Welcome Home, Soldier

by Deanna Wadsworth

  Clay’s face scrunched. “What do you mean?”

  “What do you think I mean?”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah, you.” Daniel rolled onto his back, unable to look at Clay. His head was a mess and his heart ached. But his feelings for Clay were still there. His heart might still be raw, the wounds unhealed, but dammit, his heart knew what and who it wanted.

  “Danny,” he began. “Look at me, please?”

  He did as Clay asked.

  “Did you have a good life?” Clay whispered, hopeful.

  “Yeah, for the most part. Sure, I did.”

  “I’m glad because… I didn’t,” he admitted, eyes glistening.

  At a loss for words, Daniel kissed him.

  Chapter Six

  PANTING, CLAY drew his mouth away. Before things escalated where Clay so desperately wanted—needed—the night to go, he cupped Daniel’s face with urgency. “Danny, wait….”

  Daniel’s face shattered. “Dammit, Clay, I always hoped you’d find the happiness I couldn’t give you.”

  “I’m not telling you this to blame you. It’s just a fact,” he insisted. “You made the right decision, not coming after me. I would’ve fucked up your life too. If you’d come after me, we never could’ve made it work. I was so messed up, I would’ve ruined everything.”

  “You can’t know that!”

  Clay shook his head, struggling for words to admit the truth to Daniel. “Yeah, I can.”

  While it hurt something fierce when they broke up, in the end, it had been for the best. And if they had a snowball’s chance in hell of giving their relationship another chance, Daniel needed to know what Clay had been through, how he’d fucked up his life.

  Most importantly, Daniel needed to understand Clay had finally gotten his shit together.

  He was whole again. The man Daniel had once loved.

  Maybe could love again.

  Clay brushed Daniel’s cheek, his skin not as soft as it had once been but just as inviting. “I don’t want you to blame yourself, Danny. I don’t want you to blame me either. Back then, I couldn’t be in the Army anymore. Not after Basra. I had to leave to protect myself. And you had to do your thing too.”

  “I know,” Daniel said, stroking up his side. “I shouldn’t have…. I—”

  Inching closer, Clay cupped his face and kissed him quiet. “No. Lemme finish. The nightmares after those fucking Iraqis killed our boys….” He cleared his throat and forced the memories away, but his vision clouded with emotion. “You were there, Danny. You know how bad I was. I got a fucking Purple Heart, and they got a twenty-one-gun salute and a folded flag. How is that shit fair?”

  Eyes wide, Daniel brushed Clay’s tears away with his hands. “Shh, don’t think about it.”

  “I think about it every time I close my eyes, Danny,” he declared, lower lip quivering. “I still see all that blood. And… and the survivor’s guilt, it fucked with my head. Then after I lost you….”

  “I’m sorry,” Daniel cried, wrapping a leg over his, drawing them flush as he grabbed at Clay’s shirt. “I should’ve gone with you. I should have helped you.”

  “There was no helping me.” Desperate to feel Danny against him, Clay clung to him. Touching him, feeling Daniel’s warmth and support pushed those old demons away and calmed his racing heart. Finding his center, Clay took a steadying breath. “Drugs and alcohol were the only way to make it stop. To stop the madness.”

  Daniel stilled, and his face grew serious. “Drugs?”

  The hurt and disappointment in Daniel’s expression cut him to the quick. “Yeah, I was a mess. I was shooting up even before I left.”

  “You were?”

  Though it embarrassed him, Clay nodded. “That night, on Christmas? I-I was high.”

  “You were?” Then clarity came to those hazel eyes, and Daniel nodded sadly. “You were.”

  “That’s why we wouldn’t have worked,” Clay insisted. “I loved you, but I wasn’t ready for what I asked. I thought being with you, out and together, that would cure me. I had it in my head, that if you would come out and bring me back here, to Gilead, then I would get better.”

  “You did?”

  “Yeah, you always talked about this town like it was the best place in the world. Like some kinda fairy tale. I thought if we came here, then….” He shook his head. “I know now that was stupid.”

  “You said you’ve been sober nine years, so does that mean all this time you were…?”

