Pounding Skin

by L. A. Witt

  Or maybe just enough to hide whatever was on the screen from his husband.

  Matt pulled his gaze away and focused his attention on Jon and Nate. For a minute, anyway.

  Another text came, but Caleb didn’t tilt his phone away. Then another—same thing. A third, and this time he did angle it away from any glance Nate might’ve made.

  Matt shifted uncomfortably and tried even harder to concentrate on anything other than Caleb’s phone weirdness. It was none of his business anyway. For all he knew, Caleb was planning a surprise birthday party or something, and didn’t want Nate to catch wind of it.

  Then, around the time the four of them were debating desserts, the restaurant’s front door opened—Matt could feel the change in air pressure—and Caleb stiffened. He looked past Matt, and his features tightened with an almost imperceptible flicker of . . . something. Panic? Not quite. Uneasiness, though. Definitely uneasiness.

  His eyes flicked toward Matt, and locked on his for a second. Then Caleb shifted his gaze away, picked up his drink, and sipped it like nothing had ever been wrong. The sudden flush in his cheeks . . . was it sudden? Or had it been there all along and Matt had just noticed? Maybe it was a trick of light. Or Matt’s imagination.

  It was, however, none of his business. He didn’t know these guys. This was only the second time he’d met Caleb, and he hardly knew Nate. What kind of asshole would casually toss a wrench into their relationship based on nothing more than a gut feeling?

  Caleb cleared his throat. He slid his phone off the table and into his pocket as he pushed his chair back. “I’m going to go hit the men’s room. Be right back.”

  Nate flashed him a quick smile. “Okay.”

  As Caleb walked away, Nate and Jon kept right on talking about . . . whatever they’d been talking about. Matt had sort of checked out after he’d watched Caleb reading his messages.

  It was probably nothing. For all he knew, Caleb really had been avoiding the glare when he’d read that message. Maybe he’d just recognized someone coming in through the front door. A friend? A colleague? A client? And was it really that unusual for someone to leave the table and use the restroom? Another Coke, and Matt wouldn’t be far behind him.

  Still, everything added up in a weird way in Matt’s head. Individually, they were one thing. Combined, they stopped looking like benign quirks, and a hell of a lot more like the tells that had led to the confrontation with his ex-girlfriend and her confession that she was getting some on the side.

  Caleb came back a couple of minutes later. Matt tried not to notice that his phone was in his hand now, not his pocket.

  He just shifted his attention back to the conversation and hoped like hell he was wrong.

  * * *

  After dinner, they walked across the street to the comedy club. The acts were hit or miss. One guy apparently couldn’t read the room at all, and kept firing off political jokes that were not well-received. He was painful to watch. The next two were all right. Not necessarily any jokes Matt would remember after tonight, but definitely some good laughs.

  The fourth? Wow. She was on point. Her biting humor and dry delivery were enough to get Matt laughing even while the couple sitting next to him had his good mood on uneasy ground. Nate and Caleb seemed fine now. Laughing. Sitting with Caleb’s arm around Nate’s shoulders since the dark auditorium let them be discreet about it. He was pretty sure he’d even seen them steal a kiss at one point. That or Caleb was whispering something in Nate’s ear. Maybe asking him to flag down the waiter or something. But the way Nate leaned in and subtly squirmed, Matt was pretty sure there’d been a kiss.

  The show ended, and Nate and Caleb had to take off. Caleb had an early morning hearing, and Nate and Jon both had to be on the flight line at some ungodly hour. Any other night, Matt probably would’ve smugly rubbed it in that he didn’t even need to be awake until noon tomorrow.

  Tonight, he just wasn’t in the mood.

  In the car, Jon started the engine, but stayed in park. He touched Matt’s leg. “Hey. You all right?”

  “Yeah. Just . . .” Matt squirmed in the passenger seat, mentally scrabbling for an explanation. Come on, come on . . . “Tired. But I’m good.”

  Jon eyed him skeptically. “You sure? You haven’t said much since about halfway through dinner.”

