Squared Away

by Annabeth Albert

  The bar the SEAL teams favored was pretty close to base, so it didn’t take long to get there. And Mark was glad they’d ridden together as the parking lot was packed. Great. More people. Bacon and his best friend, Curly, had the biggest social circle Mark knew of, and sure enough, Bacon had to stop to greet multiple people on the way to the group of tables Curly and the rest of the gang had already secured.

  “What are you drinking?” Bacon asked after they made their greetings. “It’s on me.”

  “Guinness.” Mark was in the mood for something dark and broody.

  “Man, it is good to see your face.” Tovey came over to where Mark had positioned himself on the outer edge of the tables. Horvat was right behind him.

  “Good to see you too. You give ’em hell out there?”

  “Always.” Tovey grinned at him. “Needed stitches a few weeks back. Senior chief put them in. He’s nowhere near as neat as you.”

  “Seconded.” Horvat’s laugh had an intimate quality to it, like he’d personally inspected the scar. “But I hear you’re needed at BUD/S. Heard about the candidate you saved. Good work.”

  “It was all part of the job. I’m just glad he’s going to make it,” Mark said truthfully as Bacon slipped him his beer. Then changing the subject, he asked Horvat, “How’s the bakery? Business good?”

  Guilt pinged deep in his chest. He should have made more effort to make it in recently. Maybe Bacon was right. Maybe he was cutting himself off from his friends. Easier that way. They can’t leave if I’m not there.

  “Business is great. You should bring the kids in sometime. I’ve got some new cookies on the menu they’d like.” Horvat’s real name was Maddox, but Mark had served too many years with him before he went civilian to think of him as anything other than Horvat. But he had to admit that civilian life seemed to suit the big guy—he had new smile lines around his eyes and a beard that made him look like a hipster lumberjack.

  “Kids would like that.” Mark’s throat tightened without warning. Fuck. He missed them. Isaiah had been gone a lot lately, so even when Mark was home, he hadn’t had much chance to see them. He had another two days off coming up though, and he couldn’t wait to do something fun with them. Visiting the bakery would be nice, kids and Isaiah—

  Wait. No Isaiah. Mark needed to stop visualizing them doing things together when Isaiah had made it clear he was available for necessary kid handoffs only. But somehow his excitement about taking the kids on an outing dropped with Isaiah out of the picture.

  He’s the heart of this family. Too bad Mark couldn’t figure out how to work CPR on their relationship, get that heart back to beating.

  “Maybe I’ll try to come around then too,” Tovey suggested with a wink. “Your kids like dogs?”

  “Dogs plural?” Mark had to laugh. “You guys added a second?”

  “He needed a friend.” Tovey shrugged. “Plus, double the puppy pictures to my phone when we’re away.”

  “More like someone was visiting rescue sites again, saw one he couldn’t say no too.” Horvat laughed, but there was real affection there too. The two of them were never big on cutesy displays, but lord, the way they looked at each other was almost worse. It was like they could see into each other’s souls, like they got each other on a level no one else ever would.

  I had that. Maybe for just a few weeks, but Mark had had that. Isaiah understood him in a way no one else ever had. He got the parts of Mark that needed quiet, got when he needed to talk, when to press and when to let him be. And Mark got to see the Isaiah few others got to see—the passionate, obsessive guy when he was planning a garden, the tender caregiver, the loyal-to-a-fault friend. And you let it go. Idiot. How many chances did people get to find that in their lives? Life didn’t provide infinite chances.

  “You should get a dog for the kids. Might help them with the healing process.” Tovey was showing dog pictures all around—two cute mutts with various toys.

  The healing process. Was that what Mark was going through? He certainly didn’t feel healed, his anger and grief still fresh wounds. The only time this...pit had seemed bearable was when he’d had Isaiah to hug and hold. And now that was gone.

  “Maybe,” he allowed, but his brain was back to thoughts of Isaiah. A dog would only make sense if there was another adult full-time in the house. Someone else who wanted a pet for the kids. If Isaiah wasn’t there, if Mark had to get a nanny for the kids, it wouldn’t be fair to thrust a dog into the mix...

