Just Drive

by L. A. Witt

  My stomach dropped into my feet. I hadn’t thought about that, and now that it was out there, I . . . couldn’t argue.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “I’m sure,” I snapped.

  Dad sighed. “For God’s sake. You know I’m not doing this for kicks. You’re my son. Of course I care about you.”

  “More than you care about your fucking career?” As soon as the words were out, I regretted them. Tonguing my teeth some more, I rubbed a hand over my face and laughed bitterly, because it was either that or break down crying. “I guess I should’ve known the Navy would eventually end this too. God knows it fucks everything else up in my life.”

  Dad’s shoulders sank. “I’m—”

  “Don’t.” I put up my hands. “Please. Don’t say you’re sorry again.”

  He held my gaze but didn’t speak.

  I swallowed and pushed myself away from the counter. “I need to go out for a bit.”

  “Are you going to see—”

  “I just need to think.”

  He called after me, but I didn’t catch what he said because I was already hurrying for the door. Without stopping or looking back, I went to my car, got in, and got the fuck out of there.

  At least Dad didn’t try to stop me. He was probably rolling his eyes, shaking his head, and telling Julie I’d be back once I cooled down. Which was true. As I drove out of the neighborhood, gripping the wheel like my life depended on it, even I knew damn well I’d be back to finish this once I’d blown off some steam. Apparently that was something I’d inherited from my mom, and it kept things from getting entirely out of hand when Dad and I butted heads.

  As I drove, I couldn’t calm down. I couldn’t relax. I didn’t even know where I wanted to go or which highway would be the best place to focus on some bends and curves. The road noise didn’t do a damned thing. What the hell?

  Shit.

  Of course it didn’t help. How the fuck was I supposed to drive around and blow off steam when I was literally driving around inside the place Paul and I had met? I’d been sitting right here when he’d gotten in the first time and told me to just drive. This was where he’d kissed me the first time. In the rearview, I could see the backseat where he’d gone down on me the first time. Hell, the first time I’d fucked him had been right over the back of this car.

  I made the mistake of glancing in the rearview, and swore I could see the phantom reflection of Paul bent over the trunk while I’d railed him from behind.

  And now he was the reason Dad and I were fighting, and the reason I was achy and exhausted and felt like the world’s biggest jackass, and . . .

  My heart sank. My hands loosened a little on the wheel.

  The confrontation had left me jittery. My heart raced and my knees shook, like that panicked feeling after a near miss on the road. Dad and I never fought. Okay, we’d argued plenty of times when I was a teenager, but most of the time, it was smooth sailing. Even when I did fuck up, he was chill and reasonable.

  Right up until I slept with his CO.

  I cursed into the silence. I wanted to hate my father for interfering, but what could I do? He was right, and I knew he was right, but I also resented the hell out of the Navy for constantly throwing monkey wrenches into my life. Everything in my world came back to the Navy. To my dad’s career. Couldn’t behave certain ways online because it might reflect on him. Getting caught smoking weed when I was sixteen was enough to get me grounded, but getting caught in base housing by base security had created a shit-storm that may or may not have affected my dad’s promotion that year. All I knew was he hadn’t made rank, and he hadn’t talked to me for three days after the results came out.

  And now, like everything else, my sex life suddenly fell under Navy jurisdiction, and my choice of partners didn’t fly because of my dad’s fucking career. Especially now that he was in the senior enlisted ranks, he couldn’t afford for me to be involved with his CO. And Paul definitely couldn’t afford for people to find out he was involved with a subordinate’s kid. The next rank for him was admiral, and making admiral was a one-in-a-hundred shot that almost literally required an act of Congress. Political games might be bullshit to me, but they were mission critical for Dad and Paul, and whatever Paul and I were doing . . . well, it wasn’t going to help either of them.

  No matter how much I let myself fall for him, the truth was still there—if someone found out about us, Paul wasn’t going to choose his twentysomething boyfriend over his career. I couldn’t ask him to, and even if I did, there was no way he would.

