Luckily, he was able to avoid some of that because his mom wanted a picture of him with the senior chief and his wife, and White wanted one of the two of them together.
“SEALs represent, hooyah.” White leaned in, still with the dopey grin. After his wife took the picture, he added, “We’ll have you by when we find a place, okay?”
“That sounds great.” The whole while, Bacon was scanning for Spencer. If he’d stayed, he’d be hanging back. Some big public declaration wasn’t his style, and besides, he wouldn’t want to embarrass Bacon. And who knew, he still might not want anyone knowing they were friends.
While others got slices of cake, he got out his phone on the pretext of wanting a picture of him and his mom. No new messages when he unlocked the screen, so he dashed off a very fast message. Don’t leave.
Not wanting to seem rude, he didn’t wait for a reply, instead handing the phone to Isaiah to get a few pictures of him and his mom together. Then she wanted one of him by the flag, holding his wooden plaque that commemorated his advancement. He tried to be patient. It was her day too. She’d wanted this for him as long as he had.
His eyes finally found Spencer, hanging out near some large metal equipment at the rear of the hangar. Don’t leave, he willed him as he accepted more congratulations. The crowd was finally starting to thin somewhat. Bacon put an arm around his mother, giving her a squeeze.
“Tell you what, you and my plaque head to my truck.” He handed her his keys. “Be thinking about where you want me to take you to eat, and I’ll catch up with you quickly. I see someone I need to say hello to.”
“That sounds fine.” She hugged him back, visibly brightening at the prospect of getting to leave the crowd, and Bacon waited until she had headed out of the hangar to walk over to Spencer.
“Can we talk?” he asked.
“Figured that was my line.” Spencer’s eyes were guarded. “I got your message. I wasn’t going to just leave, but I don’t want to take you away from your people...”
“You’re not. I think all the back-slapping and picture taking is done. I sent my mom ahead to the truck, so I’ve got a minute if you walk with me.”
“I can do that.” Spencer followed him outside. “That was a really moving ceremony. The little girl who pinned on her mother’s anchors was so sweet. You should all be so proud of your achievements.”
“Spencer.” Bacon pulled up short next to a tree. “Why are you here? And don’t tell me you’re writing a story about pinning ceremonies.”
“It would make a good story...” A small smile crept across Spencer’s face, but it was quickly extinguished. “But, no, I came for you. I wanted to see you. And I know I probably shouldn’t have. It was self-indulgent of me, wanting to see your big day.”
“I’m glad you came.” He really was, no matter what was coming next, even if Spencer was about to break his heart for the second time.
“Really? I thought you might be pissed. You’ve got every right to hate me right now.”
“Oh, I’m still angry.” Bacon started walking again, not able to keep still with all the emotions ricocheting through him. “And hurt. You all but shoved me away, Spencer. You made your choice very clear. How did you expect I’d feel?”
“I never wanted to hurt you. It killed me too, letting you go. Couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t eat. Couldn’t write.”
Bacon was having trouble summoning a lot of sympathy when he had a feeling it was the last one that Spencer really cared about.
“That why you’re here? Writer’s block? Need my magic dick to get you writing again? And then you’ll get back to treating me like crap, moving on?”
Spencer’s eyes went wide and his skin mottled, like Bacon had slapped him. “Wow. Okay. You really weren’t kidding about angry. And I deserve that. But, no, I’m not here to cure my writer’s block. I came to apologize. To ask for a second chance.”
For two weeks, Bacon had waited for him to say those words, but now that the moment was here, he wasn’t sure how to react. He slowed to a stop, leaned against a lamp post.
“I’m not sure.”
“I’m dropping the book.” Spencer licked his lips and looked away, uncharacteristically nervous. Probably because he knew Bacon was about to unleash on him.
“You are not. Absolutely, positively not. That book needs you to write it.”
“And I need you in my life more.” Spencer was nothing if not earnest.
And fuck. Bacon could not be doing this right now. He’d waited for those words, but wasn’t sure he could ask Spencer to pay that price. He made a frustrated noise.
“Just think about it, okay? Go, have your meal with your mom. You earned it. I reserved a hotel room here. Text me after dinner, or anytime really, if you want to talk.”
“Oh we’re not done.” He gave Spencer a hard stare. “And you’re coming.”
“I’m doing what?” Spencer blinked.
“You want another chance with me?”
“I do.”
“Then impress my mom.”
“Seriously?”
Oh, Bacon had forgotten how much fun it could be to knock Spencer off-kilter. “Oh yeah. You want me? I’m done being your secret boy toy. I want the real deal if we do this again.”
“If?”
“If,” he said firmly. It wasn’t just a matter of making Spencer work for it. He honestly wasn’t sure where his own thoughts lay—he did not want Spencer giving up the book for him. He didn’t care if Spencer had the worst case of writer’s block ever, he was going to write that. Everything else...
