by L. A. Witt
“I, um . . .” Sighing, I rubbed the back of my neck. “This doesn’t leave this room?”
“Of course not.” He came closer, so his knees were probably right up against the front of my desk. “Is everything okay?”
“It’s fine. I mean . . . kind of. It’s . . .” I swallowed hard. “It’ll be fine as long as no one finds out.”
Noah’s lips parted. “Finds out . . . what, exactly?”
Well, if I couldn’t trust Noah, I couldn’t trust anyone. “That the guy I’m seeing is a lieutenant.”
His eyebrows climbed higher. “You’re shitting me.”
I shook my head. “No. I’m not.”
He whistled. “An officer. Wow. And a younger one.” He paused. “I mean, unless the guy got his commission later or—”
“No. No.” I shifted in my chair. “He’s . . . definitely younger. Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, I think.”
“You think?”
I tried not to roll my eyes. “I haven’t checked his driver’s license, thank you.”
“Okay, fair. But how did you even hook up with this guy?”
“I . . .” Heat rushed into my face.
Noah sat up a little. “Okay, you’d damn well better tell me now.”
“What? Why?”
“Because if you’re this twitchy over how you met, there has got to be a story behind it, and I want to hear it.”
“Sadist,” I muttered. “Fine. I . . . actually met him on a call. A domestic.”
Noah’s jaw nearly hit the desk. “Don’t tell me he’s married.”
“No! For fuck’s sake.”
“Hey.” He put up his hands. “I figured if you’d already said to hell with worrying about the whole officer-enlisted thing, you might’ve decided adultery wasn’t such—”
The pen I threw at him missed his head by about three inches, but only because he ducked.
“I’m just saying!” He laughed. “I mean, you do know you’re playing with fire, right?”
I glared at him. “No, I had no idea. That’s why I’ve been keeping it under my hat, even from you.”
He smirked. “I figured. I just really, really couldn’t pass up the opportunity to call you out for doing something stupid. You know, finally returning the favor after all these years.”
“That any way to talk to someone of higher rank?”
Noah snorted. “That going to be the name of your sex tape?”
“You want me to tell you how I met him or not?”
“Right.” He cleared his throat and schooled his expression. Sort of. “So you were on a call . . .” His eyebrow rose again.
“Yeah. Turns out the woman he was hooking up with was married, and her husband busted them. After it was all said and done, I gave him a lift back to where he’d parked his car. And before you get any ideas, that was the end of it.”
“Was the end of it.”
“Well. Yeah. But to be clear, I did not bang a guy right after responding to a domestic.”
“But you met him on a domestic and you ended up banging him.”
“Eventually.”
“Eventually.” He nodded. “Got it. Go on.”
“Anyway.” I rolled my eyes again, but couldn’t help chuckling. If Noah was still willing to crack jokes about this, then maybe it wasn’t as big of a crisis as I’d built it in my head. It was absolutely career threatening, and something that could not get out to the chain of command—Brent’s or mine—but maybe if we kept it on the down-low like we’d already been doing, it would be fine. “So, I couldn’t stop thinking about him, and decided to go hit up that place where you met Anthony. The High-&-Tight. And . . . he showed up.”
Noah held my gaze for a long, uncomfortable moment. Voice still low, he said, “So you knew he was an officer, and he knew you were enlisted. Before you ever hooked up.”
I nodded.
“I can’t decide if that makes you fucking stupid or fucking ballsy.”
“Probably a bit of both. Funny thing was, we both figured it was worth the risk for a one-time thing. Fuck once and call it a day. I don’t think either of us thought we’d wind up doing this regularly.”
“Isn’t that usually how it works? I mean, Anthony and I only meant to hook up while he was in town, and now he’s moving here, so . . .”
“Guess I should’ve kept that in mind.”
“Would it have stopped you?”
I wasn’t sure how to answer that.
