by Lynda Aicher
“Tanner?”
He jerked up, thoughts jumping to Rig’s question. “No. I’m good.” The desire to get lost in the haze of alcohol held zero appeal. “Dinner was nice,” he added, out of courtesy and a need to say something. “Thanks for the invite.”
Rig grunted a dismissal, and took up a spot next to him on the wall that joined the kitchen to the open living area. A football game played on the flat screen over the mantel, the group of guys spread out on the comfortable furniture watching it. A fake Christmas tree stood in the corner, the multicolored lights blinking at odd intervals that messed with his newly acquired sense of rhythm. Thanks, Finn.
“There’s room in there.” Rig motioned to the living room. Most of the guys were Kick partners, men he’d hung out with and was comfortable with. Except for Grady, Micah, and Sawyer. They were new to him, but obviously not to the rest of the group.
“I’m just getting some air,” he said. He swallowed around the knot that had lodged in his throat for some fucked-up reason. He’d spent last Christmas with his company amidst a foreign military that didn’t exactly welcome Christian holidays. This should’ve been so much better, but he couldn’t get into it.
Rig gave one of those nods that said he knew better. Older than the rest of them by a few years, Rig had been an intel man in the Corps and served in a special operations support battalion while Chris and Finn had been there. Rig had gone on multiple missions with their company and had rank on everyone except Tanner. He’d stepped up and filled in at Kick without hesitation, and Tanner couldn’t thank him enough.
“Thanks for the updates,” he said, to ensure he continued sending them. “On Kick. Finn hasn’t—” What? Whatever he said would sound wrong.
“Been ready to reengage,” Rig filled in. “I know.” He focused on the room, on Finn, who was sitting between Grady and Axel, a genuine smile on his face. “He’s doing better now.” He looked to Tanner. “Like a hundred percent better. Physically at least.”
“Mentally too,” Tanner added. His conversations were smoother, thoughts flowing without getting lost. He didn’t stumble over tasks like he had a month ago, or get frustrated as easily. Most important, his confidence was back, as had been evident since they’d arrived here.
“That’s…a relief.”
“Yeah.” A huge fucking relief.
A roar went up from the room, the celebration indicating a touchdown. He didn’t even know who was playing—that’s how out of it he was. While Finn was back in his comfort zone, Tanner was floundering outside of his.
“What’d you do?”
He frowned in confusion at Rig. “What do you mean?”
“For Finn?” He raised a brow. “I know you guys are tight, but it’s like you slipped him a magic pill or something.”
Tanner choked on his spit, coughing through the hysterical laugher he couldn’t hold back. If his dick and come were magical, then yeah, he’d slipped Finn that. Fuck. His eyes were watering before he’d finally found his breath.
“You okay out there?” War called.
He glanced at the room to see too many eyes staring at him. “I’m good,” he forced out, and headed to the sink for a glass of water. He kept his back to the room and let the liquid soothe away the last of the catch in his throat.
He had to get it together. This—whatever he was having—needed to go the fuck away. He was stronger than this. Finn didn’t need Tanner’s shit messing with his recovery. A long breath, another swallow of water, and he’d locked down his churning emotions.
Rig was right there when he turned around, his expression stern, that gunnery-sergeant scowl tuned and ready to deploy. Screw that. Rig slapped a hand to Tanner’s chest, halting his progress. Tanner instantly stiffened, that fight-or-flight instinct kicking in for no apparent reason. This wasn’t a fight. He wasn’t in combat. Rig wasn’t his enemy. Yet the urge to lash out crawled over his skin and taunted his thoughts.
“What’s going on?” Rig asked, voice low, concern lining his brow.
Tanner closed his eyes, breathed deeply before he forced himself to meet Rig’s eyes. “I’m fine. Just on edge today.” When he should be completely relaxed. His leave was almost done. He should be calm and ready to return to his job. The life he knew. The brothers he worked with now. His team.
