by Lynda Aicher
Finn was proud of that. Proud of the company they had built from an idea and determination. Then why did he feel like a duck out of water among them now? Not because of how anyone had treated him, but within his own skin.
Rig stopped at the back of a van that was used at a whitewater outpost to transport tourists to and from the river. He opened the rear doors and hopped inside, hunched over to keep from hitting his head.
“I’m thinking we need to replace these benches.” He pointed to the seats that lined both sides of the van. They’d had this one modified from the standard seats to accommodate more people and equipment.
Finn glanced at the benches, but didn’t bother to assess them too carefully. “If you think so, fine. Ash has the insurance details and who we’ve used in the past.” This was a prime example. He should care about this. He had cared before. Now…
He stared into the distance, mind traveling to Tanner—wherever he was. Over a month without any contact. That was good, though. He’d rather hear nothing than the wrong something.
Their last quick call before Tanner had shipped out had left Finn both shattered and awed. Tanner had completed the name switch on the emergency contact form and had told his parents. Done. That simple—or so he’d made it seem. He’d changed his life and declared his love for Finn to those who had the biggest influence on his life.
Had he done it because Finn had told him to or because Tanner had wanted to?
It was done now, whatever the reason, his declaration irrevocable. A promise made to Finn.
He blinked, looked down. His heart wrapped around Tanner’s pledge and held it tightly. It ached most days, the emptiness palpably there—if not quite solid. Tanner was coming back. He refused to think otherwise.
“Finn?”
He yanked on the thread that led to Rig and the conversation they’d been having. “Yes?” Things were linking faster now, the metronome therapy working better than his therapist had dared hope for.
Rig jumped out of the van and shut the doors. He leaned against them, arms crossing, concern wrinkling his brow. “No word?”
He shook his head, lips pressed tight. He didn’t need a detailed map to follow Rig’s question. His chest constricted, the punch hitting too close to his own thoughts. Rig studied the far fence and Finn followed his gaze to stare at the nothingness of an alley and a brick wall beyond it. Conversation from the garage reached them in broken bits of raised voices and distorted replies.
“Can I ask you something?”
Finn withheld his wince, dread twisting in him. “Sure.”
“Where do you want to be?”
“With Tanner.” The truth burst free without hesitation or thought. His heart had shoved it up before his brain could stop it. But he didn’t hide from it, not when it was the only thing he wanted.
“I’ve fought for so damn much,” he went on, the dam opening on feelings he’d held back until now. “My country. Other people’s rights and freedoms. A place in this world. I’ve fought against prejudices, idiocy, bigotry, sexism, and the basic human right to simply love without fear. I’ve spent my entire life fighting for something, and now…” His sigh was long and heavy, weight smothering it. “Now I just want to live in peace.” Somewhere quiet, maybe. Serene or even wild. It didn’t matter, as long as Tanner was with him.
His hands were clenched at his sides, balled into fists so tight the tension traveled up his arms and through his shoulders. His vision blurred, and he blinked to clear it. His emotions crested and receded quickly these days. He’d experience flashes of anger, hits of sorrow, shots of emptiness, and then let them go. The Marines were partially responsible for teaching him to do that. To embrace and forget. Only he didn’t forget anymore.
Life was too short and precious, and he’d already lost so much. He didn’t want to forget a single thing now. Not when the relearning process sucked so fucking badly.
“Then you should do that.”
The low rumble of Rig’s voice opened a door Finn had been looking at since Tanner left. A breeze wafted in, spring and renewal on its wings. He inhaled and let the fresh air cleanse him.
“I should,” he agreed when he found his voice again. His shoulders lowered as his muscles relaxed, his fists uncurling to let the tension drain out. I should. He’d known that every day of this last month, but the simple act of being granted permission, even though he hadn’t needed it, was freeing. “What about Kick?”
“It’s not going anywhere.”
It wasn’t. “You don’t really need me.” It was a fact, not a pity statement. “Which is good. Thank you.”