  “Off and on, yeah. I went to the VA a few times to get help, but I never followed through with anything. Truth was, I didn’t want help. I didn’t care. Drugs and alcohol were easier. More immediate. But after Mom died, Dad convinced me to go into AA and rehab. I fell off the wagon more than once. Wasted a lot of my life.”

  Clay used to blame Daniel’s cowardice for tearing them apart, but ultimately Clay’s PTSD and subsequent addictions had been the driving forces. If it hadn’t ended them that Christmas, it would have ended them eventually. And Clay would’ve forced Daniel out of the closet when he wasn’t ready, possibly ruined his career. All for nothing. Unable to think clearly back then, to get out of his own head, Clay had seen Daniel as his only salvation. Daniel bringing Clay home to Gilead was a sick test to see if Daniel really did love him. Because if Daniel loved him, Clay could get better. He’d shouldered Daniel with all the responsibility and refused to accept his own problems. But when Daniel wasn’t ready to be out, Clay had left him. Left the Army, and left reality.

  That was the sad truth of it all.

  Both of them and neither of them were to blame.

  “I’m so sorry, Clay.”

  “No more sorries,” he insisted. “I told you because I want you to know. But I’m in a good place now. I never would’ve come here if I wasn’t.”

  “I’m glad you’re better,” Daniel said. “I can see it in your eyes.”

  “Yeah?”

  He smiled and stroked Clay’s face. “Yeah, they’re happy. Like when I first met you.”

  Inside, that was exactly how Clay felt, and it gladdened him Daniel could see it too. It had taken him so long to get here, to be healthy mentally and physically.

  Exhausted after confessing his addiction, Clay laid his head on Daniel’s chest, loving the warmth of his body.

  Daniel wrapped him up in a tight hug, their legs intertwined. “I missed you,” he whispered, kissing Clay on the top of the head.

  Shuddering, Clay melted into his embrace, finding absolution in Daniel’s arms. Clay had spent years getting back in touch with the old Clay, the one Daniel had loved. Bouncing around city to city, boyfriend to boyfriend, and winding up drunk in a ditch so many times he’d lost count had been the journey Clay needed to take in order to end up here.

  Healed and whole.

  A man worthy of Daniel.

  Chapter Seven

  THEY LAY still, saying nothing. Daniel had always felt so comfortable and safe in Clay’s arms, so loved. Even after twenty-five years, that sensation remained as strong as ever. It broke his heart that Clay had suffered during their years apart, but knowing Clay had overcome it felt like the best Christmas gift.

  Overcome with exhaustion, despite being so close to Clay, Daniel yawned.

  “Tired?” Clay’s hand trailed up his spine.

  Daniel shivered. “I could sleep.”

  “Should I head out to the couch?”

  Though his first instinct was to grab on tighter to Clay and never let him go so he could never be hurt again—either by himself or others—Daniel forced himself to sit up. They had been embracing after they’d talked, savoring the silence and the familiar feel of each other. It might feel like old times, but they were not the same boys they had been, and Daniel didn’t want to ruin anything by moving too fast.

  He smiled down at Clay. “Couch is probably a good idea.”

  Clay nodded, but the disappointment in his blue eyes was clear.

  They climbed from the bed, and Dan
iel almost grabbed Clay and pulled him back to bed before he entered the living room. Instead, he shook off his need and fetched some blankets from the closet.

  From the living room, Daniel heard Clay say, “Hey, mutt, that’s where I’m sleeping.”

  Confused, Daniel joined him by the couch, blankets in hand, only to find George sprawled out across the cushions. “What are you doing, George? Get down.”

  Instantly, George jolted and jumped from the couch. A big, soggy dog imprint covered two cushions.

  The entire thing was soaked.

  “Well, you can’t sleep here now,” Daniel said, frowning at his unapologetic dog. “I don’t understand. He never gets on the furniture.”

  “When you’re looking,” Clay said with a smirk.

  Daniel sniffed in agreement.

  “It’s fine,” Clay assured him. “I’ve slept on worse. Anything’s better than freezing to death in my car.”

  “Don’t say that! You don’t need to put that out into the universe. It’s bad luck.” And hearing it hurt Daniel’s heart.

