The Fear of Surrender

by Morticia Knight

  I might never have met him.

  He grunted to himself again. Ever since he’d realized he was in love with Shane, he’d become a lot more sentimental.

  “You two have been together for what? Going on three years now?”

  Kirk arched his eyebrows. “You been keeping track?”

  Davey chuckled, a deep, raspy sound. Despite the menacing quality to the noise, it was familiar. Safe. It was part of the comforting routine to his life, but it wasn’t enough anymore. He wanted the safety of home.

  “What else I got to do all day here? I gotta look out for my customers.”

  Kirk glanced around the room. It was early afternoon and there was only one local in evidence. Charlie was slumped in a chair over by the small wall-mounted television—perpetually tuned to a sports channel. He idly drank what Kirk knew was his trademark rum and Coke. Like Davey, he was wrinkled, the same as leather that had been left out in the seemingly continuous rain of the northern Oregon coast. Charlie had once been a logger before the local mill had shut down, so sipping well drinks all day had become his go-to activity.

  Kirk knew how he felt in some ways. At least with his fishing, he’d been able to get a few consistent restaurant accounts to keep him going. Once the canneries had dwindled, along with the fresh fish markets, he’d been lucky to still make a decent living. Sadly, he’d had to let go the few guys he’d employed off and on over the years. With only the occasional help of his teenage son, Joel, he’d had to go it on his own.

  Davey shouted in response to something on the TV screen. Kirk angled his body to see what the fuss was about. Charlie appeared to be as frozen as a statue. Whatever had occurred on the screen had made zero impact on him. Another whoop went up from Davey, and Kirk registered that it was due to something that had happened on a football field. Kirk wasn’t much of a television watcher as he’d spent the better part of his life on the water, so he’d never followed sports that much.

  “Fuck the Ducks!” Davey clapped Kirk on the shoulder. “Beavers annihilate them every time.”

  Kirk smiled at his long-time friend. Yeah, he considered Davey a friend.

  “Not every time, old man.”

  Davey snorted. “What the fuck you know about football anyway? You’re practically a goddamned fish.”

  “I know enough to realize you’re full of shit.”

  The next noise Davey made was akin to a growl. “Don’t you have a boyfriend waiting for you?”

  More like I’m waiting for him.

  Kirk frowned. He wasn’t sure why he was overcome with a sudden dose of insecurity.

  “Yeah. Sure.”

  Davey elbowed him. “Aw, don’t get all funny. You get too antsy every time he’s due to arrive.”

  Davey leaned down closer to Kirk’s ear. A vague thought of suggesting to Davey that deodorant was not a bad investment passed through his mind.

  “That boy loves the shit outta you. I can see it.” Davey gestured to his eyes with two fingers.

  Kirk tensed at the word ‘love’. Neither of them had ever declared those types of emotions to one another. Never even spoke of it. With the uncertainty over where Shane might receive his next orders and Kirk’s ties to the only home he’d ever had for forty-two years—it had seemed irresponsible to even entertain such an idea.

  Doesn’t change my feelings though.

  He sighed before he could stop himself.

  “Uh-oh. You don’t love him back? You think he’s too young a pup?”

  “Davey… Do you mind?”

  Kirk didn’t love sharing all his innermost sentiments with pretty much anyone, but Davey had always treated those who were regulars like his kids—or therapy patients.

  “You’re being an ass.” Davey had growled it out. “The kid can’t be more than fifteen years younger than you—”

  “Ten!”

  Kirk’s voice had been a tad too loud. It had even generated some interest from the partially comatose Charlie. He’d slowly turned his head in their direction, his lips still clamped on to the cocktail straw.

  Kirk got a hold of himself. “He’s barely ten years younger than me and that’s got nothing to do with it.”

  “Then you don’t love him?”

  “Jesus Christ,” Kirk muttered. He suddenly wished he still had the bottle Davey had thrown away. He didn’t know what to do with his hands. “No offense, Davey, but I got a lot on my mind right now.”