  About the time your friend’s husband snuck off to the bathroom with his phone?

  Matt swallowed, and managed a—hopefully convincing—smile. “It’s fine. Just, you know, being around new people. I’m never quite sure what to say.”

  Jon held his gaze, but then his features relaxed. He gave Matt’s leg a gentle pat before pulling his hand back and starting the car. “I think they both like you just fine, so if you were worried about making a good impression, don’t.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  Jon glanced at him, smiled, and then focused on pulling out of the parking space and heading home. He let the subject go.

  As subtly as he could, Matt released a relieved breath.

  Bullet dodged.

  So why did he still feel like shit?

  Chapter 19

  Walking into the tattoo shop didn’t fill Jon with dread or apprehension anymore. Quite the opposite, in fact. Especially since he wasn’t facing the prospect of getting more ink of his own. Once in a while, he still entertained the idea of getting that Super Hornet tattoo, and he’d floated it by Matt a few times, but the memory of his ass cheek getting carved up was still a wee bit too fresh for him to commit to more.

  Colin looked up from some paperwork as Jon came in, and called over his shoulder, “Huffman. Your man’s here.”

  A buzzing tattoo needle quieted, and Matt poked his head out of the side room. “Hey. Almost done.” He said something to the person he was working on, then looked back at Jon. “You can come back here if you want to.”

  Jon met Colin’s gaze, eyebrows up for confirmation. When the owner nodded, Jon went into the side room.

  “Sorry I’m running a little late,” Matt said.

  “It’s fine.” Jon smiled. “We’re not in any hurry.” And we both know you need the money. “Take your time.”

  Matt stood to press a quick kiss to Jon’s lips, then sat back down and continued working.

  A young woman was perched on the massage table with her pant leg rolled up. Another sat in a chair against the wall. Students from one of the universities nearby, if Jon had to guess.

  So much for the health department forbidding extra people, but he’d always suspected that had been bullshit.

  The woman on the table played with her phone while Matt worked on a long-stemmed rose that wrapped around her calf. He glanced up at Jon. “I’ll be done here in about half an hour. Feel free to take a seat.”

  “You don’t mind?” Jon asked the woman getting inked.

  She shrugged. “I’m not the one who has to concentrate. It’s fine by me.”

  Jon leaned against the wall. A chair seemed like it would make the little room too crowded. From here, he had a clear view of Matt’s handiwork. As much as needles bothered him, Jon had always been okay with watching his friends get inked. In fact it was actually interesting. Matt would dip the needle in the ink, then put it to the skin, but it wasn’t like drawing with a pen, where the ink rolled onto the surface in a smooth line. It was more like a blob around the end of the needle. How Matt could see what he was doing, Jon couldn’t begin to fathom.

  It was so strange how a tattoo looked like an awful mess when it was in progress, but as soon as the blood and excess ink were gone, the actual art came through. With the blob wiped away, the lines were crisp and precise, and the colors and shadows smooth.

  Matt’s work was amazing, too. Jon couldn’t draw to save his life, but Matt could put a two-dimensional design on a three-dimensional canvas, and make it look like it belonged there. Lines and curves followed the planes and contours of backs, hips, and muscles. A sculpted calf muscle, in this case.

  In Matt’s
portfolio, Jon had seen designs that were supposed to fool you into thinking the skin had been peeled away to reveal the bones and tissue underneath—or in cases like the tattoo someone had done on Matt’s arm, cyborg machinery. Matt was so precise, following the actual bones and muscles so closely, they almost looked real.

  And in this case, the rose winding around the young woman’s leg was almost lifelike. Each petal was intricately detailed, and the shadow under the stem made it appear to be sitting on top of—instead of drawn on—her skin. Once it had healed a bit, it would probably be even more realistic. At the moment, it was still a little too bright to be real, plus it had a few pinpricks of blood here and there. But damn, it was amazing work.

  When he’d finished, Matt gave her the same instructions he’d given Matt. Keep it clean. Don’t let it dry out. Don’t pick at it. The usual. Then he bandaged it, settled up with her, and sent her on her way.

