Wheels Up

by Annabeth Albert

  “Lieutenant. You got a minute?” The senior chief came up to Dustin’s desk area, which was right outside the LT’s office.

  “For you? I’ve got at least ten.” Dustin forced himself to smile, but he really did like his senior chief, who treated all the enlisted men under him with great respect and who ran a fair, clean operation. Gray-haired and taller than the LT, the senior chief carried himself with authority, even when leaning against Dustin’s desk. “What’s up?”

  “I’m looking at our schedule. Seems to me, after this afternoon’s debriefing schedule, we’ve got at least three days downtime.”

  “Yeah. We’ll probably be quiet into next week before we gear back up. Week after next we’ve got a jump training if they don’t deploy us again before that.”

  “What do you say I lean on the LT about some of those leave requests we had before the last mission? See if we can’t get Lowe in particular some days to go back home. Word I’ve heard is that his family situation’s continuing with his sister’s health not looking so good.”

  Dustin had to make himself nod like he was just hearing about Wes’s sister for the first time and not like he had intimate knowledge from the other night. “That’s a shame.” He chose his next words carefully. “I trust your judgment. If you think he needs the leave, you talk to the LT. You have my full support though.”

  “I do. And my wife works for a travel firm. If the LT will grant the request, I can probably get him on a flight back east after the briefing, make it easier on him than waiting around on a transport.”

  Dustin nodded, again being very deliberate with his word choice. He could not be seen trying to cash in a favor of any sort here or showing favoritism. Fuck. This fine line business sucked. “Your wife’s a good woman. I’ll let you handle this. And Donaldson wanted some leave too, right? I support your judgment call on these things.”

  “Yeah. We’ll see if we can get Donaldson and Lowe both sorted out. Thanks, Lieutenant.” With that, the senior chief headed into the LT’s office.

  Dustin said a fast prayer that the LT would grant the requests. Wes might be nervous about going back home, but it would be good for him to see his family. Dustin had piles of leave stockpiled that he never used. He wished he could gift it to Wes, let him stay out there until the transplant came through, but of course that wasn’t how things worked.

  They had the debriefing session about the mission with the men in the afternoon, where Dustin very carefully positioned himself away from Wes, who was sitting with Curly and Bacon and looking rather haggard, eyes even more hooded and broody than usual. If the LT was granting the leave request, Wes clearly hadn’t heard about it yet. Dustin wished he could say something to him, lift his spirits in some way.

  After the meeting, Dustin had some more paperwork to catch up on. He was just pulling into his condo with some takeout for dinner when his phone chimed with a message.

  At the airport. I know you’re going to say you had nothing to do with this. But thank you. You know what this means to me.

  Oh man. Dustin’s chest clenched hard. He typed a fast reply. Nothing I did, promise. Thank the senior chief.

  Wes’s answer came while Dustin was dishing out his food. Plane’s about to board. Thanks again for talking me off the ledge the other night.

  It was a nice note to end on. No need to reply at all. However, Dustin’s fingers tapped out an answer before he could stop them. Message me when you get there?

  Keeping the lines of communication open between the two of them was not a good idea at all. And yet he seemed powerless over the need to know Wes was okay. And when Wes didn’t message him from the flight, he should have pushed Wes from his mind, but instead he dreamed of him—and not the dirty kind he often had, but just them talking, Dustin trying to help him make sense of things, the two of them working together. Ordinary stuff that shouldn’t have made him sad to wake up, but there he was, rubbing his eyes at the crack of dawn, wishing he could stay a little longer with dream Wes.

  When he picked up his phone, there was finally a new message.

  Made it. Sam says hi. Wes had attached a picture of him sitting on the edge of a hospital bed with a smiling young woman in a blue hospital gown who had Wes’s dark hair and light eyes. Wes looked exhausted but happier than Dustin had seen him in weeks.

  He should just leave it, not reply. This was a new level of personal involvement, sharing family pics. And yet warmth spread across his chest. He liked that Wes had shared that, far more than he should. Hi, Sam. Glad you made it, Wes. Get some rest, okay?