  Clay chuckled. “Always so superstitious.”

  Tongue lolling to the side, George licked his chops and grinned at Daniel, not the least bit penitent. Taking a deep breath, Daniel offered, “You might as well sleep with me.”

  Chewing his lower lip, Clay nodded. “You sure you don’t mind?”

  “It’s fine. Just fine,” he assured him. It’s exactly what I want. “I’ll take George out first. You know the way.”

  Clay picked up the blue plaid pajama bottoms he’d been wearing over his jeans and headed back to the bedroom.

  Oh my God, we’re gonna sleep together!

  Daniel hurried away, calling, “C’mon, George. Let’s go potty.”

  Once George took care of business, he gave his meddling dog a night-night biscuit, and then he turned off the Christmas tree lights. As he returned to his bedroom, he told Clay, “Well, he peed and pooped on the porch. The snow hasn’t—”

  The words died on his lips, and all he could do was stare.

  Clay was completely naked.

  Tattoos danced across his sculpted skin, a mass of confusing colors Daniel couldn’t make out in his shock. His injured shoulder had been completely inked, and an American flag hugged his thigh.

  Chuckling about George peeing on the porch, Clay stepped into the pajama bottoms and yanked them up.

  Their eyes met and his laughter faded.

  Snapping his mouth shut, Daniel rushed over to his side of the bed, where his sleep T-shirt lay. Self-conscious after seeing Clay’s perfect body—damn, he has a lot of ink!—Daniel was embarrassed to show off his paunch. Hands shaking, he unbuttoned his shirt, keeping his back to Clay. When he bent over to slide the jeans off, he wondered if Clay watched, appraising his body. Warm all over, he hastily slid on his T-shirt.

  When he turned around, Clay sat on the bed, one leg in front of him, petting a sprawled out, belly-up George. Clay flashed Daniel a grin, showcasing those dimples. “I don’t think he’s sorry about getting the couch wet. I know I’m not.”

  Neither am I.

  Rather than say that or gaze at the tats gracing that sculpted torso and commit each one to memory, Daniel forced himself to be calm as he pointed at George. “Down.”

  The dog jumped to the floor.

  “He doesn’t sleep with you?”

  “No.” Daniel folded back the bedspread and climbed beneath the sheets, heart pounding. “Honestly, I don’t know what’s gotten into him tonight. First the couch and now the bed. He’s usually more behaved than this.”

  “He’s fine,” Clay assured him.

  George made himself comfy in his bed on the floor, then let out a huff. Daniel flipped off the lamp on his nightstand, washing them in darkness as Clay slipped beneath the covers, not lying too close.

  Will he kiss me good night?

  “Good night,” Daniel said, fussing with the blankets and trying not to disturb Clay.

  As if on cue, they both rolled to their side, facing each other in the dark.

  “So,” Clay said.

  “So,” he repeated, unsure.

  “Can I kiss you?”

  Daniel was anxious, but without hesitation, he reached for Clay, answering him with a deep press of lips.

  The scratch of stubble sent shivers of need throughout Daniel’s entire body. They shifted a little closer, and rather than taking the kiss further, Clay stroked Daniel’s cheek. The night-light beside his dresser and the whiteness of the blizzard outside the window created enough light to make out Clay’s face. That bold gaze left Daniel feeling exposed and vulnerable—and grateful for the darkness to hide his rounder, older body. But if the hunger in Clay’s expression was any indicator, Clay wasn’t bothered by the extra weight.

  Daniel’s face warmed. Hand trembling, he trailed his fingers over and down Clay’s large, rounded shoulder, fighting a nervous giggle. Clay followed suit, touching and staring too. Their legs shifted closer, feet stroking calves. The gentle, unhurried exploring reminded Daniel of teenage innocence and first times. Indeed, tonight felt like their first time all over again.

  Yet also like they’d been here so many times before.

  Like they belonged like this.

  “I’m glad I came tonight,” Clay said, caressing Daniel’s face once more.

  I’ll never tire of that. “Yeah, me too. But,” he began, “why did you come? Really?”

  “I missed you,” he said after a while.

