by L. A. Witt
“Harder,” I ground out, and Diego rode me harder, and my whole body seized under his as he forced a powerful orgasm right out of me.
More Spanish profanity rushed past my ear. His scruff burned my skin as he buried his face in my neck, and then he shuddered hard, thrusting deep, and he let go of a muffled whimper as he came too.
We slowed to a shuddering halt. He pulled out, gasping softly as he did, but stayed over me, his skin damp and hot against my back.
“In case I haven’t mentioned it,” he slurred, his accent more pronounced than usual, “I love fucking you.”
I just groaned.
After a moment, we separated long enough to clean ourselves up, then climbed under the covers together. I held him close and savored his lazy, languid kisses. Now that the more primal needs were out of our system—for the moment, anyway—I could relax into having him here beside me. I hadn’t thought there was a way around the things that had pushed us apart. But here we were.
Diego drew back and looked into my eyes. Touching my face, he whispered, “Thank you again. For what you did.”
“You’re welcome.” I brushed a few strands of hair off his forehead. “And you’re sure it won’t make things weird between us? You’re not obligated to be with me because of—”
“Mark.” He smiled, running a hand up the middle of my chest. “Did anything about what we just did feel like obligation?”
“Well, no. But I—”
He kissed me again. “Relax. I’m so grateful for what you did, but this”—he gestured at the two of us—“isn’t something I’m doing out of obligation. I’ve spent the last few days trying to figure out how to get back to this.” A smile grew on his lips, and it was sweet and sincere, especially as he added, “You just beat me to it.”
“Really?”
Diego nodded. “I knew I’d fucked up. And I knew I wanted you back. I just didn’t know how to say it.” He reached up to smooth my hair. “Then you showed up with all of that, and . . .” His breath rushed out of him and his shoulders slumped. “You blew my mind.”
“I was afraid you’d resent me for it, to be honest.”
“You were?”
“Yeah. Like it was a way to manipulate you into taking me back, or like I was telling you you couldn’t solve your own problems.”
He laughed bitterly. “To be fair, if I could have solved them, I would have.” His humor—such as it was—faded, and he swallowed. “You have resources I don’t. I’m grateful you were willing to use them.”
I wasn’t sure what to say, and the silence set in uncomfortably.
Then he lowered his gaze and took a breath. “I dated someone a couple of years ago who offered to get married so I could get a green card. I’m not going to do that, though. If I ever get married, it won’t be out of pity or because I need some fucking paperwork. Then I’d just constantly feel like I owed him something, you know? That would make me feel obligated to stay with someone.” He lifted his chin and met my eyes again. “You weren’t the first guy to offer me a solution. You were just the first who wouldn’t have gotten something out of it.”
“This isn’t for me.”
“I know. I figured that out when you went to leave without saying anything about getting back together.” He moistened his lips. “I appreciate it. I really do. You have access to things I don’t, and you used them to help me. That’s . . . I couldn’t ask for anything more, you know?” His gaze turned distant. “I just can’t believe there’s finally a way out.”
“There should have been a long time ago.”
“I know.” He exhaled. “Man, it’s going to be weird not being scared all the time.”
I smiled, caressing his arm.
“Maybe once I’ve got a better job,” he said, “I can go visit my family more.”
“Visit?” I trailed the backs of my fingers along his forearm. “Or go home to stay?”
Diego sighed, cuddling closer to me. “I don’t know. I like it here. Might like it more once I’m not scared of getting deported.” He closed his eyes and let out a long breath. “And there’s other people like me, you know? Veterans who got fucked out of citizenship. There’s some groups and charities, and there’s that place in Tijuana that helps deported vets get their VA benefits, so maybe . . .” He met my gaze. “Maybe if I stay here, I can do something for them.”
“Maybe we both can.”
He lifted his head. “Yeah?”
“Sure.” I trailed my fingertips down his cheek. “I’d follow your lead. Just tell me if there’s something I can do—or I can get the Navy to do—and I’ll help.”
He smiled. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I moistened my lips. “You know, everything you’ve told me about vets getting deported—I honestly had no idea it was a problem until I met you. But now that I do, whatever I can do to help . . .” I paused. “Actually, maybe there’s something you can do to help me.”
Diego raised his eyebrows.
“I put out a memo a couple of weeks ago for the immigrants under my command,” I said. “Telling them to come to me if they’re interested in pursuing citizenship.”
“Any bites?”
“I’ve had some emails. I’ve, uh, been cultivating a bit of a reputation for being a hard-ass, though, so I think some of them are afraid to approach me directly.”
Diego smiled playfully. “You’re that XO, huh?”
“Yeah, I am.” I chuckled, then turned serious. “I was thinking maybe I could coordinate with the training department on-shore. Have some kind of class or whatever’s needed for people who need to know what to do and what channels to go through.” I ran a hand through his hair. “If I can get something like this off the ground, we’ll need an instructor.”
His eyes widened slowly. “Really?”
“You’ve been there, done that. You’re not some white guy who learned the ropes off a PowerPoint.”
Diego gave a soft laugh, but it only lasted for a second. “So, like a civilian contractor position? To help other immigrants?” He shook himself. “Is there even enough demand for something like that?”
