The Lieutenants' Online Love

by Caro Carson

  Six weeks. The clock was ticking. He’d gotten some firm dates through the S-1 today. He was going to be promoted to captain in May. Then he’d be sent to the captain’s course at Fort Leonard Wood in June, a six-month school. That would be followed by an assignment as a company commander.

  Unless he blew it before then. He’d have to do something really stupid, like drunk driving. Like disobeying a regulation—like fraternization.

  Four months. He had four months before he could tell Chloe how he felt, legally. Four months until he could apologize for things she didn’t know he’d done. Four months before he could try to turn friends into lovers while he lived in Missouri and she in Texas.

  There would be no long-distance romance without having that friendship first. He needed to get rid of Drummer.

  No time like the present.

  They were at their desks. Thane sat back and typed a line to Ballerina on his phone, a casual blue hello. He hit Send.

  Chloe’s phone buzzed a second later. He watched her concentrating on her government-issued laptop, typing away diligently at some necessary bit of administrative work. She glanced at her phone. Kept typing.

  Thane sent Ballerina another line. Are you busy?

  Another buzz. Another quick glance.

  Thane really shouldn’t enjoy teasing her this much. One more message. This time he stood up as he hit Send.

  Her phone buzzed.

  “Yo, Chloe. Your phone is blowing up. Got a secret admirer?”

  She glared at him, but she picked up her phone. Thane stepped around his desk as she opened a very familiar white screen with pink and blue writing.

  “Who’s bugging you?” he asked.

  “None of your business.”

  “You’re not still exchanging sweet nothings with the creep who stood you up at the Nutcracker, are you?”

  She typed a word, maybe two on her phone, and hit Send.

  His phone didn’t buzz; he’d set it on silent. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against her desk, half sitting on the corner. “You are.”

  “I am not.”

  “You’re almost blushing. Lieutenant Chloe Michaels isn’t the blushing type. You wouldn’t be lying, would you?”

  She set her phone on her desk, screen side down, and sat back in her chair, crossing her arms like his. “I never type sweet nothings. He and I discuss things that matter. Conversations I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

  Thane bit his tongue. Hard. They conversed about vampire kindergartens and cold fried chicken. They rated the hotness factor of the 1960s aliens that appeared on the original Star Trek. “Why would you do that? Why should you discuss anything with him, sweet or not, when he stood you up?”

  “He couldn’t make it.”

  “That was December. It’s February. It’s been two months. Has he tried to set anything up that he could make?”

  “It’s February first. It’s only been six weeks.”

  “I’ll take that as a no. Aren’t you bothered that he hasn’t tried to see you again?” Come on, Chloe, dump the guy.

  “We enjoy talking to each other. We talk for hours. We don’t need to meet in person to do that.”

  He needed to try a new tactic. He’d been so frustrated when he’d wanted to meet Ballerina and she’d said no. Maybe if he could get her to want to meet Drummer and then Drummer said no...

  “Why don’t you take the first step? Maybe he’s embarrassed about being a no-show last time. Maybe he’d be relieved if you gave him a second chance. Invite him to a movie or something.”

  “If he wanted to catch a movie, he’s man enough to say so.”

  “I’m telling you, he’s waiting for you to make the first move. I’m a guy. Guys know how guys think.”

  She tilted her head and studied him a moment. “How about your date at the ballet? Are you two still hot and heavy?”

  “I never claimed we were hot and heavy, but I like how your imagination works.”

  “I’m not using my imagination. It’s observation. You weren’t dressed like a man who was expecting an intellectual date with his platonic friend.”

  Thane had to smile at that. Chloe had liked the way he looked that night, apparently. “Don’t you think a woman would be pretty mad if I missed the second act to drink whiskey with you?”

  “With me? You told her you were with me?” Her tone of voice made it sound like an utter impossibility. “Tell her not to worry.”

