by Lynda Aicher
Finn brushed past him, exiting without a word. A mixed sense of relief and anger kicked his chest, but he quickly shut it down. Don’t think about it. Don’t put more into what happened than Finn does.
Forget. Move on.
“Are you getting in with your clothes on?” Finn was back, filling the cramped space and putting every still-sensitive nerve on alert. “Here.” He set a sports drink on the counter, the yellow liquid looking like heaven in a bottle.
Tanner grabbed it, twisted the lid off, and had it at his lips before he’d even thought about it. He swallowed half the bottle, each gulp rushing down his throat and quenching the thirst he only now acknowledged.
His hand shook as he lowered the bottle, the liquid sloshing before he set it down. A shot of energy flashed through him and he quickly shoved his tights down, the material rolling and catching in his clumsiness. He kicked his shoes off and jerked the material from his legs with zero grace. He kept his back to Finn, still unable to meet his eyes. The choice of showing his flaming face or his blazing asshole was an easy one.
He should bluff his way through this. Start the pretending before they couldn’t recover.
But he didn’t have it in him. Not yet.
His head still swam, a fuzziness holding it captive in that sense of distorted distance. He tugged his shirt over his head, arms feeling like lead. A weightiness pressed on his shoulders, flooded his limbs. He listed to the side, hand flying out in search of stability. It smacked into Finn, and he was there again. At his side, holding him up.
“Shit.” Finn grunted. “Come on.” He yanked the shower door open and maneuvered Tanner into the cramped cube, following him in before he snapped the door closed behind them.
The hot water hit Tanner in the face, shocking him. “What are you doing?” he sputtered. He turned his face to avoid the spray, Finn holding him firm when he tried to edge away.
Finn knocked the showerhead down so the water nailed their shoulders instead of their faces. Warmth rushed through him in a languid wave of amazing. He dropped his head back, avoiding the obvious closeness of Finn pressed to his front. In the shower.
What the hell?
Had they jumped into an alternate universe where boundaries didn’t exist and fantasies became reality?
It didn’t help that Finn was still fully clothed, the tight running garb molded to his form when it was dry. Now, it slid over Tanner’s skin, another tease he savored and rejected all at once.
“Would you look at me?”
The pain in Finn’s voice filtered in around Tanner’s irritation. He honestly didn’t know if he could. If he was ready to handle what he saw.
Then Finn’s hands were framing his face, urging his head up. He could’ve resisted. Could’ve forced his way out of the shower stall—but then what? There was no going back, only forward—whatever that entailed.
He let Finn guide him, a frail wall slipping around his heart to replace the brick-and-metal barrier that’d been there before. He swallowed, tried to find a center in this shifting sea of uncertainty and doubt, eyes still closed.
“Look at me.” Finn’s command was low but firm. He still cupped Tanner’s cheeks, his touch melting Tanner’s heart when he couldn’t afford to lose any more of it.
Finn pulled him closer, his forehead settling against Tanner’s. Too close. Too intimate. Their noses bumped, a rub that both deepened their connection and highlighted a distance that’d never been there before.
“I’m sorry.” Finn’s whispered apology brushed over Tanner’s lips. He clenched his hands, holding still while everything else wavered. “I shouldn’t have pushed you. I—” A low grunt-wince penetrated the blast of the spray. “Don’t hate me.”
Hate him? Never. Love him until he couldn’t think straight? Yes.
“I don’t hate you,” he managed to croak.
“You’re mad.”
“No.”
“I shouldn’t have done that.” Regret and anger. Frustration. Doubt.
“What?”
“All of it.” A soft admission.
Maybe. Yet Tanner had gone along. He’d wanted it as much as he was now second-guessing it.
He laid his hands on Finn’s hips, the bones prominent under his palms. So much leaner, but still strong. He’d overcome so much to get back to this point, and now Tanner’s insecurities were causing Finn more pain.
He couldn’t let that happen.
