by Kyle Baxter
“Like I said, he’s trying to be friends. I appreciate the effort but . . .” Joel lay back on the bed watching Freddie remove his shirt so he was standing there in just his olive-green singlet.
Freddie liked the tall man’s eyes on him. “You’d rather he left you alone?”
A scowl took over Joel’s pretty mouth. “Yeah, he ended it. And that’s fine, but to keep calling? I just—” Joel held up his hands like they were claws on either side of his head and grimaced. He took a deep breath and settled down. “I don’t want him back. I don’t, but I can’t just push him away either, you know? I’m hoping he’ll get the message and stop on his own. God, I don’t want to have to be the asshole. I mean, I did . . . I did believe that I loved him, once.”
“It’s hard to let go sometimes, and some people won’t take the hint. You have to be upfront. And yeah, sometimes you have to be the asshole. Some take kindness as weakness and exploit it.” Freddie removed his trousers, and after folding his fatigues, he set them on the top shelf in the closet. “You have to draw a line and stick to it.”
“Yeah, you’re right. You know, I took a big risk when I met him. I asked him out. He was so handsome, totally out of my league. I shouldn’t have bothered. It wasn’t worth it. Learned my lesson.”
Freddie bobbed his head. He didn’t think anyone was out of this guy’s league, but he understood the sentiment. He gestured in the direction of the phone. “What was that song? The ringtone. Was that Justin Bieber?”
“Yes,” Joel said under his breath.
“You like Justin Bieber.” Freddie grinned. This guy kept surprising him.
“I do not,” Joel protested, scooted back against the headboard, and opened his tablet. “I just like that one song, ‘10,000 Hours.’ In a weak moment, I fell in love with it and set it as Seth’s ringtone. Now I can’t even listen to it without cringing.”
As he talked, Joel’s attention kept darting up to him from his tablet. Again, Freddie enjoyed the feeling of the man’s eyes on him.
“For what it’s worth,” Joel continued, “I like the acoustic cover of the song, not Bieber’s version.”
Freddie looked heavenward. “Whatever, pretty boy.” He walked back to his bed, retrieving a clean pair of boxers, his toiletry bag, and the bathrobe. “I’m hitting the shower. I took the liberty and ordered us hamburgers, chips, and beer from the front desk. They should be up in a bit.”
“That’s a lot of calories. Aren’t you worried about your waist?” Joel smirked, clearly trying to tease him.
Well, two can play at that game. Freddie lifted up his undershirt and patted the taut stomach he worked hard on. “I think I’ll be all right.” Joel’s throat made a gratifying gulp and Freddie went into the loo.
Chapter Nine
Tell Me
Their food and beer appeared while Joel took his turn in the shower. Freddie leaned against the door of the water closet and knocked. “You’re taking a while. Do you need some help? Would you like me to wash your back?” He bounced off it when it opened suddenly.
“I managed, but thanks.” Joel came out in black boxer briefs. A dark trail of hair led up his torso to a small patch in the middle of his chest. He caught Freddie eyeing him as he pulled on a singlet. “What?”
“Nothing, I just love spider boys.”
Joey’s eyes bugged. “Spider boys?”
“It’s what I call tall, slim, dark-haired guys.” Freddie kissed his fingertips, opening them in another chef’s kiss. “Délicieux.”
“You’re trouble.” Joel shook his head, his wet, wavy hair bouncing as he did. He raked a hand through it.
“You have a Superman tattoo.” Freddie pointed to Joel’s left shoulder.
“Yeah . . .” Joel smiled before quickly pulling on a robe.
“You really like him,” Freddie said.
“Yeah, I’m a big fan. Hashtag WWSD for life—what would Superman do?” Joel moved past the man and to the small table by the window where their dinner waited.
“Is that where the impetus to help people comes from?” Freddie joined him at the table. His eyes ran up and down the tall man; he fascinated him.
“Maybe. Superman certainly is an aspirational character. You can never be a superhero, of course, but that doesn’t mean you can’t try to do good when you can, you know? Do the next right thing,” Joel said.