“We wouldn’t have done anything else. This company…” Rig laughed, a dry, humorless huff of air. “Gave all of us a purpose. It’s a safe haven. You know that. It’s why you started Kick, and every one of us is grateful to be a part of it.”
A smile broke free on Finn’s face. “Chris would be so damn happy to hear you say that.” That had been his ultimate goal, and to know he’d succeeded was…nice.
“What about you?”
What about him? He’d just wanted his brothers to stick together. Kick had provided that opportunity. Tanner had been invested with them even if he’d remained in the Corps. But Chris, that crazy fucker, had dreamed bigger, and then Tanner had encouraged them to enlarge their family until there’d been no chance of Finn ever being alone again.
“I’m glad,” Finn finally answered, nodding. “The partner structure was Tanner’s idea. Did you know that?” He looked to Rig, warmth filling him as the thread connected. “He’d seen the bigger picture, like he always had. He laid down the map, defined the routes in and out, and had us build a team that’d succeed no matter who went down.” The clarity of that vision opened in his mind and blossomed into full understanding. “He’d been planning contingencies since the very beginning. All while giving Chris and me exactly what we wanted.” Except Tanner himself.
He let his head drop back, a chuckle rasping out. How the fuck had he missed that? Had he really been that blind? Tanner had never fully given himself. Not to Kick—or to Chris and him or the others.
Not until he’d come back to help me.
And then he’d given everything.
His heart filled even more. Certainty breathed with clarity and solidified with purpose. “I have to go to him.”
Rig gripped his shoulder, gave it a squeeze. “It sounds like it.”
Finn looked to him, assessing. “And you’re okay with that?”
A rare, true smile split Rig’s face. “Is that your way of asking if I’ll keep running shit?”
Finn chuckled, punched Rig in the side before he could block it. He recoiled, his laugh joining Finn’s. Then the joking fell away, and he let his love for this brother show. “Will you?”
Rig shrugged, the casual action an attempt to brush off the importance. “I have nothing better to do.”
Finn nodded. “I guess I’m lucky then.”
“You are.” The serious note was backed by his expression. “Very.”
To be alive. To have another chance at life. To find love and a guy who loved him back just as deeply. Yeah, he was damn lucky. “I guess we need to corral Ash and start making plans.”
Rig barked out a scoff, brow arching. “I dare you to tell him that right now.”
That got another laugh out of Finn. “We can wait until inventory is done.” Ash would cut his head off with one scathing look if Finn derailed his organization mission. He’d dragged his ass, and man, back from Utah—his words, not Finn’s—to get this done.
“Smart man.”
“I’m trying to be.” Yet another glaring truth, given the state of his brain and where he’d been a few short months ago. He’d once doubted he’d ever make it this far. Grady had been the pain-in-the-ass who’d driven him mad when he’d been able to ignore everyone else, and Grady had suffered more than he’d needed to over the accident. Getting better had been the only way Finn could see to alleviate Grady’s pain.
>
“Thanks, by the way,” he said, following his disjointed thoughts. “For bringing Grady in. Making him a partner even though I wasn’t around.”
“He was qualified,” Rig said, brushing him off. “He was suffering, and he was family. Of course we’d make him a partner. It was what you’d wanted.”
It had been, but that didn’t mean they’d had to do it. His appreciation swelled for the group of guys he and Chris had corralled into their own strange family.
But he had to focus on one member now. The one who meant the most to him and needed him far more than any of these guys did. He’d be there for Tanner, whatever that meant and wherever that was.
—
The call came a week later in the middle of the night, a simultaneous buzz and ring that yanked Finn from sleep to awake in a second. He lurched for his cell and swiped it on as the caller ID registered.
“Tanner!” he barked, breath held, heart racing as he waited for verification. That final proof.
“Finn.” Tanner’s voice came through quiet. Sad. Relieved.