  Fuck. He did not want to get a nanny. He wanted Isaiah. Wanted him in his bed. Wanted him in his life. Wanted to take him to Horvat’s bakery. Get Tovey’s input on dog choices.

  Hey now. For the first time, Mark was visualizing Isaiah around his friends, and instead of terrifying him, it just made him nostalgic, made him want to see that. Isaiah already knew a lot of his crowd in passing. It would only have to be weird if you let it.

  At the other end of the tables, Curly’s girlfriend was showing off a pretty diamond ring. Oh goody, another wedding. Mark made the right words of congratulations come out, lifted his glass with everyone else, but inside he crumbled a little. Another reminder that people moved on, that they got something he’d never have.

  He wasn’t surprised when Bacon found him soon after the toasts. “You ready?”

  “Yeah. Let’s split.” They made their goodbyes then headed for Bacon’s truck after deciding that Bacon would take him back to base, rather than to the house.

  “Man. Tell me it’s not nice to be this jealous.” Bacon rested his head on the steering wheel for several beats before straightening and putting the truck in gear.

  “You want what Curly has?” Mark was surprised—he’d never really thought of Bacon as anything other than happily unattached, enjoying the single life.

  “Him. Horvat and Tovey. Did you see how they looked at each other all night? Save me from the eye fucking. And now they’ve got two dogs. Could they get any more perfect?”

  “Nope. But I never thought of you as the relationship type,” Mark admitted.

  “Gaaaa,” Bacon groaned. “You and every friend-with-benefits I’ve had the last few years. Few people are willing to put up with our schedule and risk long-term. And honestly, I think the sniper thing puts people off too.”

  “Maybe you’re looking in the wrong places.” Mark shrugged, unable to believe he was handing out dating advice.

  “Maybe.”

  “But you want that?” Mark pressed. “Even if it meant coming out to your team? I mean if your person wasn’t—”

  Bacon interrupted him with another frustrated groan. “My team...it’s complicated. Strange politics lately. But I find the person who’s the one? Who will put up with my shit? I don’t think I’m going to keep them a secret forever. That wouldn’t be fair to them. And I’m not going to lose my shot just because I don’t want people knowing I’m pan.”

  Lose my shot. Is that what Mark had done? Lost his shot? Maybe the only one he was going to get. And Bacon was a sniper. He knew that sometimes you only got a single chance. He got that. What if Mark was letting his shot slip away because he was too damn cowardly to pull the trigger?

  “What if it was a guy,” he whispered. “Your person. People would read you as gay, not pan—”

  “And I give a fuck why?” Bacon snorted. “Yeah. People are stupid. And think in binary ways. But I can’t control that. It doesn’t make me any less pan just because on a given night my partner identifies as a man. Or a woman.”

  “I guess that makes sense.”

  “Look. I’ve been in love before,” Bacon’s eyes got a far-off quality. “And it tore me apart. And I’d still do it again. Fuck the world and its narrow assumptions. That’s not what’s important. Assumptions don’t do fuck all to keep you warm at night.”

  “Truth.” Mark gave a weak laugh. Bacon would do it again. He’d clearly loved and lost
and he said he’d still do it again. He’d pull that trigger, take that chance. Why couldn’t Mark do the same? Take his shot.

  Because Bacon was right—worries about what the world would think were hardly comforting Mark, a piss poor substitute for everything that Isaiah brought to his life.

  “We’re here.” Bacon pulled in near Mark’s car. “You okay, man? Need to talk? I’ve been blabbering on about my shit, forgot to ask you how you’re coping?”

  “I’m...” Terrible. Awful. Coping. Wonderful when I’ve got Isaiah. And there it was—in the midst of everything awful about his life, the greatest loss he’d known, there was Isaiah and finding each other and that was wonderful. And special. And he’d thrown away the one thing that made everything else bearable. Take your shot.