  Which meant there was only one thing I could do.

  If there was one thing I did not sign up for when I decided to join the Navy, it was the goddamned meetings. I’d wanted to fly, and the polar opposite of flying was sitting in a chair and trying to stay awake while other people—sometimes above my rank, sometimes below it—rambled on about shit that could’ve been condensed into an email. Screw ergonomic chairs, I wanted one fitted with an ejection system.

  But some Congressional committee had a bug up its ass about closing down one base and moving its squadron to NAS Adams, so meetings had to happen to make sure we were all briefed and prepared for next week’s meeting with the commodore and a couple of apparently bored senators. That was probably my least favorite part about being a commanding officer. I’d known that once I reached this level, there’d be politics and ass-kissing, but I hadn’t anticipated how much I’d hate it. Good thing I liked the rest of my job. Maybe when I was an admiral, they could all kiss my ass.

  For now, though, I had to make nice with them because they could make or break my chance at a promotion. Assuming I had a chance, which I wouldn’t until the Navy gave me a goddamned ship, but maybe firmly lodging my nose between a senator’s ass cheeks would help speed that process along. The right phone call from the right senator to the right person on high could do the trick, after all, and at this point I wasn’t above anything that might put me at the helm of an aircraft carrier.

  Finally, the meeting was over. After shaking hands with everyone, I headed out of the conference room. As I started down the hall toward my office, I reached into my pocket for my phone, but before I could check the screen, a voice stopped me.

  “Sir, could I speak to you for a minute?”

  I turned to see Senior Chief Wright standing by my office, cover tucked under his arm. Something tightened in my gut, and I pocketed my phone. “I’ve got some time. What can I do for you, Senior Chief?”

  He set his jaw and shifted his weight. “Is there any chance we could do this in private?”

  “Uh, yeah. Sure.” I motioned for him to follow me. “This way.”

  We stepped into my office, and Wright closed the door behind us.

  I took a seat at my desk, gesturing at the two chairs in front of it. “Sit down, Senior Chief.”

  “Actually . . .” He cleared his throat and put his hands behind his back, stiffening slightly and almost assuming a parade rest stance. “I’d rather not, sir.”

  “I see.” I folded my hands on the desk. “So what can I do for you?”

  “It’s about my son.”

  My blood turned to ice.

  Oh shit. He knows.

  “All right.” I inclined my head, hoping he took it as the casual go on of someone without a reason to be guilty.

  He stood even straighter. “My son’s name is Sean Wright.”

  I gulped. “Sean Wright?”

  Wright narrowed his eyes. “You’re familiar with him, then?”

  “Uh . . .” How the fuck had he found out?

  “Black hair? Cab driver? Hasn’t even been alive as long as you’ve been in the Navy?”

  I gritted my teeth. Normally, I didn’t tolerate subordinates talking to me like this, but normally I wasn’t involved with their adult children. I was lucky he was being this calm.

  “When we met,” I said, “I wasn’t aware he was your son. I didn’t know until recently.”

  “But yo
u know now.”

  “Yes.”

  “And before that, you must’ve been aware he’s half your age, sir,” he spat.

  “He’s an adult.”

  “Barely!” Wright blew out a breath. “With all due respect—”

  “No.” I shook my head. “Let’s drop the professional pretenses and discuss this man-to-man.”

  “No, sir, I disagree,” he said coldly. “I think you need to remember who you are, who I am, and who it is you’re fucking.”

  I flinched, and so did he, as if he hadn’t intended to verbally acknowledge exactly what was happening between Sean and me.

  I folded my hands on the desk and started to speak, but Wright beat me to it.

  “With all due respect, sir, I couldn’t care less about my son being involved with a man. Even a much older man.” His lip curled with a hint of disgust. “But I draw the line here. Sir, you and I both know there’s a lot at stake if this gets out.”

  Pursing my lips, I nodded. “I know. And I’ll speak to him.”