His breath rushed out, relief crashing in with the tears that stung his eyes. He flopped back on the bed, eyes squeezed tight, thanks going out to the universe. Tanner was safe. He was calling. That was good. So damn good.
He swallowed, pressed his fingers to his eyes, and forced his voice to work. “Hey.” Pathetic, but it was at least a sound.
“I uh…” A hitching breath cut over the line. “I’m on my way back.”
Finn launched up, the blankets pooling at his waist. “When? Wait!” He scrambled to think straight, and grabbed the most important thread. “Are you okay?” Was the mission over, or had he been hurt?
“I’m…fine.”
The hesitation didn’t slip past Finn. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Tanner’s hoarse chuckle plucked at Finn’s warning signals. “How much I miss you. I love you. I can’t wait to see you.”
Well, fuck. Finn choked around a wry laugh. “Me too. I’m—” He sniffed, cleared his throat, and focused on being strong. “I love you. It’s so damn good to hear your voice.” He’d never longed to hear anyone’s voice the way he had Tanner’s this last month.
“Yours too.” His pause wrapped around Finn and held the promise he’d hoped for. “The mission’s done. The team’s coming back on an air transport with another company.”
“When?” His grip tightened on his phone.
“We’ll arrive at Pendleton at sixteen hundred Thursday.”
Finn swung around to stare at his clock. “Today.” It was three in the morning. He launched out of bed, not sure what he was doing, but knowing he needed to do something. Fast. Tanner would be home in thirteen hours. He flicked on the light and spun around, squinting against the sudden brightness.
“Yeah. I guess so.” Tanner’s smile reached through the line to slow Finn down. “I’ve got to go. I’ll call you when I’m back.”
“Fuck that,” Finn said, the curse light. “I’ll meet you there.”
“Yeah?”
“Is that all right?”
Tanner cleared his throat, the rumble brief and tight. “Yeah. That’d be…Yeah.” He coughed, and Finn’s smile grew bigger. He provided a hangar and flight number that Finn scratched onto the notepad beside his bed, kept there for this reason, and for when he woke up in the night with random thoughts that he needed to resolve in the morning.
“Fly safe,” Finn said. “God, I love you.” I’m so fucking happy you’re coming home.
“I’ll see you soon.”
The call ended way too quickly. Finn dropped onto the edge of his bed, head clutched in his hands. Tanner was safe. He’d be here later today.
In my arms.
That was everything. The only thing.
And he had some plans to set into motion.
Chapter 28
The elevation drop clicked off in Tanner’s subconscious, his thoughts far away. He’d tried to sleep on the long flight, but had only managed an hour or two. He was dead tired. Exhausted to the very tip of his fingernails and almost numb to the world around him. But he was alive, and this time, every one of his Marines was coming home, with no physical injuries.
His Marines. He would’ve laughed at that if he had the energy.
They weren’t his. Every man on his team was highly trained and capable, all on his own. But he still felt responsible for each of them. Yet another one of the families he’d created. He’d been doing that his entire life. Creating groups around him—to what purpose? In the end, he’d always run away from them, even if it hadn’t been obvious. A base transfer. A new unit. A contrary decision. Reenlistment. Every one of those actions had distanced him without actually severing anything.
And then he’d do it again. Rebuild. Create. Nurture. Repeat.
He fingered the custom dog tag he’d found in his bag, the box obviously slipped in by Finn before he’d left. He knew the engraving by heart, having traced it hundreds of times by now. How Finn had found someone to replicate the image of their brother tattoo onto the tiny silver disk he’d never know. But the thought was perfect. The gift a reminder of who was waiting for him.
The wheels touched down, the brakes kicking them forward until they were all jarred back, one heaving and shifting mass of men in tan fatigues.
Grumbled complaints mixed in with the undercurrent of excitement that grew as they taxied. They’d been debriefed overseas, and his team would be officially released from duty the second they were dismissed, with two extra weeks of leave granted for their above-and-beyond commitment and sacrifice.