Freddie nodded and opened their beers. He wasn’t sure what he expected when he first saw him, but this kind, sweet man was one surprise after another. He liked him very much and already felt surprisingly safe with him. Once again, Frederick realized Joel could never be a one-night stand.
Which was too bad, as Freddie did not do relationships. His life was too much in turmoil at the moment to offer Joel more than a tumble in the sack. Besides, a guy like this could never love him. With all the things he’d done and seen in the service, Freddie felt damaged. And he had no idea what waited for him at home.
He pulled out his phone and sent a message updating his retainer with what was going on, his delay in getting home. The text response was concise.
Luc: There will be a car waiting at the train station.
No further word from his mother or her secretary. Hmmm. It was unusual. Freddie set his phone aside. They ate in silence for long minutes. Almost eight hours since lunch, they snarfed down their meal.
Looking up from his burger, Joel asked, “What was that flower you gave Noah back at the airport? I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Oh, it was nothing,” Freddie lied. “It was an edelweiss.”
His companion’s eyes went wide with recognition. “You mean like in The Sound of Music?”
Freddie gave him a tight smile. “Exactly. Someone picked it for me.”
“Clearly it’s not nothing. You’ve got a tattoo of it.” Joel pointed to Freddie’s left arm and the small flower there. “I mean, among your others.” He indicated Freddie’s right shoulder and the half-sleeve of tattoos that ended in a puzzle pattern just after his bicep. Freddie lifted his arm and flexed as Joel wagged his eyebrows and gave him a crooked smile. “Was it a lover?”
Freddie shook his head. He understood where the idea came from. In folklore, suitors proved their love by climbing the Alps in search of the flower, but he’d been sans amour—without love—for quite a while now. “My brother gave it to me for luck, actually. He loved climbing and skiing and picked it on one of his trips.”
“The brother that took you to shows in the West End?” Joel’s eyes twinkled with pleasure. “He must love you a lot.”
Freddie paused. Should he go there? Joel was so interested, so fresh-faced. Freddie took the leap. “He did—he died a year ago.”
Joel’s face fell. “I am so sorry.”
He winced. I should not have brought it up, just avoided it. No, it’s fine. I need to talk about this. Look at his face. Say something! “It’s okay, Joey. It was an accident on a ski tour. Alois loved skiing and touring, and he went out doing what he loved.” Freddie lifted his beer a little in salute. He took a swig and set the bottle down, then continued. “I was deployed at the time and didn’t get to come home for the funeral. I think my mum still resents me for it.”
“I’m so sorry.” Joel reached over and put a hand on his.
It felt nice. And welcoming. Freddie squeezed the hand back. “Thank you. It’s fine. I just miss him a lot sometimes.”
“Of course you do. Going home must bring up a lot of memories. I know it does for me whenever I get to go home to New Orleans.”
Joel understood. Of course he does. Okay, in for a penny, in for a pound. “There’s something I do need to warn you about.”
Joel froze mid-bite, his face comical to the point that Freddie almost laughed.
“Mmm-okay,” Joel mumbled with his mouth covered by a napkin.
Freddie took a deep breath. Okay. “I have nightmares sometimes, night terrors,” he said carefully. Joel’s face was impassive. “Usually they’re no big deal, but they’
re coming more frequently and getting more intense as I get closer to the anniversary of Noah’s death . . . If I have one, don’t touch me or try to wake me. Just let it pass.”
“Wait, who’s Noah?” Joel’s brow furrowed. “I thought your brother’s name was Alois.”
“Oh, of course . . . I didn’t tell you that.” Freddie sat back in his seat. “My mate—my best friend in the Regiment—died on a mission last year, just a few months after my brother.”
Joel’s mouth dropped open. “Noah, like Maeve’s son Noah?”
Freddie took a deep breath and exhaled. “Yes.”
“Holy shit, dude.” Joel pointed a chip at him. “That’s why you froze up when he introduced himself.”
“You noticed that?” Freddie asked, both surprised and impressed.
“Yeah, I did. It’s no wonder you have nightmares. I’d be more surprised if you didn’t. That’s an acre.”