  “But why did you come?” Daniel tried again. “Are you looking to…?”

  “To start over?”

  Not daring to hope, Daniel nodded.

  Clay rolled out of Daniel’s arms and onto his back to stare at the ceiling.

  Daniel propped up on his elbow, waiting.

  “I had to see you,” Clay finally said. “See what would happen. I thought when my car wrecked, it was a sign I shouldn’t have come. But then that guy gave me a lift. And now we’re here.” He looked over, eyes shining in the night-light. “I had to see… if it was still there.”

  He knew what Clay meant. “Is it?”

  “I don’t know. You tell me?”

  Daniel leaned over him, gazing down at the now-weathered face of a man he’d once loved with all his heart and soul. He saw no age in his wrinkles, no time passed in the gray hair. He saw Clay as that wild, black-haired youth, and Daniel felt like the same uptight kid, trying not to let anyone know how terrified he was to fail.

  He splayed his hand down Clay’s chest and admitted, “I feel twenty again when I talk to you. Like I’m someone I forgot about.”

  “So you do feel it?” Clay whispered. He took Daniel’s hand from his chest and pressed it to Daniel’s heart. “In here?”

  He nodded, then leaned down to kiss him.

  Once the words were voiced, their bodies came together with old, familiar hunger. But slower and more significant than when they’d touched before.

  War had wounded Clay, but time had healed him. Daniel wished he’d been there for him, but if he had, would Clay have healed? Or would Daniel’s controlling nature only have widened the wedge that had been growing between them? Daniel had tried to “fix” Clay, and it had pushed Clay away. Pushed him to drugs. Rather than understand his hurt, Daniel had hurt him back. Declaring he wanted a “normal” life and wouldn’t go with Clay.

  “I’m so sorry,” Daniel breathed again, ashamed of what he’d said back then. “I hurt you.”

  “It’s okay now,” Clay whispered around kisses. “I shouldn’t have pushed you to come out.”

  “I just wasn’t ready,”

  “I know, I know,” he cried, arching into Daniel and claiming his mouth with passion. Then he came up for breath, pushing Daniel’s hair back and gazing at him imploringly. “We weren’t supposed to be together back then.”

  “What about now?” Daniel whined, not realizing how damn much he’d missed this, missed Clay.

  “Yes, now, yes,” Clay muttered
, lips blessing their union with hope.

  The past was where it belonged—in the past. But their future gleamed bright.

  Clay drew back from the kiss, his face in earnest. “Danny, I know coming here was impulsive, but we’re not boys anymore. I don’t want just sex from you. I don’t think you do either.”

  “I don’t,” Daniel assured him then he chuckled, feeling his face warm. “Well, I do want sex, but I want….”

  “More,” they said at the same time.

  Then Clay shifted, pressing all those muscles on top of Daniel, never breaking the kiss. Overcome with never-forgotten desires, Daniel moaned into his lips, grasping at him. He clutched Clay’s shoulders, squinting in the semidarkness, trying to make out the details of his ink in the faint light. Clay ground into him, his breaths coming in pants. Daniel clung to Clay’s naked back, loving how his muscles rolled beneath his skin.

  “Is this too fast?” Clay whispered, shifting to the side—giving Daniel a chance to breathe. He let his hand glide over Daniel’s side.

  A nervous tremble went through him when Clay paused on his love handles. “Maybe,” he admitted, getting lost in those blue eyes, his heart pounding. The self-consciousness faded when that hand moved, rubbing over Daniel’s hard cock. He hissed and thrust up. “That’s okay.”

  “Just okay?” Clay reached inside his underwear and gripped him.

  He moaned and clutched at Clay’s back, his entire being swept away in the joy of Clay touching him. Daniel gasped when Clay pushed down his underwear, grasping him then stroking him with his rough callused hand.

  Clay is touching my cock again!

  Caught up and needing to touch the man lying half on top of him, Daniel reached down and pushed Clay’s pajama bottoms down around his ass, exposing those warm, hairy mounds of flesh. Clay rolled away and tried to free his legs while Daniel quested for his erection. When he had it in his hands, he trembled as he caressed that warm length.