He looked past Rig to the team in the other room. They were a unit too. And he was an outsider here. But he could be a part of them—if he only made the leap. And left everything he knew behind.
“It’s more than that.”
He leveled a glare at Rig. “And maybe it’s none of your fucking business.”
Because how was he supposed to explain how much he missed Finn already? How the distance that’d automatically crept between them the second they’d stepped into Rig’s house was quietly killing him. They’d both reverted to their standard friendship roles without thought or discussion. Were they only a cabin thing? Something to hide? Why?
Yet wasn’t this what he wanted? What if Finn visited him on base? Would they be buddies like in the past? Would Finn expect him to be out among his fellow Marines? His family? Did he want to be out or not? What was he afraid of?
Christ. He swiped a hand over his face and stepped back. He was a fucking mess, That much he knew. His butt hit the counter, and he leaned into it. There was no one here to fight. No enemy. Except himself.
And wasn’t that a joke. He’d been fighting himself his whole damn life. He should be past that by now. The rebel youngest brother who couldn’t fully rebel. The misfit Asian who refused to not fit in. He’d worked his whole damn life to belong, and he’d done it.
On the many Navy bases. Within his family. In the Corps.
With Finn and Chris.
So how come it felt like he didn’t belong anywhere now?
His stomach twisted around his thoughts. Logically he knew he was being irrational. That he wasn’t making sense. Yet emotionally, he couldn’t stop the fears from cycling faster and faster. Twenty years in the service. A life of fighting and killing and saving. Of running into death again and again, only to end up crumbling on a kitchen floor.
Ooh-rah.
Then arms were encircling him, Finn’s soapy scent enveloping him in the shelter he craved more than anything else. To just be safe. To know everyone he loved was safe. Would he ever have that? No. Fuck, he knew that would never happen.
He let Finn hold him, though, sunk into those arms that held him stronger than anyone else ever had, and breathed. Long, slow breaths that let him know he was still alive. That there was a reason he’d survived so many deployments when others had died on their first.
“I’ve got you,” Finn whispered near his ear, breath warm and confirming.
“I know.” He did. But only for now. “I have to go soon.” In days. He’d be alone then. Back to his other life, where he’d march along fulfilling his service and being the man he’d sculpted himself to be.
“I’ll still have you.”
“Will you?”
“Always, fucker.” Finn pulled back, framed Tanner’s face with his hands. His eyes were dark and intense with a fierce belief. “You can’t get rid of me.”
“I don’t want to.” Not ever. “Christ.” He puffed out a self-deprecating laugh. “When did I get so fucking needy?” He closed his eyes, embarrassment rushing in to poke at his manhood. Really? He was having this little meltdown here?
Finn kissed him, a soft brush of lips that held and said so much. I love you. I need you too. I’ve got you. We’ll be fine.
Tanner opened his mouth and took Finn in, his love flowing with every swipe of his tongue and dip of his head. He absorbed it all, took the security and wrapped it around the fears that’d crept in. This. He could do this every day and be okay. Be here for—and with—Finn.
“Holy fuck.”
The exclamation jarred them apart. Tanner sucked in a breath and glared over Finn’s shoulder at Axel, who was being hauled out of the kitchen by Rig.
; “But…” Axel pointed at them, mouth gaping. “Are you two…I thought—”
“Shut it, Axe,” Rig snapped.
“What’s going on?” War stepped up behind Rig, frowning. He could easily see over Rig, and he stared at Tanner and Finn like they’d each sprouted two heads.
Finn tensed in his arms, but he didn’t pull away, and neither did Tanner. This was what he’d wanted, right? To be a couple among their friends. To love Finn openly.
“What happened?” someone else called.
Grady came around the couch. “What happened to Finn?”
“I think he’s getting some,” War quipped.
“Or was about to,” Axel added. Rig gave up on his attempt to extract him from the room as more guys flowed into the space.
Finn turned to face their growing group of interrogators, one arm still slung over Tanner’s shoulders, holding him close. He stood tall, and Tanner did the same, his arm wrapped around Finn’s waist. He met each gaze as the crew from the living room crowded into the kitchen to stare at them.