“Come on, Will.” He smiled knowingly. “I know you’ve got your head screwed on way straighter than I do, but the dude obviously does something for you that makes you reckless.”
Goose bumps prickled my back and shoulders, and I forced myself not to shiver. I wasn’t giving Noah the satisfaction.
“So, is this serious?” he asked. “Or are you guys fuck buddies?”
I gnawed my lip. “That’s a good question.”
To my surprise, he smiled. “I figured as much. You’ve had that look for a while that you only get when you’re really into someone. And it’s good to see you happy again.” He sobered and held my gaze. “Just be careful, all right? You’ve busted your ass too long to get force-retired over something like this.”
“Yeah, I know.” I laughed dryly. “Think I should tell my parents about him?”
Noah snorted. He knew all too well how my parents felt about this kind of thing. “At least wait until after dessert. No point in missing your mom’s pumpkin pie over something like this.”
“Good point.”
If I was thankful for one thing this year, it was my family’s lifelong obsession with football. We were all gathered in my parents’ living room, glued to the TV as we lived and died with every catch and fumble. Mom and Dad were kicked back in those old matching recliners that shrieked whenever they sat up. I shared the sofa with my younger brother, Jason, and his girlfriend, Nicole. Everyone was perched on the edges of their seats, decked out in matching jerseys and waving beer cans at the TV. It would not have surprised me in the least if the refs could actually hear us when we protested a stupid call. And there was no shortage of stupid calls during this game. Jesus Christ.
During commercial breaks and timeouts, Mom or Dad would jog into the kitchen to check on the turkey, making us all shudder as ancient recliner mechanisms squealed into motion.
This was a family tradition—shitty recliners and all—and I loved it. Especially this year. As long as we were screaming at the refs, we weren’t talking to each other. That meant I didn’t have to think about everything I couldn’t talk to my family about.
In theory, anyway.
Even more than I’d realized, I’d gotten used to having Brent next to me. Sure, I spent plenty of time without him—our days off didn’t line up as much as we would have liked—but even then there was always the promise of seeing him later that night. At worst, the next night. This weekend would be the longest stretch of time we’d spent apart since we’d slept together the first time. And it was driving me insane because I was with people who didn’t want to know he existed. Not because he was an officer, but because he was a man. What we had and what we were wasn’t welcome here. Probably never would be.
On the screen, the timer went off, announcing the second quarter was over. Everyone was immediately on their feet. In this house, the halftime show was our cue to refill the chip bowls and beer mugs, so everyone moved into the kitchen.
As I poured some Cool Ranch Doritos into a bowl, Dad asked, “So how are things in Oregon?”
I opened my mouth to speak, but hesitated. Pretending to be focused on carefully closing the bag and clipping it shut, I chose my words carefully. “It’s, uh . . .” I met someone. “Work is keeping me busy.” He’s amazing. “As always.” I just want to tell you guys his name.
“Well, I’m glad they’re not keeping you busy this weekend.” Mom grabbed my face and kissed my cheek. “You’re right down the coast, and I never see you!”
I forced a laugh. “You know how it is
. Never any time off.”
Guilt prodded at me. I hated lying to my parents. On the other hand, they’d all but told me to lie to them twenty-some-odd years ago, so what else could I do? Tell them I didn’t come visit because my boyfriend and I were taking off to Portland so no one caught us together?
It was a double-edged sword, being stationed so close to my parents. I’d avoided coming home for the past several months because I’d still been dealing with my breakup. Coming back to a place where I couldn’t acknowledge that I’d had a boyfriend didn’t seem like it would help me grieve the fact that he was gone.
With the holidays in full swing, there’d been no avoiding a trip home. Not without causing a conversation with my family. But since the sting of losing Vince wasn’t so intense now, I’d figured this would be okay.
Except it wasn’t.