“It’s all right,” he reassured him, meaning it. A nudge of his nose, a light squeeze on Finn’s hips. His pulse kicked back up, a lazy want spreading from his heart to chase away the last of the chill. The futility of his desire didn’t matter when faced with Finn’s hurt.
“Is it?” The challenge was back, his hold tightening on Tanner’s cheeks. “Then why won’t you look at me?”
Shame. Embarrassment. Doubts. Fear.
Not Marine qualities at all.
Honor. Courage. Commitment. Those were the values he’d upheld and owned for almost twenty years. He sought them now, yanked them forward, and was strengthened by in their foundation.
He’d handle whatever he found.
He eased back, slowly opening his eyes to take his first look at Finn since he’d come in his hand. Those pale gray eyes stared back at him, so close and once again mirroring his own churning emotions. Doubts were there, heavy and draining. Remorse, edged with regrets. Sorrow centered on fear. And love. That bond connected them and held strong no matter how close they’d come to destroying it.
What he didn’t find was the scorn he’d irrationally imagined he would. The ridicule he’d piled on himself because of his anxieties.
This was Finn. The man who’d been at his side for so long he’d become a part of him. Like Chris had been.
Chris who was no longer with them.
He raised his hand, slowly, yet sure to rub his thumb over Finn’s cheekbone, a light stroke that voiced what he couldn’t. Then he wrapped his hand around Finn’s nape. Time was fickle and life was too short for things to be left unfinished.
Certainty set in, sure and confident. It filled him from his core, spread to connect each fragmented worry and dream into a cohesive picture. Regardless of where they went from here, he wouldn’t fear it.
Not anymore. Not when it held back what could be.
He shifted in, the few inches sliding away with the gentle cascade of the water. The slight lowering of Finn’s eyelids. The slow parting of his lips.
Eyes wide open, intent declared and clear, he slid his lips over Finn’s, the softness blasting his heart. He sucked in a slow breath, nudged gently to claim a solid touch. He savored it for a beat, two, then shifted to press a long kiss to Finn’s cheek. He urged him closer, arms encircling him in a tight embrace.
“I love you—brother.” The whispered words were spoken into Finn’s ear, truth riding on every syllable.
They’d said those words before, hundreds of times even, over the course of their friendship. Battles won and lost. Friends departed and connections lost. It didn’t matter if Finn understood how deeply he meant them. How great his love for him was.
Finn slid his hands around Tanner’s shoulders, clutching him tight. They came together, hard lengths meshed in the comfort of the known. Solid and grounding, when so much was in flux.
They stood like that, giving and taking the strength Tanner needed until he finally eased back. His smile was true when he met Finn’s gaze, his heart healing if not yet whole.
“Go.” He motioned to the door. “Let me finish, then you can clean up.”
The corner of Finn’s mouth turned up, his half-smile an acceptance, a truce, and understanding rolled into one. He nodded and left the shower, taking some of the warmth with him.
Tanner stood under the spray, thoughts absent beneath the clarity of acceptance. There would be no more hiding. No more walls to maintain or boundaries to adhere to. Everything had shifted.
But what exactly had changed?
He grabbed the soap, focused on the
task at hand, and let the worry go. Their friendship was intact. As for everything else, he’d handle it with the integrity he based his life on—when he wasn’t lying to himself and the world.
Chapter 12
A brisk wind slapped at Finn’s face, whistling over his ears as it rushed by. He took in the span of rolling blue-gray waves spreading into the horizon beyond the cliffs and the tree line. The wooden deck rail cut into his forearms where they were braced, but he didn’t move. In an odd way, he savored it. Like he did the cutting bite of the cold that penetrated his hoodie and reminded him he was alive.
What a fucking day.
He squinted into the setting sun and tried to avoid thinking about everything, only his thoughts kept churning, sprinting one way and then cycling back before fading completely. He’d fucked up this morning, and now he couldn’t find his footing. Not a surprise when he’d been barely stumbling along as it was.
