand. I know we’re in the same dark place, facing fears that are bigger than either of us. The question is, are we strong enough together to win this battle?
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Tristan
AFTER A RESTLESS night’s sleep, I get up early and go for a run, thinking about yesterday. I know Alex wants to get past whatever bullshit the military has pounded into his head, but the thought of feeling like I did at the clinic again makes me nauseous. I run a few miles up the beach to Wyatt’s house and find Brandon on the deck drinking coffee. His hair is disheveled and his eyelids are heavy, as if he’s been up all night.
“Hey, man,” he says as I ascend the steps. “Where’s wifey?”
“He’s not a runner.” It strikes me that I’m doing a different type of running by heading out for my run instead of sticking around to have this conversation with Alex. I sit at the end of the table feeling like a coward.
“And you haven’t been running since you two first got together. Trouble in paradise?”
That’s an astute assessment for the man who knows nothing about relationships, but then again, this is Brandon. He’s not stupid; he’s just rebellious.
“A little.”
The doors to the deck are open, and I hear Delilah and Ashley come downstairs. When they see me sitting on the deck, their faces light up. They look like beach bunnies with their blond hair and sun-kissed skin, wearing sweatshirts and cutoffs. Delilah has on her favorite black boots, and Ashley is looking at her like she’s the most wonderful girl on earth. I know that feeling. My heart is swimming with Alex despite yesterday’s events. I was proud of him for going in and talking with the kids and fo
r admitting the truth to me rather than shutting down.
“What are you doing here so early?” Delilah leans down for a hug. “Ew, you’re all sweaty.”
“I was out for a run.”
Ashley tousles my hair. “I’ll skip the sweaty hug, but it’s good to see you.”
They sit across from me and hold hands.
“What are you guys doing here so early?” They each have an apartment a few blocks away, although I’m pretty sure they stay together every night.
“Dee and I are going up to Provincetown to hang out with some friends for the afternoon, and she wanted to grab an easel she has in the attic,” Ashley answers. “But we can’t get in there until Wyatt’s up. Why are you here so early? Brandon said you’ve practically moved in with Alex.”
“He has boyfriend trouble,” Brandon says.
I shake my head. “I didn’t say that.”
Brandon rolls his eyes. “A little trouble in paradise, aka boyfriend trouble, which we all know means someone’s being emotionally tortured.”
I don’t even try to deny it, because they’ve known me too long to think they can’t read the emotions written all over my face. Besides, that’s how things work around here. We stick our noses into each other’s business and talk about everything, which is probably why I ran here in the first place. I needed a reality check.
“Did he cheat or something?” Brandon’s jaw clenches.
“No, he’d never do that.” As I admit this, I realize how easily the answer came, and how important that answer is. “Alex’s loyalty is one of the things I admire most about him.”
“It’s what you’ve always wanted.” Delilah’s tone softens. “So what’s going on?”
I tell them about what happened at the clinic, about the total mind trip the military did on him, and about the talk he and I had on the way home. It doesn’t feel like a betrayal sharing any of this with them, because I need to know if I’m in too deep to see clearly. I need to know if I’m making a mistake, and I know without a shadow of a doubt that my friends will lay the truth on the line for me, no matter how much it hurts.
“I want to be with him, but I’ve been down this road before. Being disregarded is my Achilles’ heel.”
“Dude,” Brandon says. “That guy acts like you’re married. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“He usually does,” I admit. I’m careful not to tell them about the award ceremony, because Alex asked me not to, but I give them enough to help me make the right decision. “But he has an event coming up on a military base, and after seeing him yesterday at the clinic on base, I’m not sure he’ll be able to act any differently when the time comes.”
Delilah and Ashley exchange a knowing glance. I remember how hard it was for them when Delilah wasn’t out. Helping them had come easily. It was clear to me that Delilah loved Ashley no matter how hard it was for her to openly accept her sexuality. Why is this so much more difficult? I believe in Alex’s feelings for me.
“I think we know a little about this subject,” Ashley says.
“Wasn’t it you who told me that accepting my sexuality wasn’t a race?” Delilah reminds me. “You said it was a slow progression of coming into my true self, and no one could set that pace but me. Tristan, if he’s really had that much of a mind trip, then maybe it’s as bad as the guilt I had about my parents’ beliefs. That’s not an easy thing to come out from under. You remember how hard it was for me.”
“I still say loud and proud,” Brandon quips.
I open my mouth to give Brandon my usual response—Loud and proud isn’t for everyone—and snap my mouth shut.
“Holy shit,” I say more to myself than to them. “I’m a hypocrite.”
“So go fix it,” Delilah suggests.
“We’re not broken. We’re just…We’re walking on a tightrope. All this shit went down yesterday, and I want to help him through it. But even thinking about what it might be like knots up my stomach.”
“I can’t believe I’m pushing for anyone to remain in a monogamous relationship, but, Tristan, Alex adores you. The guy looks at you like you’re sporting a magical dick. That’s what you’ve always wanted—it’s what you deserve—and we can all see how you feel about him. I think you’re negating the most important thing in this equation.”