“What?” Frederick looked at him in confusion.
“Sorry, it’s an old family joke. An acre is a measure of land, a lot. Yeah, what you said, that’s a whole lot.”
Freddie nodded. “If you like, I can try to get you your own hotel room or at least one where the beds are further apart.” Freddie ducked his head. “I should have done that to begin with. But the hotel was so full . . .”
“Hey, it’s fine.” Joel sat back in his own chair and took a long swig of his beer. “Both my father and my stepfather were in the military. I get it. Besides, I’ve had my share of panic-attack dreams.”
“Oh yeah?” Freddie asked, wondering what the American could possibly have nightmares about.
“Back when we were in college, my roommate Larry and I were running the Quarter—the French Quarter in New Orleans. After too many cocktails, we decided to walk home. We weren’t really paying attention to what we were doing, and a group of kids jumped us and beat the hell out of us.” Joel’s voice dropped. “They only stopped because someone driving by stopped their car, got out, and fired a gun in the air.”
“Scheiße,” Freddie gasped and leaned forward, feeling suddenly protective of the man.
“Exactly. America, what a place!” Joel grinned, but his eyes were misty. “It was terrible, but I learned something about myself.”
Freddie rested his chin on his hand. “Sometimes terrible situations teach you the most about yourself. What did you learn?”
“When they had us down and were beating us? I fought back. I always thought I was a coward. I avoided fights, but when my back was to the wall, I fought back. It was a revelation. I had nightmares about it for weeks, and to this day, I’m very careful at night and know where I am at all times. I mean, it’s nothing like what you’ve been through—obviously—but I can empathize.”
Freddie nodded, unsure of what to say. It didn’t surprise him that Joel fought back; he saw the fire in those deep-brown eyes. He didn’t intend to get into all of this but felt a little better for doing so. Still, he wanted to lighten the mood. “Hey, let’s watch the telly,” Freddie said brightly. “Something light and mindless . . . something American.”
Joel’s eyes crinkled at the corner; he clearly appreciated the little dig. “This from the guy whose country venerates David Hasselhoff.”
Freddie pointed a warning finger. “That’s Germany. I’m from Etreustein. Similar culture but not the same. That said, the Hoff is a legend.”
“You know what?” Joel lifted up his beer. “I agree with you.” They clinked their bottles together.
They climbed into their separate beds and watched Maid in Manhattan, of all things.
“My sister loves it. She has a guilty passion for American romcoms,” Freddie explained, but the truth was deeper. I can’t lie to him. Why can’t I lie to him? His shoulders slumped. “I also just don’t watch action movies anymore. I never know when one will trigger me.”
“I’m good with this,” Joel said, his eyes sparkling and agreeable.
Freddie’s head hung lower in embarrassment. It shouldn’t be this hard. I’m a failure.
Long after the movie ended, long after Joel fell asleep, Freddie sat awake in bed. His mind raced, reliving painful detail after painful detail of his life until finally he fell into a restless slumber.
❖
He scuttled over a rooftop, but he wasn’t sure where. Every village, every town, they all looked the same. Dimly, he realized this was a dream. He came out of it that far, but he couldn’t come all the way out. He could not wake up.
Raising up, he fired behind them as Noah jumped down to the neighboring roof. Once safe, Freddie followed, the gunfire close over their heads. He landed on the roof and rolled. Lying flat, he took a moment. The heat lay on his chest like a blanket and he struggled to catch his breath, to beat back the panic.
Chancing a look up, he saw a dark shape on a nearby roof. It wavered like a heat mirage. “Do you see that?” Freddie asked as his oppo crawled next to him.
“Move,” Noah hissed. “Your turn.”
“Let’s turn around, go the other way.” Disaster waited this way, that much Freddie knew.
“No, we’re pushing forward.” Noah didn’t hear him or ignored him. “We gotta go. We gotta move.”
“He’s got a rocket launcher!”
“Move, Ginger,” Noah commanded, and Freddie relented. The more senior partner, Noah knew best.