“Maybe not at Anchor Point specifically, but in the region? I would imagine there is.”
“The region?” he sputtered. “You’re talking about a regional position?”
I nodded. “If you want it. I’d still need to coordinate and call in some favors, but . . . yeah, if you want it, I’ll make it happen.”
He stared at me for a moment, and then a smile slowly formed. “Yeah, I want it. I love the idea. Fuck, I would have sold my soul for a class like that while I was still in.”
“I’ll see what I can do, then.” I smoothed his hair. “I mean, assuming you decide to stay in Anchor Point. Which you don’t have to—”
He cut me off with a soft kiss and met my eyes. “I have to say, you’re kind of a perk if I stick around.”
I laughed. “As long as I’m not the only reason.”
Diego shook his head. “No. You’re not. And if this job works out . . .” He blew out a breath. “Fuck, that would be amazing.”
I just smiled.
He chewed his lip and, after a moment, met my eyes. “Maybe when I go visit my family, you could come with me.”
I straightened. “Seriously?”
“Sure.” He smiled shyly. “My mom will love you. My abuela might feed you until you can’t move, though. She thinks everyone is too thin unless she’s personally witnessed them eating five or six piles of food.”
“Oh my God. So let’s maybe schedule that for after PRT. Or at least weigh-ins.”
Diego laughed, and my heart went crazy. We hadn’t been apart all that long, but it was long enough for me to miss the way his face lit up when he laughed.
I am so glad I didn’t fuck this up.
We lay there in silence for a little while, occasionally kissing but mostly just being together.
“You okay?” I finally asked.
“Yeah.” He smiled, thou
gh his eyes were suddenly uneasy. “Just thinking about everything. The papers you gave me and . . . everything.”
“Yeah?”
He nodded, pursing his lips. He searched my eyes, then slid a little closer. “Listen, um, going forward . . . just . . . fair warning, I guess.” His brow pinched. “It might take a while for me to get a therapist. And it might take a while for it to help. So all this?” He tapped his temple. “It’s not going away overnight. It’s . . . probably never going away completely.”
I cupped his cheek and kissed him softly. “I know. It’s PTSD. It’s not going anywhere.” I took his hand and squeezed it as I met his gaze. “But neither am I. And you’ll probably have to be patient with me too. I made a mess of my marriage, and I don’t—”
Diego kissed me. He freed his hand from mine and curved it around the back of my neck, and while his grip was firm and unyielding, his lips were soft. When he finally broke the kiss, he said, “Shut up. You don’t need to keep warning me.” His lips curved into a smile as they brushed against mine. “I know what I’m getting into.”
I surrendered to another long kiss and slowly relaxed against his warm, naked body.
“If you fuck up, we’ll work it out,” Diego said. “Same thing if I fuck up. And then when we’re done, we’ll have awesome makeup sex.”
I laughed, and it was out of relief more than anything. “I like the sound of that.”
“Me too.”
I trailed the backs of my fingers along his jaw and whispered, “I love you.”
“I love you too.” He wrapped his arms around me and drew me in for a long kiss.
We held on to each other, letting the kiss linger for a while before he rested his head on my shoulder. Maybe we’d fuck again tonight. Maybe we wouldn’t. I didn’t care either way—all that mattered was that he’d still be here when the sun came up.
Closing my eyes, I smiled as I stroked his hair. I’d fucked up a lot of things in my life, but I’d gotten this right. I had the sweetest, sexiest man beside me in my bed, and even though this was still a young relationship, it was on the right track. It wouldn’t be smooth sailing forever, but the possibility of rough seas ahead didn’t scare me. If anything, those would just give us a reason to hold on tighter to each other and work harder to stay afloat.
We’d make it. I was sure of it.
And if there came a day when I asked Diego to marry me, or he asked me to marry him?
It wouldn’t have a damn thing to do with a green card.
October
It had been six months since I’d laid eyes on the USS Fort Stevens, but now, there it was—moored to the pier on which I was standing with what must have been hundreds of people. I’d been to a couple of ship’s homecomings before, but never pier-side. I’d always been aboard, waiting for liberty to be called so I could disembark.
Today, I was in the crowd of family members eagerly waiting to see Sailors who hadn’t been home since April. My stomach was fluttering and my heart was going a million miles an hour. After six months, Mark would finally be home.
And almost a year after I’d met him, this wasn’t just home for him. For the first time in too long, Anchor Point was home for me too. The US was home. The ground under my feet was stable, and even after the last several months, it was still a novelty to not be anxious, not be worried about money, and not be scared at every turn that everything would get yanked out from under me.
Mark had been true to his word about helping me get a job. Though the ship had started workups shortly after that, and he’d been at sea for a few days or weeks at a time, he’d kept tabs on my applications. No one was allowed to drag their feet unless they wanted a personal visit from him. Not long after he’d brought me all that paperwork, he’d gotten me an interview in admin, and though they’d decided to hire someone else, they’d referred me to the head of training. Turned out he wanted to overhaul the entire department and put a civilian contractor in charge to free himself up to run another department that had fallen in his lap. He’d interviewed several people with more experience, but at the urging of the head of admin—and Mark, I guessed—he’d called me in too.