Whatever. Right then, all any of them cared about was seeing their loved ones—and sleep. Days and days of uninterrupted sleep. And sex. That’d be good too.
His pulse beat harder as they filed off the plane, covers on and chins raised. They lined up in formation and marched into the hangar to stop before the assembled crowd, the routine ingrained after so many deployments.
But this one was very different for him.
His skin crawled with expectancy. He’d never had that sensation before, not like this. Nerves were there too, buzzing through his blood, thumping in his heart. He forced his gaze straight ahead, though, focus still on his job. His duty—for another minute.
He responded automatically to the commands, body moving without fully registering the words. Was Finn here? As a retired veteran, he still had access to the base—if he’d found a flight down.
“Fall out.”
The command freed them all. His muscles relaxed, pose falling away as he turned to shake the hands of a few of his teammates. The brothers who’d sacrificed as much as he had and risked their lives to save his.
Then he was moving through the crowd, dodging hugs and tear-filled reunions as he hunted for his own.
He spotted his father first, the Admiral standing tall in his service khakis, a thin band of gray hair displayed beneath his cover. He was even more imposing in his sixties, if that was possible. His mother was beside him, over a head shorter and just as commanding in her crisp suit. She never faltered in her dedication to represent his dad’s position and uphold the respect that was given to him.
And there, right next to his mother, was Finn.
His heart took the kick that knocked the air from his lungs. He moved quicker, one destination in mind. Finn looked so damn good. Grin wide, pride shining clearly. He’d filled out more, muscles defined beneath his button-up shirt.
He absorbed everything in the moments it took to reach him. Finn stepped up, and then Tanner was in his arms, Finn’s strength holding him up when he wanted to sink into him and never let go. God…this. This right here. He’d missed this so damn much.
Finn cupped the back of his head, his hold sure. He buried his face in Finn’s neck and breathed deeply. The soapy scent welcomed him home, and he squeezed back the tears flooding his sinuses and piling up behind his eyelids.
“Fuck. I missed you,” Finn whispered. There was a touch of lips
by his ear, a slight graze that seared down Tanner’s neck and pushed the longing forward.
He pulled back, grabbed Finn’s face, and kissed him. Hard and long and damn certain. Relief eased the ache that’d surrounded his heart since he’d left Finn’s house all those weeks ago. Finn kissed him back, the press of lips chaste yet enough. Perfect.
Tanner gave him another peck and hugged him again, unable to let him go. Not now. Not ever. People milled around them. Men and women he served with. People he’d known for years. And none of them mattered.
Finn finally eased him back, his smile wrinkling the corners of those blue-gray eyes. They were bluer now, and shining with the tears he’d managed to hold back. But they were happy and filled with love.
He wiped at Tanner’s cheeks with his thumbs, clearing away the dampness. “Welcome home, Marine.” His voice was husky, and gorgeous.
“I’m so damn happy to be back.” He couldn’t take his eyes off Finn. He soaked up every nuance, from the freshly shaved face to his shorter haircut.
“Tanner.” His mother’s soft voice broke through his fog, and he reluctantly released Finn to give her the hug she’d been waiting for. “It’s good to have you back.”
“Thanks, Mom.” He kissed her cheek, her flowery perfume another staple in the sense of home she’d always provided. “It’s good to be back.”
He straightened and faced his father, who didn’t hesitate to bring him into a hug. “I’m proud of you, son,” his dad said by his ear, the gruffness carrying the words deeper.
Tanner understood that he was talking about more than his service, and damn, that brought the tears back, just when he’d thought he had them under control. “Thank you.”
He stepped back, reaching for Finn without thinking about it. Just to make contact. To know he was there when he’d thought he’d never be. To verify this was real and not some weird cabin thing that’d faded once he’d left.
It wasn’t, and nothing had faded.
The connection hummed up his arm and centered in his chest to confirm everything he’d doubted, yet not entirely.