  “Okay.” He turned to Jon. “Just let me sanitize my work station, and I’m all yours.”

  Jon tipped up Matt’s chin and kissed him softly. “No rush.”

  Matt smiled a little, but it faded fast and he broke eye contact. He’d been doing that a lot the last few nights, and it was making Jon nervous.

  He didn’t say anything while Matt cleaned his work station. Whatever was on his mind it could wait until they weren’t within earshot of his bosses.

  On the way out the door, he decided to test Matt’s mood a little and feel him out.

  “So,” he said as he took out his keys. “The squadron’s Christmas party is coming up in a couple of weeks. Since you’ve already met the whole squadron, if you’re game for a night of dressing like an adult and drinking like a fish—”

  “Sure. I’m in.” Matt grinned, but it was definitely halfhearted. “Even if I have to dress like an adult.”

  “Small price to pay for an open bar, right?”

  “Oh yeah.” Sincere, but still halfhearted.

  Jon studied him. “Hey. You all right?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “You’ve been kind of in another world the last few nights.”

  “Oh. Um.”

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” Matt’s voice was flat. “Let’s just . . . let’s go get something to eat. I’m starving.”

  Jon gnawed the inside of his cheek, but didn’t say anything as they got into the car. Ever since the night they’d gone out with Nate and Caleb, Matt had seemed off in a way that Jon couldn’t put his finger on. Not like he was angry, just distracted. Anxious about something. Of course he’d had a lot on his mind recently—the car breaking down had strained his finances, for one thing—but even that hadn’t had him nearly as tense. Not visibly, anyway.

  As Jon drove them away from the strip mall, Matt pressed his elbow against the door and chewed his thumbnail. “Okay, I need to ask you something. And maybe it’s none of my business, but it’s bugging the hell out of me.”

  Jon glanced at him. “Uh, okay?”

  “Is there anything . . .” Matt paused like he was carefully choosing his words, oblivious to what those seconds of silence did to Jon’s blood pressure. “Is everything cool between Nate and Caleb?”

  Jon did a double take. That was the last question he’d expected. “As far as I know. Why?”

  “Because there’s . . .” Another long pause. Then Matt exhaled. “To put it bluntly, there’s something hinky about Caleb.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Matt squirmed. He stared out the window and started gnawing on his thumbnail again.

  Concerned, Jon put a hand on his leg. “Matt? Talk to me. What’s going on?”

  Matt sighed. He lowered his hand and turned to Jon. “I guess . . . did you notice anything weird about how he was reading his texts during dinner?”

  “Weird? In what way?”

  “Like he’d read them and respond, and obviously it kind of annoyed Nate.”

  “Yeah. He hates that, but it’s par for the course with Caleb’s job.”

  “Right.” Matt took a breath. “But every now and then he’d read one and tilt it like he was trying to keep Nate from seeing the screen. And he also saw someone come into the restaurant, and got a little nervous.”

  Jon’s blood turned cold. He definitely hadn’t noticed any of that, but it didn’t sound normal.

  Matt gulped. “I mean, I don’t know either of them. Maybe it was nothing. But it seemed . . . weird.”

  “No, you’re right. That does sound weird.” Jon drummed his nails on the wheel. “Not good, either.”

  “No, it’s not.” He dropped his gaze. “I mean, I’ve been cheated on before. So, it’s noticeable when someone else starts giving off the same tells.”

  “Fuck. You too?”

  “Yep.”

  “God. What is wrong with people?” Jon sighed, anger tightening his chest at the thought of someone cheating on Matt. Or Nate. What the fuck was wrong with people? He drummed his nails faster. “It doesn’t sound like Caleb, though. I mean, I’ve known him since he and Nate started dating. Not really my type, but he’s a good guy.”

  Matt nodded slowly. “I know. And I didn’t want to say anything because I don’t want to ruin a good thing. But if there really is something going on . . .”

  Jon swallowed. “Then Nate deserves to know.”

  “Yeah.” Matt paused. “Hopefully I was just imagining it.”