  “It’s hard to tell a woman not to worry if I spend the evening enjoying a whiskey and conversation with a woman in a low-cut black dress.”

  She blinked—but she recovered quickly. “You were enjoying yourself? Hardly.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short. It’s not that hard to enjoy a conversation with you.”

  She looked at him like he was absolutely insane. Damn, they had a long way to go.

  “Come on. I’ll prove it to you. Let’s go get lunch.”

  “Where?” She was always suspicious when he was nice to her.

  “The dining facility’s serving hot dogs and tater tots today. I remember that you like your dogs naked, but how do you dress your tots?”

  She looked away from him. He’d noticed before that she didn’t like to be reminded about their first day at the pool.

  He didn’t back off. “It’s like your hot dog test. I’ll learn all about your personality. Come on, Chloe. I’m starving.”

  “Fine.”

  Success. When she stood up and grabbed her patrol cap, he had to work to stay cool about it. They walked out of the headquarters building together. Like associates. Like fellow platoon leaders in the same unit. Like friends.

  “Let me guess,” he said, feeling jubilant that he had her by his side. “With everything I know about you, I predict that you’ll put ketchup on half of your tots, mustard on the other half, and salt the heck out of everything.”

  “What—how—” She looked shocked at his guess.

  “Not a hard guess. You’re a pretty salty woman. Must come from somewhere.”

  They walked a little farther in silence—and in step. Thane wondered if that was just a military thing, or if he and Chloe were tuned in to each other.

  “Tater tots don’t reveal a thing about a person,” she said stiffly, still in sync.

  “Then you’ve got nothing to fear. We can safely enjoy lunch and still not accidentally like each other.”

  “No chance of that.”

  “Really?” He’d said that wrong. He sounded a little, just a little, wistful. But she hadn’t sounded as convinced as she usually did, either. “Really, Chloe? There’s no chance that we might like each other?”

  “What do you mean?”

  It wasn’t time to reveal everything. It might never be time to reveal everything, but he could at least tell her part of the truth.

  “Do you ever think—”

  Two privates walked toward them on the sidewalk. They saluted. “Good afternoon, sir. Good afternoon, ma’am.”

  He and Chloe returned their salutes.

  “Do I ever think what?” Chloe asked. At least he had her curious enough to continue the subject.

  “Do you ever wonder how we would have gotten along if the first time we’d met had been at work instead of at that pool?”

  “No.” Chloe looked away, predictably. He’d mentioned the pool.

  Another private came toward them on the sidewalk, a sergeant close behind her. The closer they got to the dining facility, the more salutes had to be given and returned.

  Thane waited a moment for the soldiers to get a little distance away. “I wonder about it. If the first time I’d met you had been at the station, if the watch commander had introduced you as the new platoon leader, I would’ve been more open-minded. I would have given you a chance instead of arguing before we even got in the car.”

  “Oh.” She wouldn’t look at him.

  He couldn’t keep his eyes off her. “I would have been impressed with you by the en
d of that shift, Chloe. You’ve got the right attitude. You’ve got common sense. I would have felt like the 584th had won the lottery when it came to new lieutenants.”

  “As opposed to what? Since that didn’t happen, you don’t think I’m a lottery prize?”

  “As opposed to the way I acted. I acted like I wasn’t impressed, but I was. I should have been a better mentor from the very first night, instead of—”

  Another soldier jogged toward them in a rush, slowed to a walk, saluted. “Afternoon, sir, afternoon, ma’am.” Started jogging again.

  “Better?” Chloe asked. “You haven’t been any kind of mentor at all.”

  “I know.” They were getting close to the dining facility, so they’d be running a gauntlet of military courtesy in a moment. He had to speak now or hold his peace. “I’m glad you’ve had Sergeant Ernesto. He won’t steer you wrong. But I’ve given up being an ass, Chloe. It’s too hard to sustain it around a person who doesn’t deserve it. Who never deserved it. If Ernesto’s not around and you need anything—”

  They both greeted the major who came out of the dining facility and saluted him. Thane stopped just before the door. “Before we go in...”