  “And this won’t . . . it won’t continue?” There was a hint of menace in his voice. A thinly veiled threat. An unspoken . . . or should I stop at the JAG office on my way out?

  “It won’t, Senior Chief.”

  Wright slowly released a breath. “Thank you, sir.”

  I gave a slight nod.

  He shifted, glancing toward the door. “I, uh, should get back to . . .”

  “Right. Yeah. Uh, dismissed.” Did I even need to dismiss him? He’d been confronting me. And rightfully so. What was the protocol? Well, whatever. I’d dismissed him.

  Wright hesitated as if he had something else to add—maybe one last warning to stay the hell away from his son, or maybe he was also confused about the protocol for ending this kind of conversation. Then he adjusted his cover, which was still tucked under his arm. With a curt nod, he said, “Sir.”

  I returned the nod. “Senior Chief.”

  Thank God, he turned to go, and he didn’t stop.

  After he’d closed the door, I leaned forward in my chair and rubbed my temples. Well, shit. How exactly Senior Chief Wright had figured things out, I didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. I’d known I was playing with fire, and I’d gone back for more. Now it was time for some damage control before one of us got burned.

  And whether I liked it or not, damage control meant ending things with Sean for good this time.

  Sighing, I pulled out my phone. When I turned it on, there was already a text waiting for me.

  We need to talk ASAP.

  We agreed to meet in a motel room.

  That was dangerous, but necessary. We couldn’t do this out in public, and I didn’t feel right doing it over the phone. Tempting or not, I owed it to him to face him, in person, and do what we should have done ages ago.

  When he let himself into the room where I was waiting, the sight of him had never hurt so fucking bad. A mix of pain and rage churned in my gut.

  Why did I let myself fall for you?

  Why would you tell me you love me when you knew damn well this would never work?

  Why the fuck can’t I find a way to make this work?

  He shifted his weight. “So your dad knows.”

  I winced. Apparently Dad had beaten me to the punch.

  “Yeah.”

  Paul chewed his lip. “How did he find out?”

  “I told him.”

  “What? Are you insane?”

  “No.” I avoided his eyes, and hated the way my voice shook. “But if there’s one thing I can’t do, it’s lie to my father. He confronted me because I’ve been acting weird, and I—”

  “It really doesn’t matter.” Paul’s voice was gentler now. “It’s out. And it . . .”

  “Yeah.” Well, shit. I’d spent the whole drive working up the nerve to get here, I hadn’t bothered rehearsing what to say. “So I guess there isn’t much to talk about. We have to stop doing this. For real, this time.”

  “I know.” He sighed. “We shouldn’t have let it get this far.”

  “No shit. Besides, even if no one had found out, we both know the Navy would’ve ended it for us sooner or later.” The words came out with a lot more bitterness than I’d intended, and judging by the way he eyed me, Paul hadn’t missed it.

  “What . . . what does that mean?”

  I blew out a breath. “You know it’s only a matter of time. You and Dad are both lifers. I know what your careers mean to both of you, and I can’t be why they’re damaged, especially this close to the end.” I swallowed hard, wondering how long I could keep this lump from rising in my throat. “I also can’t stick around knowing I’ll be jettisoned the second anything happens.”

  “What? No!” Paul stared at me like I’d smacked him across the face. “I wouldn’t . . . Sean, that’s—”

  “Paul.” I shook my head. “You’ve been working on your career longer than I’ve been alive. Can you really tell me honestly that you’d give that up for me?”

  He opened his mouth like he was about to speak, but stopped.

  “See?” I dropped my gaze. “The thing is, I’m exhausted. I’m tired of always coming in second to someone else’s career. And I get it, you know? Your career’s important to you, and my dad’s career is important to him. I know things can reflect badly, and you can wind up in deep shit for this, and . . .” I waved my hand. “I get all of it. But I also get that I’ve been dragged all over the place by the Navy for as long as I can remember. I haven’t lived within two thousand miles of my mom in ten years. I went to three high schools. Everyone I’ve ever known . . .” I paused to collect myself. “I’m sorry. I can’t keep doing this.”