Well, he just wasn’t sure. But the part of him that was glad Spencer had come down to watch his ceremony was in there too, as was the part that wanted Spencer to meet his mom. He was more than a little bit of a mess. And if doing dinner bought him some time to think, so much the better.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“This is a crazy idea.” Spencer tried to keep up with Del’s determined march across the parking lot.
“Yup. Reckless and impulsive. That’s me, remember? But this isn’t one of my worst ideas.”
“Oh?”
“You want to be friends, right?” There was something uncertain on Del’s face but he continued on. “Wouldn’t friends be better than this awful...missing each other business?”
“Us together would be better,” Spencer countered. Then because Del had said he needed time to think and he didn’t want to be the guy continually going for the hard sell all evening, he added, “But, yes, I’d like to think we could be friends too. I miss the friendship stuff almost more than the relationship stuff.”
Del sighed heavily as they caught sight of his truck. Spencer had only ridden in the souped-up four door Silverado a handful of times, but he recognized the distinctive silver color with black trim and red accents. It gave the country truck more of a punk edge, suiting the man himself.
“The relationship you were determined not to have.” Del shook his head.
“I didn’t count on falling in love with you,” he admitted.
“Dude.” Del whirled on him. “You don’t get to go trotting that word out now.”
“Sorry. Timing. But it’s the truth.”
“Here’s what we’re gonna do.” All of a sudden, Del was Bacon again, the SEAL with a plan back on that island. “We’re going to have a nice meal with my mom—and no, you’re not going to wheedle out of it—and you’re going to talk about teens doing business and whatever else you’re working on these days. And we’re not going to mention that word again. Yet.”
Spencer’s pulse sped up at the world of potential in that yet. And knowing Del had kept up with him made him stand a little taller. “You heard my NPR piece?”
“I did. Now behave.” Del approached the passenger side of the truck. The window was down, and the woman Spencer had seen earlier with him sat t
here, country music coming out the speakers.
“Messing with my presets again, I see.” Del gave her an easy smile.
“You know I don’t like that garage-band stuff of yours.” She returned his smile, but her eyes narrowed as she caught sight of Spencer.
“Mom, this is my friend, Spencer. He came down from LA to watch my ceremony. Would it be okay if he ate with us?”
She worried her lip with her teeth, and Spencer was afraid he’d already failed this test.
“I recognize you. From the back of the book Junior gave me for Christmas. You’re the writer.”
“I am. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell Del I was coming. I understand if you’d rather have him to yourself.”
“Of course you’re welcome.” She patted her short, grayish-blond hair. Other than the hair, she looked a lot like Del—long, lean build, intelligent blue eyes, and generous mouth. “I’ll just move to the back—”
“You will not.” Spencer swung himself into the backseat before she could protest further. “I’m fine back here.”
Del went around the driver’s side and got in, switching the radio off. “Now where do you want to eat, Mom?”
“It’s your day,” she demurred.
“It’s yours as much as mine. Couldn’t have done it without you.” Del gave her a smile so filled with love that Spencer’s chest hurt. He wanted to earn that look too.
“You’re sweet.” She patted Del’s hand.
“And we all know that there’s a grand total of three places you’ll let me take you to.”
“Now, Junior, I’m just not as adventurous as you. But your friend probably is...”
“I can eat anything,” Spencer said, even if that wasn’t quite true. But he was supposed to be charming her. “Pick your favorite.”
That turned out to be a fifties-style diner near the airport, which Del already had saved in his truck’s GPS.
“Mom lives for their cookies-and-cream milkshake.” Del gave her a fond look before putting the truck in Drive. Spencer really liked getting to see this side of Del, the loving son who liked indulging his mother.
On the drive there, Spencer was content to listen to the two of them banter, Del threatening to make her try some Mexican place again, her telling him not to plan on stealing her fries.
“He can have mine,” Spencer offered, this entire jaunt feeling rather surreal. But if it got him forgiveness faster, he was all for it.
“Their onion rings are amazing too.” Del turned into the crowded parking lot for the restaurant. To his mom, he said, “Spencer usually eats healthy. We’re probably corrupting him.”
“Hey, Spencer can eat a burger,” he protested. So far, he probably wasn’t making the best impression, which was somewhat disheartening. He’d never really had to impress parents before, never really cared about making them like him. But then nothing had ever mattered quite as much as Del, securing a future for them.
“Prove it.” Del’s eyes flashed at him as they exited the truck. Spencer was more than a little tempted to kiss him, get him as off balance as Spencer was. But his mother was right there, looking between them with undisguised speculation, so he restrained himself.
Instead, he went into reporter mode while they waited for their food, asking Del’s mother all about her work at an elementary school as an aide. Her love of her work shone through, as did Del’s obvious pride in her. He also followed Del’s orders to talk about the story about the teen business owners, which she asked good questions about, and he ended up telling them both about a piece he’d pitched to a national magazine about the rise of crowd-funded podcasts as a legitimate media source.