Now that I was with my family, that sting came back full force. Not in the sense that I was pining after my lying philandering whore of an ex-boyfriend. I’d been happy with Vince. Not that last year or so, but for a solid half a decade? Definitely. I’d loved him. Watching him drive away in that U-Haul had crushed me. I’d broken down on Noah’s shoulder right there in my front yard. I’d been so fucked up over it, I hadn’t been interested in dating or getting laid until recently.
Until Brent.
God. Brent. Just thinking about him made my heart speed up in a way that I couldn’t recall it ever doing with Vince.
“Will?” Mom’s voice shook me out of my thoughts.
“Hmm? What? Sorry.”
She eyed me. “You okay, honey? You’re awfully distracted today.” The slight upward flick of her eyebrow reminded me that there were limitations on how much I could divulge.
“I’m fine.” I forced a smile. “Just, uh . . .” I cleared my throat. “You know, I’m going to grab some air before the game gets back in full swing.”
I didn’t wait for a response, picked up my beer, and went out onto the back deck.
The day was crisp but comfortable. Typical Seattle in November. Alone, I leaned my forearms on the railing and stared out at the park across the street from Mom and Dad’s place. I’d played there as a kid. Back before they had the shiny metal playground equipment that didn’t have sharp edges or rusty rivets. Before the plastic benches replaced the rotting wooden ones. Definitely before they’d put in a Frisbee golf course.
I took a deep swallow of beer, the cold making my teeth ache. Every time I came back here, this place felt a little less like home, and not just because the city kept modernizing that old park.
The house itself would always be the home I’d grown up in. It had barely changed since I’d left for boot camp damn near twenty years ago. But every time I came home . . .
Maybe that was it. Every time I came home, I left more and more of myself behind. There was more and more I had to keep to myself. Yeah, I could come home, but not all of me.
Noah had said he liked seeing me happy again, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized he was right—I was happy again. Stressed, of course. Worried the wrong person might find out I was with Brent. But happy.
And I couldn’t say a word. Not here. Not today.
That had been part of my reality since I’d come out ages ago, but it hurt more now than it had in a long time. It was two-pronged—I couldn’t tell them Vince had stomped on my heart because that meant telling them he existed, and I couldn’t tell them I was stupidly happy right now because that meant telling them Brent existed. The two most significant men in my life for the past ten years were completely erased from reality as soon as I walked into my parents’ house.
I closed my eyes and sighed into the cool air. It would have meant the world to me to be able to say his name inside the house, and nothing drove home how much I felt for Brent more than not being able to tell my parents about him. The same thing had made me realize how serious I was about Vince. When I’d desperately wanted to tell them his name and that we were moving in together and that I was madly in love with him. With other guys along the way, I’d been more annoyed than anything that I’d had to appease their homophobia. It was the principle that had pissed me off.
When Vince had come along, it had become more infuriating and more painful because he’d been such an important part of my life. We’d lived together. We’d planned a future together. There’d been conversations about rings and even kids.
And then he’d been gone. He’d stomped on my heart, made me feel lower than I’d ever felt before, and . . . left. With someone else.
I wanted to tell my parents he’d been there, that he’d left, and that I’d found someone else who made me want to hunt Vince down and thank him for getting the fuck out of my life. For making room for Brent.
My throat tightened. Every time I thought I was used to hiding my sexuality from my family . . . I wasn’t. I didn’t think I’d ever really get used to it. Especially not now. It hurt like hell that I couldn’t tell my family I’d lost the man I’d fully expected to marry, and it hurt so much more that I couldn’t say a word about the man I was definitely falling for. As if I weren’t already struggling with keeping him a secret at work. Hiding him from my family too? Fuck my life.
Behind me, the sliding glass door opened. I bristled as I turned around but then relaxed.
Jason stepped out onto the deck. As he shut the door, he glanced over his shoulder as if to make sure we were alone. “So, uh, how are you doing? After that asshole left?”
“Better.” I paused. “I actually met someone new. Pretty recently, actually.”
“Really?” He turned to me. “How’s that going?”