  “What?” She looked a little apprehensive.

  He didn’t want to freak her out. It was time to lighten up. “Before we go in, let’s hear your guess on the tater tots. How do you think I take them?”

  “You’re weird.”

  He smiled. That was almost a term of affection between Drummer and Ballerina. “Take a guess.”

  “I think it’s a trick question. I think you choose french fries.”

  He laughed, genuinely surprised. “You’re right. You’re one hundred percent right. How’d you guess that?”

  “You take your hot dogs all fancy-schmanzy. You probably take your side item plain. For balance.”

  “Balance. You take your hot dog plain, and your tots fancy. Between the two of us, we’ve got all the bases covered. I told you, we might turn out to be friends.”

  * * *

  “Heard you had quite the night, sir.”

  Chloe hung up her desk phone and looked at her platoon sergeant. He’d come into her office, two steps behind Thane, but apparently not to talk to her.

  Thane sat, slowly, heavily, like his body was weighing him down. The chair wheels squeaked loudly. He half-heartedly raised an eyebrow at her, but barely returned her grin.

  They had a running joke about that squeaky chair. Last week, they’d sneaked it into Lloyd’s office and taken his. Like a game of hot potato, Lloyd had traded it out for one in the orderly room. Yesterday, the chair had made its way back to Chloe, so she’d switched it with Thane’s while he was on duty. He should have grinned at the squeak and started planning where to dump the chair next, but instead he was rubbing his forehead like a man who was even more exhausted than a twenty-four-hour shift normally made a person.

  “You should go home now, sir.”

  Thane had no grin at all for Ernesto. “I’m fine, Sergeant First Class. I know Lloyd’s out for the week, but you don’t have to take over his mother-hen duties. I’ll go home when my work is done.”

  Ernesto shook off his XO’s words. “There’s nothing critical on the schedule today, sir. No reason to not go home.”

  Thane pulled a clipboard out of a drawer and slapped it down on his desk. “This fire marshal thing is due. Today. Regulation requires an officer to do it. I appreciate your concern, Sergeant First Class, but if I say I’m fine, I’m fine. I’ll go home when I’m ready.”

  For the last two weeks, ever since Thane had buried the hatchet over hot dogs and tater tots, they’d been conspiring together to come up with practical jokes and laughing nearly every day. This morning, Thane did not look like a man who had laughed in a year.

  Chloe had no idea what was going on, but she trusted Ernesto. If he thought Thane should go home, then Thane should go. No one could make him go except the CO. She checked her watch. The CO wouldn’t be out of his battalion staff meeting for a couple of hours.

  Thane looked more than tired. More than angry. Something was wrong.

  “I can do the fire marshal duty,” she said.

  “No.”

  “Why not? What’s involved?”

  He sighed as if she’d asked a difficult question. “You check the gauge of every fire extinguisher in every building and initial that each one is charged.”

  “I can certainly see why they need a commissioned officer for that.” What a typical army thing, to require an officer’s legal authority for such a simple task. She would have laughed if Thane didn’t look so angry.

  Concern and kindness from Ernesto were only making him bristle. She’d have to try something else.

  She stood and picked up the clipboard. “Do you think I can’t handle this? You’re not that special, Thane. My initials are just as legal as your initials.”

  “It has to be at the S-3 by noon. The brigade S-3, not the battalion S-3.”

  “Ooh, scary.” She wiggled the fingers of one hand like something was spooky—her right hand, just to annoy him with her ring. Then she smacked him lightly on the shoulder with the clipboard. “I can handle this, Thane. You look like hell. Go home.”

  She left before he could argue with her or try to take the clipboard back. On her way out, she exchanged a quick glance with Ernesto.

  Make him go.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Assist-protect-defend.