  Davey patted his arm. “Okay, chief. You know Uncle Davey is always here if you need a sounding board.”

  Kirk chuckled in spite of himself. Davey really meant well.

  “Thanks. Really.”

  Kirk’s cell phone vibrated and he vainly controlled his trembling hands as he reached for it.

  It was Shane.

  * * * *

  The gray skies seemed to meet the equally gray waters of the Pacific Ocean as if it were one continuous surface. The waves were unusually calm for the typically turbulent northern coast, especially for late October. The icy wind that was a constant whipped around Shane’s face as he gazed at the sea, the chill on his skin something he craved rather than avoided. He inhaled deeply. It was comforting that the man he loved appreciated the savage beauty in the same way Shane did. It was one of the points Shane planned on making when he approached Kirk about making their relationship more official. Permanent.

  He cringed. His declaration of love would need to be shared first before any discussions of their future could begin. A big part of him knew he was setting himself up for heartbreak. What chance did they have when Shane could receive orders at any time that would take him far away from the fishing town that Kirk had been born and raised in? Where Kirk made his living. His home.

  It was possible to request that he be stationed permanently in Astoria, but there was no guarantee he would get his wish. And he didn’t dare entertain such an idea when he still wasn’t sure what Kirk’s response would be. It would be excruciating if Kirk didn’t return his feelings, if he’d only ever meant to have an occasional bed partner who wasn’t underfoot all the time.

  Shane’s stomach twisted with uncharacteristic nervousness. It took a lot to rattle him—he possessed an unerring calm that worked well in his chosen profession. He took his career in the Guard very seriously, and in his twelve years of enlistment, he’d worked his way up to Petty Officer First Class. As the LPO on board, he was responsible for leading the division of men for the first time since he’d been promoted earlier that year. In addition to his rescue swimming expertise, his advancement had meant more administrative tasks.

  As long as I’m on the water, that’s all that matters.

  The pay increase had been important to him too. He’d been putting money aside in the hopes that Kirk would someday agree to be with him exclusively, to build a life together. A part of him knew that the exclusive part already existed, even if they’d never officially discussed it. So much of their time together had been focused on what had seemed like stolen moments. Long conversations about the unforeseen future had been minimal—most of the topics centering on their lives before they’d met, on their respective professions. They both understood what compelled them in that area—the lure of the sea.

  “Petty Officer Harper, you’re needed below deck.”

  Shane glanced over at the newest Seaman Recruit, Adam Bowers, and nodded in affirmation. The two unexpected fugitives they’d picked up on a cruise ship earlier were being held there. All he needed was trouble when he was less than an hour away from what he considered his only home. As it was, he’d already had to text Kirk that they would be docking later than planned.

  He moved at a swift pace along the gray metal surface of the cutter. Once he’d trotted down the narrow steel steps, he was met at the bottom by his fellow officer, Lionel Young.

  “One of our prisoners went into the latrine and is refusing to come back out. Says he’s really seasick.”

  Shane pressed his lips in a hard line, frowning. It was true that the
rocking motion of the cutter was far beyond that of a massive luxury cruiser. “Who escorted him to the john in the first place?”

  “Barnett.”

  “In that case, he can be the babysitter. We should be docking fairly soon and then we can turn both these guy over to the Feds. You verified they’ll be there?”

  “Should already be waiting. We helo’d them in.”

  “Good. I’m heading into the communications room. I want to make sure we’re on course without any further delays.”

  Shane tried not to notice the slight quirk of Lionel’s eyebrow. They’d known one another for a long time, had done many tours together and he was one of very few people he worked with in the guard who was aware of his orientation.

  “Kirk gonna be there to get you? Otherwise, Mary’d be happy to give you a ride.”

  “Thanks. Really. But he’s done for the season and doesn’t have a shift at the Lighthouse Grill until next week. Our delay didn’t affect him.”

  “Winter hours kicked in, right?”

  “Oh yeah. You know the drill.”