The squeak of the sliding glass door opening signaled the end of his solitude. He tensed, then let it go on a long exhale. They’d both been quiet today, not surprisingly. Not exactly awkward around each other, but the comfortable ease was gone.
At least for him.
“Hey.” Tanner leaned down next him, gaze focused on the distance. A few inches separated them, the space normal yet so damn close now. “You still want to do this tonight?”
Finn glanced over, noting Tanner’s drawn brows and soft lips in the heartbeat it took to sense his reserved mood. “Yeah.” He stared back at the view, seeing it but not registering anything beneath the electric sparks popping over his skin at Tanner’s proximity. “I want to. You?”
Tanner didn’t answer right away, and Finn looked over to find his dark eyes studying him. He swallowed, nerves rushing in when they’d never been there before. The enormity of his mistake had crashed and receded all day, a repeated rebuke and retraction he couldn’t stop or balance.
“Yeah.” The wind feathered through the short strands of his hair, a hard gust that settled a moment later. “It’s going to suck, but yeah.”
“Agreed.”
He’d made the appointments with the tattoo artist last week. There was only one he trusted in this area, and postponing wouldn’t change what they needed to do—wanted to do. His heart clenched around the hole that’d been slowly closing since Tanner’s return. He didn’t pray much, didn’t even know whom he’d pray to, but that morning he’d put out a dozen pleas to keep Tanner with him.
A soft smile grew on Tanner’s lips, the same ones that’d kissed him so gently in the shower. “Do you remember that dive Chris dragged us to after that hailstorm of bullets we survived in the Koh-i-Baba Mountains?”
Finn chuckled, a warm memory replacing the nightmare of blood and terror. “The threat of death by infection from a tattoo instead of an IED.” He rubbed his pec, the black scorpion one of many commemorating events in his life.
“He was adamant we get them done right then.”
That had been Chris. No doubts or fears when he’d set his mind on something. Like starting Kick. A vague idea thought up on leave over beers, cigars, and not-so-deep thoughts on the Marines, war, and life after service. The three of them had dreamed and Chris had charged ahead.
“Crazy fuck,” Finn mumbled, chuckling before Chris’s absence snuck in to steal his breath. Damn it. Was the loss ever going to fade?
Tanner bumped his shoulder, sending him swaying a bit. Enough to knock his thoughts away and remind him of how close he’d come to losing this brother too.
I love you—brother.
So damn much.
He’d fumbled on his response in the shower, too lost in the light brush of lips that’d rocked his soul and scared him worse than any mortar bombs. Yet he’d managed to hug Tanner tight and somehow hold on to the one man he couldn’t bear to lose.
“What time do we need to leave?” Tanner asked.
“In an hour or so.”
A cloud slid in front of the sun, whose rays shot through to brighten the sky in hues of orange and pink. “Chris was a sucker for sunsets,” he said, thinking of all the times Chris had insisted on stopping everything to watch one, even if it was only to see it drop behind a building.
Tanner lowered his head, eyes squeezed tight, then looked back up. “Another day alive,” his wistful voice containing the sorrow still so fresh to him. “And now…”
“We go on,” he finished when Tanner didn’t. “He’s going to haunt us, you know. Make sure we live like he showed us how to do.”
Tanner sniffed around a low chuckle. “He will.”
“The prick.”
The lower the sun dropped, the more the wind picked up. Another storm was coming in, and with it a rare chance of snow, but it usually didn’t amount to much or stay long.
“Are you heading home for Christmas?” Finn asked, changing the subject. They’d escaped the frantic crush of the overcommercialized holiday while entrapped in his hideaway, but the calendar said the day would arrive in two weeks.
“I don’t know.” He straightened, and Finn caught the wince before he smothered it. His gaze darted to Tanner’s ass, thoughts flying back to the sight of the plug strapped into it. Of his hole, puffy, red, and gaping after being forced open for so long.
Fuck. He yanked his gaze away, and shoved the visuals from his mind like he’d been doing all day. He couldn’t shake them, though. Of all the things that got lost in the muddle of his scrambled brain, these ones wouldn’t.