  Wes’s reply was a flirty wink. Wish I had you to nap with. Take care.

  He headed into base, mood weirdly lighter for having talked to Wes, even a little. He was so, so screwed.

  * * *

  “So tell me about your guy.” Sam was sitting cross-legged on her hospital bed, new tablet in front of her, smile the picture of innocence but her eyes sparkling with mischief.

  “I don’t have a guy.” Wes quickly pocketed his phone. He’d just sent Dustin a picture of Sam with the tablet he’d gotten her. That had been a great suggestion of his as Sam had squealed when he brought it in, and Wes and his dad had had fun at the electronics store picking it and some accessories out for her. It had been nice to see his dad smile too, to have something concrete for both of them to do for Sam.

  “Yes, you do.” Sam all but bounced on the bed, a ridiculous amount of energy for someone as sick as the doctors all said she was. “You keep messaging someone and smiling to yourself when they message back. And you blush if I try to see your phone.”

  “I don’t blush. At anything.” He stared her down. Sick or not, he was still the big brother. “And there’s no guy. At least not like what you’re thinking.”

  “Aha! So there is someone.” She beamed at him. “Come on. Mom’s not in here. Give me the juicy details. Is he cute?”

  He’s my commanding officer, and he’s built like Thor with the face of a movie star and I can’t get him out of my head. But Wes couldn’t share any of that. “Just a friend. Sort of.”

  They shouldn’t even be that. Shouldn’t be sharing this constant stream of messages back and forth during Wes’s visit here in Raleigh.

  “Like a friend with benefits?” Sam leaned forward eagerly. “I want one of those.”

  “Samantha Jane Lowe. You are not having a fu—friend with benefits. Ever.” He laughed even as he tried to be stern. God, he loved his sister.

  “You’ll see. When I get my new heart I’m going to be unstoppable. Maybe even before then. Gonna flirt with all the medical students on my case until one bites.”

  Wes’s throat went tight. He wanted that future for her so badly. One with a working heart and a zest for life and all the flirting she could stand. “You’ll get there,” he said thickly. “You’re only eighteen. No med students for you.”

  Only eighteen. Too young to die. He tried to banish such dark thoughts, especially once his mom came back into the room. She stood in front of the chair he’d held down for most of the past two days.

  “Wes, you are sleeping at home tonight, and that’s an order. You’re leaving in the morning, and I don’t want you to spend another night in the chair here.” She shooed him out of the reclining chair.

  “I’ve slept far worse places than the hospital,” he protested, even as he let her tug him up. Didn’t need her straining something.

  “I’m staying in your place.” His dad followed his mother into the room, balancing two large coffees and a thick paperback. “Now, what’s this I hear from Sam about you having a boyfriend?”

  “Sam,” Wes groaned. “There’s no boyfriend. Or friend. Not really. Just some guys on the team.”

  That last part wasn’t a lie—Curly and Bacon and the senior chief had all messaged to check in on him here, and there was a nice potted plant on t
he table in the corner of the room from the senior chief and his wife and a balloon bouquet from all the guys on the team next to it. He bet Curly’s girlfriend was behind the ordering of the balloons, but it was nice to be included in their friendship circle. His old team back at Little Creek had also sent a bear in a sailor suit and balloons, and surprisingly, seeing all their names didn’t feel quite as raw as it had a month ago.

  “Well, why don’t we head back home, and you can message your not-a-boyfriend from your old room, where you will sleep.” His mom led him to the door of the room. “I worry about you, honey. You’ve barely slept since you got here.”

  “I just don’t want to miss anything. Want to maximize my time here,” Wes mumbled, not wanting to get into his soul-crushing insomnia with his mom, or the weird emotions that made him want to watch Sam sleep, to reassure himself that she was okay for another few hours. Felt selfish to sleep when his time home was so short.

  “Your room misses you too.” His mom herded him toward the parking garage after a few more protests and a quick goodbye to Sam. “We’ll come back in the morning, and y’all can say your goodbyes then.”