“You should do one. I’ve listened to some of the ones you’ve guested on, and you always do well.” Del was dipping fries in house-made ranch, and Spencer was trying not to cringe at that combo.
They hadn’t been lying about the food being good—the onion rings, something he hadn’t eaten in maybe a decade, were perfection with a crispy batter, and the burger was thick and juicy with an amazing sauce. Del talked him into trying a milkshake full of real strawberries. Del, as usual, managed to pack away his own food as well as extras from his mom and Spencer.
“Got a long run tomorrow. I’ll burn it all off.” Del patted his nonexistent gut as they finished. And damn, he looked even more edible than the milkshake in that khaki dress uniform.
There was a brief tussle over the check with all three of them making a play for it. Spencer, however, had more experience being fast with his credit card than either of them.
“Do you want to come along while I take Mom home?” Del asked.
“Sure.” Spencer tried not to sound like he was desperate to get Del alone even though he totally was. He continued his role of trying to get Del’s mother talking while they drove to Chula Vista. She seemed happy enough to answer his questions, but she was reserved, hard to get a read on, a problem Spencer didn’t usually have with interview subjects. Usually, he was good at putting people at ease and reading their cues, but he was all kinds of off right then.
When they arrived at the small two-story apartment complex, they all got out of the truck—Spencer to move to the front seat, and Del to hover over his mother.
“You want me to walk you up?” he asked her.
“No, Junior. You and your friend are probably eager for time to talk, just the two of you.”
Del laughed. “Spencer’s the person I told you about—the one who broke up with me a few weeks ago.” He delivered this news matter-of-factly, and Spencer had to fight the urge to ask him what the hell he was getting at, telling her that.
“Oh.” His mother’s mouth formed a perfect circle. “I thought I had a feeling...”
“Figured you might.” Del hugged her. “He wants to win me back, but I told him he has to impress you first. How’d he do?”
Way to put the woman on the spot, Del, he tried to say with his eyes. And he was far more nervous about her response than he had any right to be.
“You call Junior Del,” she said instead of giving a direct answer. “Why is that?”
“Because that’s who he is to me. I like having something special to call him. He’s special to me.” Since Del had said no L-word talk, he left it at that.
“He is special,” she agreed. “I’m not the type to lecture. But just...take care of him? Okay?”
“I’d like to try.” Every ounce of Spencer’s longing came out in his words, and at last, she smiled. Del, infuriatingly, said nothing, and his expression remained unreadable.
“Good.” She had a big hug for Del and a shrewd look for him before walking away.
Del waited until they saw her unlock her second-floor unit before speaking. “What lot did you park at back on base?”
“What? That’s it? You’re just going to take me back to my car?”
“Chill, Spencer. I am one hundred percent capable of talking and driving at the same time. And it’s been a hell of a long day for me.”
“I’m sure.” Spencer softened his tone. “We could go to my hotel, let you rest...”
“We both know if I come up to your room, we’re fucking.” Del’s voice was firm as he pulled out of his mother’s parking lot. “And I’m still not sure that’s such a good idea.”
“Because you’re still mad? I’m so, so sorry I hurt you, Del. That wasn’t my intention—”
“Yeah, it kind of was.” Del drummed his fingers against the steering wheel at a red light. “You intended to choose your story over me. Over us. And I’m more than a little worried about the next time you decide a story’s more important than what we have together.”
“It’s not going to happen. I told you. I’m giving up the book. I want us to be together. I want to put us first from here on out.”
“Yeah, well, I’m working on believing you about putting us first. And as for t
he other, I don’t think you should give up the book for me. That’s a recipe for resentment right there.”
“I’m not going to resent you. I couldn’t.” His voice shook as Del took the on ramp for Highway 75 faster than he was ready for. The sun was setting over the San Diego bay, and the scenery should have relaxed him, but he couldn’t let go of the tension coursing through him. This was too important.
Del shook his head like he didn’t believe Spencer. “I’ve thought about this nonstop for two weeks straight, and I’m not sure there’s a compromise. I want you to write this book. The world needs this book. It needs you to write it. It’s good, important work.”
“You wanted me to drop it,” Spencer reminded him. “You asked for that, actually.”
“Yeah, well, that wasn’t right of me. I’ve been reminded just how needed your sort of reporting is. But I’m just not sure I’m prepared to deal with the professional fallout if you publish it and we’re together. I want to say yes, yes I’ll deal. Because I do care about you that much, and I want to be together that much, but fuck, I just made chief.”
“I know. It’s not fair to put you in the middle if Naval PR decides to come after me.”
“I really want to be that guy for you, Spencer. The one who tells you write what you need to write and that we’ll deal.” Del’s eyes were dark and pained.
“Us being together is the important part,” Spencer insisted. “And I was wrong to choose to put the story ahead of that. You believing in the project, wanting me to do it, that does mean something to me. It really does, but I’m not going to put you in that position.”
Tight Quarters Page 23