  “I’m... I’m demisexual. Or maybe gray ace. I’m still figuring stuff out... But sometimes, I like guys. Like a crush or...” Fuck. He was babbling, words tumbling out now that he’d given them permission to surface at long last. He paused to give Bacon a chance to say something, anything. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic rhythm.

  “Congrats.” Bacon clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s a big deal, you trusting me enough to tell me. I appreciate that. And I’m just guessing here, but Isaiah, he’s part of this? One of the guys you’re attracted to?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So he’s your person now?”

  Your person. Bacon made it sound so simple, and maybe it was. My person. It just fit.

  “Yeah. He’s my person.” It was a strange relief, saying it aloud for the first time. “But I kinda fucked it up. And now I’ve got to fix it.”

  “You can.” Bacon’s voice was firm. “Chief, you’re the finest medic the U.S. Navy has produced. You’ve got this.”

  “I hope you’re right.” Mark took a breath. He could do this. He could fix this. Maybe he was Wizard after all. All he needed was the right plan of attack. “And I’ve got to go.”

  “Yeah, you do.” Bacon laughed. “But you let me know if there’s anything you need? I’m not the most on kids, but I could lend a hand.”

  “Thanks.” Mark hurried to his car. He needed to beat Isaiah home, needed to prepare for the most important mission of his life.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  It was late when Isaiah pulled in at the house, car full of sleepy kids. He’d had a late dinner with the aunts and his father, making plans and sharing stories. It was the sharing stories part that was most unexpected. Something seemed to have rattled loose with his father, made him want to be more connected to the family again. And for Aunt Cecily, sharing Cal stories seemed to be a big way she coped with her grief. So Isaiah had stayed and listened and eaten far more than his share of pork chops and blueberry pie. Aunt Louise could cook.

  The rift with Mark still loomed large, court date drawing closer, but the new closeness he had with his family was a blessing he didn’t want to discount. Led by his father, they were a united front, maybe for the first time ever, determined to keep the kids. And little by little, Isaiah was starting to actually believe they might win.

  Which was why he groaned aloud when he saw Mark’s car at the house. Hell. He did not want to follow his good day with another confrontation. Didn’t need Mark undercutting his newfound confidence. Or resurrecting his hope.

  No, that hope was laid to rest. He’d thought all week about how to broach a conversation with Mark, tell him what was in his heart, what he needed and deserved from him. But ultimately, he’d decided not to. He wasn’t sure he could open himself up to that kind of pain, not when Mark had made it so clear that he wasn’t going to change.

  “Hey.” Instead of hiding out in his room like Isaiah had expected, Mark appeared in the driveway walking toward the car. “Help you carry the kids in?”

  The petty part of Isaiah wanted to say no. But he wasn’t going to pick a fight in front of the girls, who’d been clamoring to see Mark. “Sure. I guess. You take the girls. It’s almost bedtime.”

  “Who wants a story?” Mark asked as he lifted Zoe into his arms and freed Daphne from her booster seat.

  “Me! Me!” Two little voices echoed and Isaiah’s stomach soured. Don’t be stupid, he lectured himself. They deserve some Mark time. And they did, even if it made his heart ache, listening to Mark play with them, chasing them through the house.

  He took his time getting Liam his nighttime bottle, and when he made his way upstairs, the girls were already in pajamas and Mark was reading, doing his silly voices for elephant and piggy in the story.

  This should have been us. This should be them getting the kids ready for bed, then hanging out themselves, reconnecting after a long day. But instead, that dream was dust, and all Isaiah had was bittersweet memories, a glimpse at a future that was never meant to be.

  “Ba!” Liam reminded him what he needed to focus on, and Isaiah settled in the rocking chair with him. Usually rocking the baby was soothing, but that night he was too keyed up to enjoy it. Finally, he got the baby settled in the crib and was creeping out of the room when Mark appeared in the doorway.

  “Can we talk?”

  “Not sure we have much to say.” Isaiah kept his voice down as he followed Mark into the hall.

  “I do.” Mark was firm. “Got something to show you.”

  “Fine. Downstairs.” Isaiah refused to be curious about what Mark might have. And no way was he inviting him into his bedroom to talk. That place was rife with enough memories as it was.