  Goodbye. Fuck. Wes wasn’t ready for that. Wasn’t ready for it to maybe be the last time he saw Sam.

  As if she could read his thoughts, his mom patted his arm. “We have to be positive, right? You’ll be back soon, and we’ll get the call any day now. You saw how good she’s looking. Every doctor who’s been in has commented how much better she’s doing than her tests would suggest.” Stopping by their minivan, she looked expectantly up at Wes.

  “She looks great. Can’t believe how spunky she is.” He wished he could promise his mom that this would all work out, that a successful transplant would happen before Sam worsened again. “Wish I could do more for you and Dad though. Y’all must be exhausted.”

  “You do plenty.” His mom handed him the keys. She hated to drive, always letting him or his dad do it. Sam had never been healthy enough to get her license, and Wes tried to stay positive, like his mom said, think of a future where Sam could ferry their mom all around the city.

  He knew the drive from the hospital back to their neighborhood far too well, even after years of deployments and being up at Little Creek. As he’d expected, his mom fell asleep ten minutes into a TV show they’d both been pretending to watch. He headed up to his old room, digging out his phone as he went up the stairs, a little thrill going up his spine at a new message.

  She looks so happy. Glad the tablet was a hit. Have they said anything about letting her come home? The message was from only a few minutes ago, and Dustin’s chat icon was still illuminated.

  Wes couldn’t help smiling even as he typed the grim news. No. She’s still recovering from the last surgery, and they say she’s far less stable than she looks. Which sucks.

  Dustin’s reply came quickly. How are you holding up? Sleeping?

  Wes shut his bedroom door, before hitting the call button. “Too tired to type,” he said when Dustin picked up. As he’d figured, Dustin was at the condo, probably finishing his dinner judging by his place on his couch. His hair was damp, suggesting he’d showered when he’d come in from base.

  “Hey. Let me grab a shirt?” Dustin brushed at his bare chest.

  “Oh, don’t go messing with my view,” Wes joked. “I’m here in my childhood room, with only old pictures of Michael Phelps mixed in with all my triathlon stuff to keep me company.”

  “Awww. You got a row of trophies?” Dustin didn’t seem in any hurry to get a shirt, which suited Wes just fine. He moved the phone so Dustin could have a view of the room.

  “Right there. My dad had to build a second shelf for them.” Wes zoomed in on the shelves then moved the camera to show the rest of the room—full-size bed in the corner under the trophy shelves, desk, and the aforementioned Michael Phelps posters. Oh and the Dierks Bentley poster on the door. Couldn’t forget that.

  “Cute. Am I the first guy you’ve had in here?” Dustin laughed before taking a drink of a beer he had next to him.

  “Nope. Sorry.” Wes smiled at the camera like a loon. He appreciated how Dustin always seemed to know when he needed the distraction of conversation that wasn’t about Sam and her health. They were coasting down a very slippery slope, all these conversations and messages, but hell if he could stop now. “Thank God, my mom’s asleep downstairs so she can’t hear me tell you that I lost my virginity in that bed with the catcher on our baseball team. We made our way around all the bases my senior year.”

  “Lucky catcher. I lost mine in the back seat of a Neon.”

  “That must have been a tight squeeze.” Wes stretched out on the bed, moving the camera back so he could see Dustin’s face. “And you never fooled around with a friend or anything before that? A guy I mean?”

  “No.” Dustin sighed and scrubbed at his hair. “Too...something. Feels like it took me longer than most people to figure things out. I was eighteen and the summer before I left for the Academy before I even kissed a girl. I lied to all my buddies that it had happened way sooner than that. Went all the way with her on the Fourth of July because it felt like that was what she wanted from me.”

  “Wow. Nice fireworks.” Wes wasn’t sure what to add, but he wanted to keep Dustin talking. “But you didn’t notice guys around school or anything?”