  Thane couldn’t get the motto out of his damned head. It pounded in his brain as he pounded up the concrete steps toward his apartment.

  He’d taken such pride in his profession. Assist, protect, defend—it sounded so selfless, so noble. He’d helped a lot of people in the past two years. Each one had made him more confident that he’d be able to help the next one. A kind of arrogance had built, unchecked, because he had always been able to help the next one.

  Until now.

  The accident scene had been a nightmare. A single car upside down on an empty country road, its deflated airbag hanging out a shattered window, headlights still on and beaming into the night, illuminating the unmistakable mass that was a human being in the middle of the road.

  Thane had been calling it in on the radio as he’d driven closer, when his own headlights had shone on a second body in the road. He’d slammed on his brakes so that he wouldn’t hit it. Her.

  He’d thrown his car in Park and gotten out, but as he’d dropped to his knees by the woman in his headlights, he’d spotted the third body on the shoulder of the road.

  Assist, protect, defend—which one?

  For one hideous second, he’d knelt there, paralyzed. Where could he even begin? What help could he possibly be? He was insignificant in the face of real laws—of physics, of biology. Force and velocity defeated skin and bone, and the badge on his vest didn’t mean he could change the laws for these three people. Here we all are, gathered together in these headlights. Helpless.

  One frozen second—and then all his years of training had kicked in, and he’d given all he had to the woman under his hands. There’d been no pulse. There’d been a lot of blood. He’d forced breath into her lungs, tied a tourniquet between exhales.

  The woman on the shoulder had regained consciousness, moaning in pain for long moments, then gaining enough strength to cry out for help. As he’d worked on her friend, Thane had assisted her using the only thing he had left: his voice. I’m here. Help’s coming. Hold on. Hold on. Short sentences were all he’d been able to manage as he’d kept breathing for the woman who’d lost so much blood.

  She’d begun breathing on her own by the time they loaded her into the back of the ambulance. The conscious woman had been loaded into the next ambulance. Paramedics had clustered around the third woman, the one so far down the road, his headlights hadn’t touched her. The medics had done their job while he’d done his, directing MPs to secure the scene until the traffic investigators could arrive with their tape measures and cameras. />
  The ambulances had screamed away, sirens fading as they took the broken bodies and left the broken car. Traffic would do their analysis and arrange the tow truck. Thane’s part was over; 310 was free to go.

  He’d gotten a lot of pats on the back, approving touches that told him he’d been a success. Success had been bloody. He’d needed to clean up, so he’d gotten into his patrol car and headed back to the station. When the watch commander had brought him a cup of coffee, Thane had known he looked as rough outside as he felt inside.

  But soap and water and a cup of coffee did a lot for a man. The relief that the woman hadn’t died under his hands had turned to a strange sense of euphoria, but it hadn’t lasted long enough. Anger had set in by the time he’d left the station and gone to his office.

  Anger that he still felt as he pounded up the stairs. Anger at himself for that second of paralysis. Anger that he’d had his blissfully ignorant arrogance stripped away from him in a frozen moment on the blacktop. He’d never again be able to take life for granted the way he had before he’d knelt on the road.

  Life was vulnerable. Life could not defy physics, and yet, Thane passed door after door where full lives were lived. He was surrounded by life. He had a life.

  It was so incredibly valuable. What should he spend it on?

  Happiness.

  Ballerina’s goal. He’d asked her what her goal in life was, big life, but he’d never stopped to ask himself the same thing.

  Thane reached the top of the stairs. Before he pulled out his apartment key, he pulled out his phone. He wanted to talk through everything with Ballerina, but her real name was Chloe, and he knew she was currently counting fire extinguishers.

  She was counting those fire extinguishers for him, because she cared about him. Somehow, by some miracle, she cared about him.

  That was so incredibly valuable. Caring for another person, loving another person, that should be his priority in life. He loved her. He’d loved her since the first marathon typing session with Ballerina, eight months ago.