  “Hopefully.”

  But now Jon wasn’t so sure.

  * * *

  Nate had been quiet all day. Focused on his job, but then, there wasn’t much that could distract him when he was in the bird. For as devil-may-care as he could be on the ground, he was all business in the air, just like Jon.

  Now that they’d landed, though, and they were walking back in off the flight line, he was a million miles away. Something wasn’t right.

  As they passed by the line of Super Hornets currently being checked over by maintenance, Jon glanced at Nate. “Hey, you all right today?”

  Nate shrugged, but didn’t look nearly as indifferent as he’d probably wanted to. He kept his eyes fixed on the pavement, focused on it like he was doing a FOD walk-down, searching for debris that might get sucked into an engine and fuck up a jet, instead of calling it a day. “I’m good. Why?”

  “You tell me.”

  This time, Nate shot him a look. “Don’t fuck around. You got something to say, say it.”

  Jon put up a hand. “You’ve just been quiet. That’s all.”

  “It’s nothing. I’m fine.” He said it in a growl that didn’t take a genius to read—leave it alone.

  They continued walking, and Jon’s mind continued racing. Nate wanted him to let it go, but it wasn’t that easy. Especially not after the other night. Matt’s comments had stuck with Jon. Hell, maybe that was why he was more tuned in to Nate’s behavior than usual. Now that he had the idea that something might be wrong, he was looking for signs to confirm it.

  Except . . . Nate really was unusually distant and quiet today. And Jon had seen it before. Once when his mom told him his dad might have cancer, and they were all on pins and needles waiting for the results. And again when his sister was in the process of finally leaving her abusive husband. This was the Nate that was preoccupied with something serious.

  It bothered him all the way up until he and Nate were changing out of their flight suits in the locker room. Finally, he had to broach the subject again.

  Nate had already stripped off his flight suit and changed back into his blue camouflage utilities. Jon was back in skivvies and a dark blue T-shirt after a quick shower, and stood at his locker while Nate sat on the bench lacing up his boots.

  Jon cleared his throat. He stepped into his blue camo trousers, and as he buttoned the fly, he broke the silence. “Hey. I’ll let it go, but first, could you just level with me about one thing?”

  Nate glanced up at him, expression uneasy. “What?”

  “Just . . .” Jon hesitated. He reached into his lo
cker for his T-shirt, using that as an excuse to break eye contact. “Is everything okay with you and Caleb?”

  The stomp of a boot sole on the hard floor made him jump. He figured Nate had just finished tying it and was putting his foot back down, but he did it harder than he probably needed to.

  “What the hell?” Nate laughed dryly as he stood. When Jon met his gaze, Nate stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “Of course everything is okay. Why?”

  “I just, uh . . .” Jon concentrated on putting his blouse on, and stared down as he buttoned up the front. “I was . . .”

  He swore he could feel Nate’s faint amusement turning into something harder and colder. When he glanced up, he met narrowed eyes.

  “What’s going on?” Nate asked in an equally icy voice.

  Jon showed his palms. “Look, I don’t want to cause any shit between you guys, and neither does Matt. But the other night, he noticed a few things that didn’t sit quite right with him.” Lowering his hands, he added, “He was concerned. And I am too.”

  “A few things?” Nate folded his arms across his chest. “Like what?”

  Jon swallowed, but before he could say anything, though, Nate beat him to it. “You know what? I don’t even want to hear it.” He slammed his locker and glared at Jon. “Everything is fine with me and Caleb. Back the fuck off, all right?”

  “Hey, easy.” Jon took a step back. “If it’s all good, it’s all good. I was just worried. That’s all.”

  Nate held his gaze, silently daring him to push the issue. When Jon didn’t speak, Nate pulled on his jacket with an emphatic snap. “We’ve got a briefing in half an hour.” And with that, he turned on his heel and walked out.

  Jon watched him go, and when the locker room door thudded shut, he sighed and sat down to put on his own boots.

  That went well.

  Fuck . . .

  * * *

  “I think you’re right about Nate’s husband.”