  “I was at the Academy first time I got attracted to a guy. Apollo and I were out in DC, newly twenty-one and at a pretty mixed bar. Apollo was chatting this guy up, when all of a sudden it hit me that I wanted him too. He was holding on to Apollo’s arm with this big hand, and man, I wanted that hand on me.”

  “And what happened after that?” Wes’s own hand itched, wishing it could run all over Dustin’s body.

  “Apollo got bored of him, and I never saw him again. And I spent a lot of years trying to sort myself out.” Dustin made a face and took another swig of his beer. “I’m sure that doesn’t make a lot of sense to you. You probably knew exactly what you liked, in bed I mean, even back then with your catcher guy?”

  “Ha.” Wes laughed at the memory. “Not hardly. He fucked me. Even with months of concerted effort on my part, he never let me do him. And even then, trust me, no one was tying anyone to the bed. I might have been more clear about who I wanted in bed with me, but it’s taken me some time to admit what really gets my crank going.”

  “The bossy stuff?” Dustin’s eyes were tense, but he sank down into the couch cushions. “I guess I thought it would be easier for you since that’s what people expect. People think SEAL and they think...what does Dylan always call it...toppy? They think, ‘Oh yeah, that guy likes to be in charge.’ It’s harder, liking something...different.”

  “But not wrong.” Wes wished he could reach through the phone, give Dustin a hug. “And no, it’s not always easier. I’m supposed to be a nice guy. It wasn’t the easiest to accept the part of me that really gets off on putting the hurt on someone.”

  “I like it when you do.” Dustin’s whisper was hard to hear through the phone. “Like it so much that it scares me.”

  “Me too,” Wes whispered back, fingers digging into his thigh with the need to touch Dustin.

  “I’ve never even talked about it with anyone, not really. I had a woman once ask me my fantasies, but then she shared first, and it was really clear that she wanted to be the one tied up and overpowered. And why doesn’t that work for me—pretty, sweet woman wants to let me do whatever I want to her, and I’m the one needing to think about the feel of rope to get off with her?”

  Wes hated the anguish in Dustin’s voice. “You like what you like. Nothing to be ashamed of. And no one has to know what you like behind closed doors. It’s between you and the person you’re with.” A nicer guy than Wes would probably encourage Dustin to try baby-steps in the kink pool, visit a leather bar or try another hookup, considering that he wasn’t supposed t
o be doing anything with Wes. But Wes couldn’t bring himself to say anything like that. He wanted to be the one showing Dustin what he liked, exploring together, as impossible as that dream was.

  “And why does it have to feel so good talking about these things with you?” Dustin rubbed the back of his neck. “Fuck. Look at me unloading when you’ve got so much on your plate—”

  “Don’t be sorry,” Wes said quickly. “I like talking to you. Kinks. Family stuff. Whatever. And I needed my mind off Sam for a bit, so actually this helped.”

  “I wish...” Dustin trailed off, and Wes had a feeling what he was going to say. I wish I was there. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking on his part, because he really wanted Dustin here with him, squeezed into this too-small bed, not getting it on, just talking after a long day. Holding him, letting Dustin’s bulk warm him all the way through. And his family would love Dustin—well, apart from the whole shitload of trouble even their friendship could cause, let alone anything else. But his mom had waited so long for him to meet a guy like Dustin. Why did it have to be you? his brain howled.

  “I wish too,” Wes said, voice rough. “I wish so much.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  I wish things were different. Dustin fingered his phone for the zillionth time that day. Wes was on his way back to California, and the sane thing would have been to end last night’s phone call on the melancholy note of acknowledging how much they both wished things weren’t like this. But no, he’d talked to him for another hour about stupid stuff, just wanting to keep Wes on the phone. And instead of ending with a reminder that they had to stop these messages, he’d told Wes to message him when he was back safe.

  “What’s with you?” Dylan bumped Dustin’s shoulder as he passed him his beer. They were out for his and Apollo’s bachelor party, which was really just an excuse for beer and arcade games.

  “Shouldn’t there be strippers or something?” he grumbled, ignoring the question. “I feel like I’m falling down on the best man duties here.”