“My mom will be disappointed if I don’t.” He shrugged. “But I can always see them after the holidays. When things slow down.”
“Is your dad still in San Diego?” The Navy admiral was at sea as often as he was in port.
“Yeah.” The distant thread of Tanner’s voice mirrored his gaze. “Trevor is stationed in Florida now, and he celebrates the day with his wife’s family. Tristan’s in port at the San Diego base, so his family will be there.”
His brothers were seven and nine years older than Tanner, and the age difference, along with the disjointed family dynamics, had kept them from being close. But still, it was Tanner’s family…
“Don’t stay here on my account.” Finn grimaced at how harsh that sounded. “I mean,” he hurried to add, “you can stay here as long as you want.” And after what he’d done that morning, how long would Tanner want to stay? “But I understand that you have a life outside of this.” He gestured before them, encompassing everything and nothing.
Tanner faced him, his hip resting on the rail. He crossed his arms, eyes narrowing with his cocked head. Finn slowly straightened, a frown drawing his brows down as apprehension crawled up his neck.
“What?” he asked, shoving his hands into his jean pockets. His hoodie had been plenty warm when he’d first come out, but the temperature was dropping with the setting sun. He would’ve been freezing in the thin thermal Tanner wore, but he showed no sign of being cold.
“Are you trying to get me to leave?”
Finn was shaking his head before Tanner had finished. “No!”
Tanner studied him for a moment longer before turning his head to catch the sun as it hit the edge of the horizon. “I don’t want to leave.”
The low admission barely reached Finn over the gust of wind that blasted around them. But it did, and the tight knot in his chest loosened a notch.
I love you.
They’d all said those words to each other over the years. Platonic. Like family, only deeper. But they’d taken on a new meaning since the shower. Could Tanner possibly have meant them as Finn felt them? And what if he did?
“Good.” Finn’s relieved sigh slipped out and got lost in the wind. “I don’t want you to leave,” he admitted. Ever. Tanner should’ve been with them the last five years, but…
Tanner’s slow nod was acceptance and forgiveness wrapped in one. They’d fix the mess he’d made with his impulsiveness. Remain friends.
The stunning scenery spread out behind Tanner was nothing compared with the
view he presented. Unique features over a powerful build and carried with a confidence that belied the years of harassment he’d endured. The backdrop had changed with time, but the man himself had only become more secure.
Had Finn ever been that strong? Even before the accident? He’d battled the gay bashing and alienation, but his looks alone had never been a trigger for mocking and comments.
Tanner stepped away from the rail, hands lowering to his sides. He paused, glanced at Finn, smile cocked. “We’ll figure this out.”
Finn managed a weak smile and nod, not nearly as confident as Tanner’s, and watched him go back inside.
The slider whisked shut on a high screech. He should grease that before the salty air damaged it more. The yard needed work too—the grass had lost its battle to moss and weeds. He should restock the woodpile, which he used to cut and haul himself, but now…
His thoughts flattened out, wisps of ideas darting in and out like distant notes until a flash of Tanner through the window had one ringing clearly.
I love you.
Holding Tanner in his arms. The feel of his hard cock beneath his palm. The velvety softness slicked with pre-come, the veins pronounced and straining. Hot come bursting forth after the strain of prolonged denial.
Power his to give. Control his to wield—if only for that moment.
His pulse raced, longing for another moment crashing through on a wave so overwhelming he almost let it wash him away. Almost.
There would be no more moments like that with Tanner. Not if he wanted him as a friend. And that was too damn precious to risk.
Chapter 13
Finn rolled his shoulders in an attempt to remove the remaining tightness from sitting for the tattoo. His back stung where the artist had augmented the existing tattoo the three of them had gotten back in ’07—again at Chris’s instigation, after they’d made it out of the desert alive when they’d thought they wouldn’t.
But they’d all designed it. Argued and added ideas until they’d come to a consensus on the image that best represented their bond. It’d garnered many comments, but none of them negative within the Marine brotherhood.