I draw in a deep breath, preparing for a brash, ridiculous response, and ask, “What’s that?”
“You want a guy who will walk over fire for you, but you want your path paved with sand. Man up, dude. So he has an Achilles’ heel, too? How often are you on a military base? How often do you see military guys?” Brandon leans forward with a piercing stare that tells me for once in his life, he’s not fucking around. “Give the guy a break. He needs you. And yes, you might get hurt again, but if he wasn’t worth it, you wouldn’t have stayed at his place last night.”
“I know he’s worth it, but the reason I was taking a break was because I put myself in these situations. Don’t you think I’m stupid for setting myself up to be hurt? For falling right back into the pattern of being with guys who will hurt me like Ian did?”
“Ian was a dick,” Ashley says.
“He treated you horribly,” Delilah adds. “Alex loves you, even if he hasn’t said it. I see it. We all do.”
“You’ve changed, bro,” Brandon says. “You’re here. You’re talking about it. You’re looking at all sides of this situation. With Ian, you refused to acknowledge how badly he treated you. You’re not stupid. You’re just scared.”
Alex
I’M SITTING ON the patio listening to the waves roll in and thinking about the last few weeks. I remember the first night I saw Tristan at the bar and the morning I saw him jogging on the beach. I was drawn to him from the very first second I saw him, and I’ve only gotten reeled further in with every second we’ve spent together.
I reach down and rub my throbbing leg, remembering how lovingly he washed it and thinking of the shock I felt the morning I woke up in the hospital almost a year ago. I thought I knew pain. Pain of my injuries, pain of losing my grandmother, pain of all those years pretending to be someone I wasn’t. But none of it, even when put together, amounts to one-tenth of how much it hurts knowing I caused Tristan the kind of pain he told me he never wanted to feel again.
I can’t sit on my ass hoping this fixes itself. Nothing in life fixes itself.
I push to my feet to head down the beach and look for him, when I see him jogging toward the house. My heart skips as his legs pound out a beat mine no longer can. He accepts that about me. He accepts everything about me. I need to get over this military mind fuck, no matter what it takes.
He jogs up the hill, and I meet him on the steps. My chest constricts, knowing I caused the fatigue I see on his face, and shame clings to me like a second skin.
“I’m sorry,” we both say at once.
My voice sounds strangled, which is exactly how I’ve felt since yesterday.
“Everything we’re going through is my fault,” I admit. “I don’t know how, T, but I’ll fix this. I want to fix this.”
He doesn’t say a word, and I know it’s because he can’t more than that he doesn’t want to.
“T…?”
“Alex,” he whispers.
“I’m so sorry.” I step closer again, and he takes my hand. I gaze into his eyes and see desire and longing looking back at me. That he wears his heart on his sleeve is just one of the many things I love about him.
“I need you, T.”
“Alex,” he whispers. “Every time I think about going to the ceremony, or not going to it…Every time I think about how you must have felt at that clinic, I want to kill someone. I don’t know how to let it go.”
His pain cuts me to my core. “You don’t have to let it go. We need to get through this together, figure it out, take it apart. I know who I want to be. I know how I want to act. That has to count for something. Can you give me time? Have a little faith? I’m fixable, Tristan. For you, I k
now I can be. I don’t know how or how long it will take, but I will fix this.”
Emotions well in his eyes, and he leans in so close his breath becomes mine.
“Alex—” He pushes his hands into my hair. “I believe in you. I’m just scared.”
His mouth meets mine in a needful kiss, so different from our usual battle for control it takes me a minute to catch up and accept this for what it is. A kiss of mutual desperation. A kiss of hope and uncertainty, laced with determination to cross the tenuous bridge that separates us from our certain future.
When our lips part, his hands remain in my hair. “Take me inside, Alex. I need you. I need us.”
We kiss as we make our way inside, but we’re not rushing. This isn’t the same explosive greed that has carried us so many times before. These kisses are fueled by a deep-seated need to become one, to rebuild our trust and strengthen our foundation. In the bedroom, we strip each other down, and I don’t give an ounce of thought to my scars or my leg. My mind is too full with the desire to heal the hurt I’ve caused Tristan to think about anything else.
Taking my lover’s face in my hands, I promise what I truly hope to be true. “I will beat this, T.” I kiss him again, pouring my soul into the connection.
We lower ourselves to the bed, and as I settle between his legs, we gaze into each other’s eyes. All the heat, all the hurt, and our determination to make our relationship stronger, merges into one unbreakable bond.
When our mouths come together again, the kiss is languid and loving, though our hearts hammer to a frenetic beat. Our hips take on a life of their own, grinding and thrusting, and the kiss turns possessive. Needing more of him, I deepen the kiss and shift to the side, taking hold of his eager cock. We both groan with relief as I brush my thumb over the sticky tip. His mouth devours mine, and I swear I feel the shattered pieces of us coming back together.
“Alex,” he growls as I clamp my teeth over his neck and suck. “God, Alex. Suck me.”
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