Despite my gloomy mood, I couldn’t help smiling. “So far, so good. He’s a little younger than I usually date, but . . .” I shrugged.
“How much younger is ‘a little younger’?”
“Late twenties.”
He gestured dismissively with his soda can. “Eh, that’s not bad. You’re both adults.” He smirked. “Well, I don’t know about you, but—”
I elbowed him. “Shut up.”
He snickered, but as he turned serious again, he gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I’m glad to hear it, by the way. Really.”
“Thanks.” I paused, glancing back in the kitchen window. “Is it pathetic that I wish I could tell Mom and Dad about him? I mean, I’m pushing forty. I shouldn’t—”
“No, it’s not pathetic.” Jason shook his head. “I don’t know how you keep your shit together, to be honest. I mean, Vince was a big part of your life. Sounds like this new guy is too.” He scowled. “I can’t imagine not being able to mention Nicole. And if we ever split up, and I couldn’t say anything? Fuck. How did you deal with it?”
“Did I have much choice?”
He seemed to consider it. “I guess not.”
“Yeah. So that’s why I’ve been avoiding coming home since Vince and I started having problems. And now that I’m here, all I can think about is how much I wish I could tell them about Brent.”
Jason grimaced. “Man, that’s rough. The fucked-up thing is, I think they know.”
“What do you mean?”
“Mom’s asked me a few times if you’re doing all right. Said you’d been kind of distant and seemed depressed. I told her she should ask you, but she got all evasive about why she wouldn’t.”
“Yeah,” I muttered. “She knows.”
With a grunt, my brother nodded. Neither of us spoke for a moment, but then he broke the silence again. “It’s messed up, you know? Being so hung up on how much you don’t like people being gay that you can’t even listen to why your son’s having a rough time.” He turned to me. “I ever act like that with Aiden or Breanna, please kick my ass.”
“Oh, I will. Believe me.” As it was, my niece and nephew had already been told in no uncertain terms that if they had questions about gay people—or if they thought they might be queer themselves—and they were too embarrassed to talk to their parents, they could come to me. Jason and N
icole had instilled that in the kids as soon as they were old enough to have the slightest inkling of what being gay meant, and it was understood that anything they said to me was strictly confidential unless I thought one of them might get hurt.
Aiden was thirteen now, a year older than I’d been when I realized I was gay, and I envied him. It was entirely possible he and his sister—who was eleven—were straight, but that safety net was there anyway and always would be.
What I wouldn’t have given for that kind of thing when I was a kid. Even if my parents had simply said they’d been the ones who were uncomfortable, and given me someone else to go to. Something other than leaving me to twist in the wind because I was something they couldn’t cope with.
At least I had my brother and his family in my corner. At least someone here knew. About Vince. About Brent. About me, for God’s sake.
I cleared my throat as a sudden wave of emotion almost threw me off-balance. Jason didn’t notice, fortunately, but I sure did.
Come on. Get it together. Just a couple more nights, and it’s all over.
I can do this.
It wasn’t only my family’s obsession with football that had me feeling thankful this year. It was that the holiday was almost over, and before I knew it, I’d be with Brent again.
Is it Monday yet?
The football game wasn’t holding my attention. My team wasn’t playing, and I was pretty sure my heart wouldn’t have been in it even if they were. Sitting back in one of the recliners in Dad’s rec room, I kept letting my gaze drift away from the TV and over to the various military relics on the walls and shelves.
I’d never really noticed how much my parents’ house was like a Navy museum until after I’d moved out. Every time I came back, though, it was obvious. The walls had more photos of ships, submarines, and aircraft than people.
My mom insisted on tasteful furniture in the living and dining rooms, and the office and man cave had nice leather chairs and hardwood bookcases. In the garage, though, were several drab metal shelves and a desk-turned-workbench that could only have come from a base. The Navy sometimes jettisoned furniture like that when an office was renovated or a department had moved, but I imagined a few pieces had also been “reappropriated” during Dad’s active-duty years.