“Really?” Finn asked, sarcasm heavy. “This is going to freak you out? We’re all fucking gay, so what’s the deal?”
“But—”
“I thought—”
“What about—”
“Chris,” Axel finally blurted.
The silence that followed would’ve rocked the hell out of stealth training. No one moved or uttered another word. Like that name explained everything.
And it did.
Finn tensed. Tanner tightened his hold.
“He was our brother,” Tanner finally said. “Our best friend. You all know that.” He hardened his glare, daring anyone to challenge that, even if they hadn’t known it.
Axel glanced at War, then Rig. He scratched his head, brows lowering before he threw up his hands. “Fine. I’ll say it. So, what? You guys were a threesome this whole time? I always thought it was platonic between you three.”
Heads nodded in agreement. War, Hopper, Dog, Cort. The only ones who appeared completely confused were Grady and Micah. Rig, Ash, and his new boyfriend, Sawyer, had neutral expressions, which really didn’t help.
“I don’t see how this is any of your fucking business,” Finn finally answered. “I don’t butt my nose into who any of you fuck.”
Fuck. The word stung when it shouldn’t have. Tanner was too damn sensitive right now.
“We’re not judging,” Axel insisted.
“It sounds like it from here,” Tanner said, voice hard. He didn’t care who these fucks were. They weren’t taking Finn down. Not after all he’d been through.
“We’re just concerned,” War added.
“About me hurting him.” Scorn lined Tanner’s voice as he filled in the unsaid. “Fuck you.”
“What do you expect?” Grady interjected, scowling. “You show up out of the blue nine months late and whisk him away to fuck knows where for the last month. Why should we trust you?”
“Stop!” Finn stepped forward, his glare nailing them all. His order triggered every instinct to obey that’d been bred into Tanner’s military psyche, and he barely restrained the urge to snap to attention himself. Which would really have defined him as the crazy dude.
“What the fuck is going on?” Finn scanned the gathered group, annoyance layered over disgust. “We’re a team.” He paused as the importance of the statement sunk in. “It has been one goddamn stressful year. Shit happened. Things change. We adapt. We—”
“Overcome,” War barked, chin raised.
Finn nodded, approval spreading over his face. “We do not attack our own.” He stood between them, shoulders back, chest out, the warrior shining through.
Damn…Tanner swallowed hard to hold back the swell of pride and love that clawed through the control he’d just regained. There was the guy he’d followed into battle. The man he’d willingly lay down his life for. The brother who’d anchored them, when most had thought it’d been Chris.
Finn stared at him, words flying without sound. I won’t hide. I don’t want you to.
So he’d been distant because of him. He’d thought what? That Tanner wouldn’t want them to know? Didn’t want to love him in public? A stab to his heart almost knocked him down. Because part of that was true.
“You see that man right there?” Finn pointed at Tanner, all eyes landing on him. “I love him.” Fire shone in his eyes, his fierceness stunning. He didn’t look away from Tanner, his words directed at the others—and at him. “He’s been my best friend for over a decade. He fought at my side. Hauled my ass out of some fucked-up situations. Saved my life more than once.” His hand was shaking when he lowered it. His voice dropped too, the tone softening. “Chris was our other brother. And we miss the fuck out of him.” His voice cracked, and he paused, swallowed. “His death changed a lot of things.”
Finn took a step toward Tanner, his gaze never wavering. “Maybe I realized how much I wanted what’s been in front of me for years. Maybe it freed me to love Tanner differently. I don’t know. But I love Tanner completely. That has nothing to do with Chris or the relationship we had with him. This is about us now. I won’t look back.”
“Only forward,” Tanner finished, tears choking his throat. He hauled Finn in and kissed him with a desperation and passion he’d never experienced with anyone else. He didn’t care about anyone or anything except letting Finn know how much he meant to him. How much he loved him too.