Jumping to the next roof, Freddie landed and then rolled. He took a knee and immediately looked to the man on the roof. The enemy moved closer, raising his rocket launcher. And Freddie shot at him. “Scheiße!”
There was a thud beside him. Dust and dirt from his oppo’s landing rose up.
“What the hell?” he spat, turning to his friend. “Noah?” But it wasn’t Noah, at least not his Noah. It was Maeve’s young son, and he was dead.
Freddie woke up, thrashing in bed, his heart pounding. As he shivered in the cool, recycled air, his eyes frantically darted around. Where am I? The time on the digital clock on the nightstand reminded him that he was in a hotel in London, near Heathrow. Noah had been dead for over a year, and he was not in the service anymore. Scheiße.
His new friend stirred on the nearby bed. “Are you okay?”
Lying back, Freddie took deep gulps of air. “Yeah, s’all right,” he mumbled, but his heart was trying to leap out of his chest. Counting backward from a hundred in threes, he was grateful it was so dark in the room that he didn’t have to look Joel in the eye.
“Freddie, are you okay?” Joel repeated. “Do you want me to . . . ?”
“No,” Freddie spat but caught himself. “I’m . . . I’m fine, thank you.” He cringed. Not only did he speak more harshly than he intended, but he also lied. I don’t think I’ll ever be okay. As attractive as he found the man on the bed next to him, he wanted him far away. I’m too damaged. The sooner we separate, the better.
Chapter Ten
Before You Go
The next morning, they found Heathrow even busier than the day before. There was a moment when they first arrived that Joel saw Freddie stiffen, and it worried him. Was it the crowd? The trooper looked on edge.
But after Freddie had a word with security, they made it through FastTrack in record time. Joel suspected again that there was something going on with that. They boarded the aircraft and were seated in first class! Joel never flew first class, preferring to spend his money on the vacation rather than the flight.
The trip to Geneva only took a couple of hours, but it was glorious. The extra legroom was a treat, and the flight attendants served them Champagne. They toasted to their good fortune.
“Dom Perignon? Nice,” Joel said. Freddie only smiled weakly, then turned away. It was obvious the man was not okay, but he couldn’t make him talk if he didn’t want to. All he could do was be there for him.
The stewardess tried chatting up Freddie in German, but he was not his usual animated self. Was it the prospect of being back home for the first time in years and seeing his family? Or did it have to do with
last night’s nightmare? Joel did not bring that up and didn’t think any less of him for it. After serving for years in a combat situation, it’d be surprising if Freddie didn’t have nightmares. Joel couldn’t imagine what that life was like.
At Geneva Airport, they took a taxi to Gare de Genève-Cornavin, the railway station. The driver expertly avoided the remaining protests at the airport, making their trip through the outskirts of the city largely unremarkable. The wide Route de Meyrin, their path to the railway station, was flanked by mostly modern buildings. It even had a McDonald’s of all things.
Joel had visited once before and stayed in the city proper. Geneva was a mélange of old and new, where large four-story eighteenth-century buildings topped with chimneys stood beside shiny glass offices. Much to his delight, Geneva also had surprisingly good sushi. The locals loved it.
At the railway station, they boarded a train for the trip to Etreustein. Nothing like high-speed rail existed in America, and Joel thought that was a shame. Reserved on the plane, now Freddie was all but silent.
“Hey, are you okay?” Joel nudged him affectionately as they settled in.
“I’m fine,” Freddie spat. “Sorry, I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”
“Ooookay,” Joel said. What is going on with him? Let it rest. Like he said, he has a lot on his mind. Joel spent the rest of the trip catching up on texts and emails on his phone.
Larry: I haven’t heard from you. Is everything okay?
Joel quickly sent him an update explaining the last twenty-four hours. It was a long moment before Larry sent another message.
Larry: Let me get this straight, you shared a room with a hot, Special Forces soldier but didn’t have sex with him? What is wrong with you?
Joel: I told you. I’m trying to make better choices. :-(
Larry: Sweetie, that’s great and all, but there are limits.
Joel: Yeah, maybe I should’ve jumped on it because now I think that window closed. He may be about to go all no homo once we get him home.