Clint and I had clicked instantly. Half an hour and a handshake later, I had a job. Before I’d realized which way was up, I had a green card, a base ID, and an office with three people working for me. I wasn’t at all ashamed to say that the first time I’d opened my pay stub to see how much was being deposited in my account, I’d cried. So had my mom when she’d gotten the five hundred dollars I’d wired her the next day.
I’d started looking for apartments so I could finally have an actual place instead of living out of my landlady’s converted basement. That search hadn’t lasted long, though.
“Instead of taking on a whole set of rent and bills,” Mark had said one night in bed, “why don’t you split mine?”
I’d blinked in disbelief. “Are you asking me to move in with you?”
The smile had answered the question clearly enough. Cupping my face, he’d said, “We spend almost every night together anyway.”
“So, it’s just for practical reasons.” I’d been teasing. Sort of.
Mark had laughed as he’d blushed. “No. It’s definitely not just for practical reasons.” Sobering a bit, he’d looked in my eyes. “Diego, I want to live with you because I love you. We’re going to have to spend some time apart soon anyway because of the deployment. Why not spend as much of the time we have together as we can?”
A month later, I’d moved in.
And now, after spending half a year alone in the house that had become home, I’d have Mark back in our bed.
Maybe even . . .
I closed my eyes and exhaled, trying to keep my heart from beating right out of my chest.
One thing at a time.
Cheers and commotion brought me out of my thoughts, and I turned to see a Sailor in his dress blues coming down the ramp with his seabag on his shoulders. Apparently he’d been the lucky winner of the first kiss, and sure enough, his wife was waiting for him. In front of dozens of cameras and hundreds of cheering people, they threw their arms around each other and shared a long kiss.
Once those two had cleared out, the rest of the crew started pouring off the boat.
I stayed back a bit. Mark wouldn’t be one of the first to disembark. The XO and CO never were. As impatient as I was to see my man again, I’d made it six months. I could wait a little longer.
And finally—there he was.
I inched toward the ramp, which was easier to do now that some of the junior Sailors’ families had cleared out. Heart thumping, I wondered for the billionth time how much affection was okay between us. We were sometimes affectionate when we went out, but a very public kiss? Here? That was up to him.
As soon as he’d reached the bottom of the ramp, Mark broke into a run, and a second later, he dropped his bag at our feet, wrapped his arms around me, and kissed me. Well, that answered that. Holding him tight, I let the kiss go on. It wasn’t a deep one, not one that would get him into trouble, but there was plenty of promise in it. Promise that we’d probably do some damage to that new king-sized bed we’d bought two weeks before he’d deployed.
“I missed you so much,” he said, breathing hard.
“Me too.” I kissed him lightly again. “Another month and I’d have wound up with tennis elbow or something.”
Mark snorted. “You and me both. What do you say we get out of here?”
“Good idea.” I paused, and my heart shifted into overdrive. I’d debated doing this here, and as I looked into his eyes . . . Yeah. This was the perfect time and place. “Except I kind of got you a homecoming gift.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Oh yeah?”
I nodded, hoping like hell my nerves weren’t showing. “After you helped me get that job, I finally don’t have to live on tips anymore. For the first time, I don’t have to worry about starving or losing everything. You gave me my life back.”
“It wasn’t
mine to give you,” he said softly. “You deserved to have it all along.”
“I know, but you cared enough to go through all that. And now I’m on my feet. I’m not sweating about money or getting deported. So I . . .” I swallowed as I reached into my pocket. “I figured the best way to spend some of that money was on this.”
Mark’s breath hitched, and I wondered if he’d already figured it out even before I opened my hand.
If he didn’t, I was pretty sure he caught on when I gingerly went to one knee on the concrete pier. “Mark, I love you. And if being away from you for six months told me anything, it’s that I don’t want to be away from you. So, will you—” I choked on the words.
Mark smiled, and he took my hand. “You better believe I’ll marry you.”
We locked eyes, and with his help, I stood again. As he pulled me into another embrace—tighter this time—and kissed me, people all around us broke into applause. I hadn’t even realized they’d fallen silent until now, probably because my pounding heart had drowned them all out.
The relief was so profound, it almost made me break down just like that first paycheck had. In fact, as I held him close and squeezed my eyes shut, a hot tear slipped free.
As Mark let me go, he cleared his throat and swiped at his own eyes. Then he smiled. “I guess that changes my plans for tonight.”
“What do you mean?”
He reached into his pocket, and when he pulled out the gold band, our eyes met again, and we both laughed.
“You were just quicker on the draw, I guess,” he said.
“Great minds think alike?”
“Apparently so.” He hoisted his bag onto his shoulder, wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and kissed my cheek. As we started walking, he said, “I’m really glad we’re on the same wavelength. I’ve been freaking out about this the last few nights.”
“Same here.”
“So, when do you want to do this?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. But I don’t think we need to make a decision right this second.” I snaked my arm around his waist. “I’ve got the only answer I needed today.”