Finn took and gave with swirling licks and quick dips that melted everything in Tanner. He couldn’t breathe, and didn’t care.
The clapping—or was it the wolf whistle—finally broke through his blind focus on Finn. His smile slowed their kiss, Finn’s own smile curving against his. This, right here, was pure joy. Love and support within the family Finn and Chris had built.
That was…everything.
Finn was everything.
Leaving was going to suck so fucking much. But he had to go. And he had no idea when he’d come back.
Chapter 25
Finn found Tanner sitting on the edge of Finn’s bed, his focus locked on his hands clasped around his phone. The overhead light shone on his black hair and cast shadows over his face. He was lost in thought, not even noticing Finn in the doorway. Finn had caught him like this frequently over the last week, staring into space with that blank expression on his face, and even more often in the two days since Christmas and the confrontation at Rig’s.
The ache to help him spread through Finn’s chest and squeezed his heart. What could he do? The dominance play was all good, but subspace was a reprieve, not a solution for Tanner. He wouldn’t talk about whatever was bothering him, either—and that was normal. Hell, none of them had ever been great at opening up. Not without alcohol and a way to purge the released demons. Add in the always lurking threat of being unable to close it all back up, and the stone wall of silence descended.
Leave was supposed to be a time to regenerate. To forget about war and find some peace—before one had to be a warrior again.
But this…He squeezed his eyes closed, swallowed back the rising ache. It was killing him to see the blankness in Tanner. Had it been there the whole time? Had he been too stuck in his own shit to see it?
He glanced at the package in his hand, doubts weaving in on the threads of worry. They hadn’t exchanged gifts on Christmas Day, a habit that’d bled over from Chris, who’d nixed the tradition in favor of donating the funds to a nonprofit that helped veterans. But Chris wasn’t here, and he wanted Tanner to have this when he left.
Everything in him said that was going to be soon even though Tanner still had days remaining on his leave. Finn had learned to trust his instincts long ago, and fortunately the accident hadn’t damaged those too.
They’d be fine. They’d work it out. He’d be here for Tanner like Tanner had been there for him. He told himself all those things, and put his belief out there. He had to believe in it or he’d be back to where he was a month ago.
They were a
team now. An even stronger one despite being a man down.
He sat beside Tanner, the mattress sinking beneath him. Tanner didn’t look up or acknowledge his presence. But he leaned into him, his weight pressing into Finn’s arm. Intentional or unconscious?
Finn glanced around his bedroom, taking in all the things he’d been staring at for over five years now. They’d stayed in Portland after Christmas, and a part of him wanted to drag Tanner back to the cabin and say fuck the world. Fuck the stupidity and pressures and…everything.
Which was a fantasy.
Tanner was loyal to his core. He had a job to return to. An obligation that’d been stronger than the one he’d had to Finn and Chris. He’d chosen the Corps over joining them at Kick in the past. Would that change in the future? Did he want Tanner to leave a job he still loved?
“I have to go,” Tanner said, shattering the quiet with his soft admission.
Finn sucked in a silent breath, acceptance wrapping around his resistance. “I had a feeling.”
“There are, uh”—he cleared his throat, the rumble raw and dry—“things I have to take care of.” Finn winced, the hurt digging into the loss that still lingered from Chris. “I need to see my parents. Sort out my life there.” Which had been on hold since he’d left for his last deployment—eighteen months ago. That meant everything stateside had been closed down with the temporary move.
“Right.” Finn had expected this. He’d known it was coming. He’d just stubbornly refused to think about it. Now he had to. “I can come with you.” There was nothing keeping him here. “Help sort things out. I know the processes and—”
“What?” Tanner shook his head. “A ‘friend’ doesn’t have those privileges.”
Ouch. Finn winced, absorbing the hit. Tanner could change the friend status. Give him the legal power to have a right in his affairs. But that was a huge step and would have a major impact on Tanner’s life. He’d named his parents in his power-of-attorney documents, and changing those would be equivalent to coming out.