  Mark headed for the family room, which held its own set of memories, and Isaiah had to shake his head, tell visions of their first kiss to take a hike. He deliberately sat at the opposite end of the couch from Mark, leaving a vast swath of leather between them, and still it didn’t feel like enough space.

  “Talk,” he ordered. “And make it quick.”

  “Okay. You’re angry. I’ve earned that. But see, I’ve been rehearsing this all evening, so you’re going to have to bear with me.” Mark sounded uncharacteristically nervous. And Mark rehearsing words? Despite himself, despite everything, Isaiah was intrigued.

  “Go on.” He made a sweeping gesture with his hand.

  “I’ve never really told you what it’s like out in the field. What it’s like being Wizard.”

  “Tell me.” Isaiah’s pulse sped up, same way it had the first time he’d gotten Mark to part with a secret.

  “Well, I’m the guy of last resort—I’m the one they yell for when shit’s already gone sideways. When they call for me, I know it’s not good, and that it’s up to me—and only me—to save the day. I’ve pulled out bullets in the middle of a firefight, stitched head wounds in the jungle, re-inflated lungs miles from hospitals. And I know my guys. I know their names. Their stupid jokes. Their families. Their kids. They are my brothers and they’re depending on me. They need me. They would literally die for me, lie down so I could do my job, save someone else on the team.”

  “Intense.” Isaiah wasn’t sure what else to say.

  “And I have to trust each of them to do their best job so that I can do mine. But when the chips are down, it’s just me and the injury, doing battle with God, and I’m the one who has to tell God not today. And I’m not a wizard. I’m not the larger-than-life medic I idolized when I was a kid. I’m just Mark, trying like hell to not send anyone home in a body bag.”

  “You’ve always been Mark to me,” Isaiah said quietly because it seemed to matter. “And Mark’s enough.”

  “I know. And I appreciate that. So much.” Mark took a deep breath. “I guess what I’m trying to say is I don’t trust easily. If there’s something medical that needs doing, I’m going to be the one, no question. I rely on my buddies to keep me safe, but I’m the one I trust the most. And after my parents died, it was even easier to completely throw myself into the job, into the myth that I was in control. It was easier than facing my grief and my g
uilt and the knowledge that probably nothing could have kept my dad from flying that plane. I keep guys safe every day, but I couldn’t save the people I loved the most. That hurt.”

  “I know.” Isaiah scooted closer. “But it wasn’t your fault. Not your parents’ deaths. Not Cal’s and Danielle’s. You’re right, there’s nothing you could have done. But that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t suck. And trying to be the myth, 24/7, that’s hard, man. You can’t keep that kind of control up.”

  “Yeah. That’s what I’m realizing. But it’s hard to give up that illusion of control. Harder still to trust someone else to take point on something critical. So when Cal and Dani died, it didn’t even occur to me that someone else could be in charge. It just seemed natural that it was up to me to save the situation. When they told me the news, I just...knew that the kids were my responsibility from that moment on. And sure I could delegate, the same way I do during a mission, but the ultimate responsibility was mine.”

  “You’re great in an emergency. But not every day can be code red or whatever, Mark. You can’t live your life on high alert. And you can’t control everything. Sometimes, even, it’s good to share responsibility.” He’d really come to see that in the past week himself, getting his dad and others involved. It was infinitely easier than when it was him versus the world, and he wished Mark could see the same thing.

  “I’m figuring that out. But before I figured out about sharing the burden, I had the worst reaction to seeing you with the kids when I first got here.”

  “Oh?” Isaiah was pretty sure he wasn’t going to like this.

  “I... I saw how good you were with them. How they loved you. How you were re-arranging your life for them. And I... I wanted it to be you. I wanted the will to give you guardianship, so that I could go back to being Wizard, back to the myth I’d built up for myself, and I hated that about myself. Felt like I was running from responsibility. And I don’t run. And when Dani’s will said me, it felt like I’d let her down if I gave voice to that want. It was my job, plain and simple. No passing it off to someone else, even if part of me really wanted to.”