  Paul swallowed. “I can’t fix this, or I would.”

  “I know. And I didn’t say it was your fault. It is what it is.” I shrugged as much as I could with my shoulders feeling so damned heavy. “I can’t handle it anymore.”

  “There has to be a way,” he said, barely whispering. “We’re—”

  “Don’t.” I shook my head. “I mean, think about it. Everything we’ve done has been fun, but how long is that really going to last? I mean, I’m twenty years younger than you. You’ve devoted your life to building this career. If the Navy put you on the spot and told you to choose between it and me, we both know what you’d pick.”

  Paul’s eyes flicked downward, and his lips pulled tight.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. I’d known damn well I was right, but the silent confirmation stung more than I’d thought it would. So that was what people meant when they said the truth hurt. On the other hand, maybe this meant I could walk away for good this time.

  “What do you want me to say?” he whispered, meeting my gaze again. “I love you. You know I do. But I—”

  “There’s nothing you can say. There’s nothing anyone can say.” I shrugged, which took way more work than it should have. “We need to accept it and move on.”

  “There’s . . .” He shook his head. “There has to be some way we can—”

  “There isn’t. You know there isn’t. And I can’t.”

  He watched me, brow pinched and eyes wide.

  “I’m sorry, Paul.” I shook my head and took a half step toward the door. “I have to go.”

  I didn’t feel right walking away from him like I had with my father. Dad was used to me storming out when my temper got the best of me. Paul and I had never done this before. And I wasn’t angry at him. At our situation, yes, but mostly, I hurt. I didn’t want to be anywhere except right here with him.

  But the longer I stayed here, the more likely he’d come up with something to say that would keep me from leaving.

  So without another word, I turned and walked out.

  And he didn’t try to stop me.

  Teeth grinding, I left Anchor Point in the dust as fast as I could.

  I was done. Completely and utterly done. I was done with this godforsaken town. I was done with its airbase. No, with the Navy. It wouldn’t be any differ
ent near any other base. Truth was, I should’ve known better from the start. I should have asked Paul what he did in the military. I should’ve screened him through the filter of Dad’s career, and nipped this in the bud before it had a chance to become something painful to leave behind.

  If I’d been out of my dad’s house and out from under his dependent status, it wouldn’t have changed anything with Paul. Dad was still under his command, and dating me still would’ve had Paul hemmed up for fraternization or whatever they called it when a CO did something like this.

  I was exhausted. I understood the Navy’s rules, but I resented them. I hadn’t chosen the Navy life.

  I needed to get away from the Navy. It was time to live my own life. Somehow, I was getting the fuck out of here and going someplace where I didn’t have to check a guy for a military ID before I banged him. I didn’t know where I would end up or how I’d get there, but somehow, I needed to find a place that had never seen a ship before.

  I’d figure it out. For now, I needed to be alone. I needed my car and my thoughts and the radio and the road noise. I needed a bendy, winding highway to nowhere in particular.

  So I headed south.

  Got on the highway.

  And drove.

  It was almost three in the morning when I parked on the curb in front of Dad and Julie’s house. Just the sight of his truck in the driveway made my teeth grind.

  Happy, Dad? It’s done. It’s over. Nothing’s going to happen to your goddamned career.

  Swearing under my breath even though no one was around to hear me, I thumped the wheel with my fist. I couldn’t even be mad at him. I wanted to be, but . . .

  I sighed. It was what it was. And it was my own fault, too. I’d been the one to let myself get hooked on the wrong guy.

  Dad wasn’t lying—he’d never interfered with my love life before. In hindsight, I was pretty sure he’d wanted to a few times. I would have bet money Dad had literally bitten his tongue over some of the guys I’d brought home. He’d never said a word, though. He’d quietly waited for the inevitable, and always been there for me when the time came to pick up the pieces. No “I told you so.” No “You can’t be surprised he turned out to be a douche bag.”