  Lionel nodded grimly then turned and walked away, obviously headed to give Barnett his new orders. Once the tourists dwindled after Labor Day—trickling to next to nothing during the icy, windy winters on the coast—most local restaurants and businesses drastically cut back their operating hours. Those who hadn’t been able to get a healthy financial cushion during the summer were doomed to wither away during the winter. Kirk had worked as a cook at the Lighthouse for five years to supplement his income, but he’d learned to put away reserves from his spring and summer fishing hauls.

  He’s so proud.

  It had been easy to save for what he hoped would be their shared home one day. Kirk never let Shane help with anything financially. In some ways, Shane had the uncomfortable impression that Kirk behaved with him the way he had with his wife, like he needed to be the provider. It was one of the things Shane wanted to discuss if they were to plan a life together.

  Shane bowed his head, suddenly aware of the muscles in his thighs tensing and relaxing rhythmically with the rocking motion of the vessel in order to keep him steady. Like it was for everyone else aboard, it was something that was an unconscious habit from being at sea a good portion of the time. His face had heated back up from being out of the freezing winds, the sensation almost too hot. It was yet another thing he’d become accustomed to—the drastic temperature changes from up above and down below.

  Kirk knows.

  They’d discussed it one time at length. The way the wind would ice up the skin on your face, how easily it was for it to get chapped. But they’d both agreed that the sensation always took them to that place they loved—the place where they felt so much more alive. It was when they were on the water.

  Kirk had to see, had to understand. Even if Kirk didn’t love him back, it was obvious how right they were for one another.

  Maybe that will be enough.

  “Petty Officer Harper! Our prisoner won’t stop vomiting!”

  Raising his head, Shane noted the panicked look on Seaman Recruit Barnett’s face.

  “Then get him some of the anti-nausea medicine.”

  “But he…”

  Shane arched his eyebrows. “Then clean it up.”

  Barnett groaned. “Yes, sir.”

  Shane watched as Barnett took off to complete his task. He wandered over to the steps that led back to the deck. He wanted to stand at the rail and watch as Astoria drew closer and closer. Closer to Kirk.

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  About the Author

  I love all things book. I have a passion for creating stories—the more fantastic the better—and used to spend hours as a little girl drawing pages of pictures and then putting captions to them. I love reading and writing several different genres, but I recently put my more mainstream paranormal romances aside for naughtier tales.

  I also enjoy music from Imogen Heap and Nine Inch Nails to Mozart, and love horror and sci-fi films from cheesy to terrifying. I must also confess that I am a huge LOTR (Lord of the Rings) geek.

  I currently reside on the northern coast of Oregon, where the constant rain and fog reminds me of my visits to family in England and Scotland when I was a child.

  Email: morticiaknight@gmail.com

  Morticia loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.totallybound.com.

  Also by Morticia Knight

  A Spirit of Love

  Uniform Encounters: Set Ablaze

  Uniform Encounters: Arresting Behavior

  Uniform Encounters: Lust Emergency

  Uniform Encounters: Guarded Desires

  Uniform Encounters: Secret Fire

  Uniform Encounters: Dangerous Wish

  Gin and Jazz: Hollywood Bound

  Gin and Jazz: Razzle Dazzle

  Gin and Jazz: Tarnished Glitter

  Gin and Jazz: Starring Role

  Gin and Jazz: Studio Orders

  Gin and Jazz: Casting Call

  Gin and Jazz: Play Acting

  Sin City Uniform: All Fired Up

  Sin City Uniform: Copping an Attitude

  The Hamptons Road Club: Hesitant Heart

  The Hamptons Road Club: The Rules of Love

  Clandestine Classics: The Legend of Sleepy Hollow

  Clandestine Classics: The Fall of the House of Usher

  All Together Now: The Perfect Third

  Hard Riders: Biking Bad

  Semper Fidelis: Safe Shores

  What’s his Passion? Rockin’ the Alternative

  Totally Bound Publishing