2. Roman
CHAPTER 2
ROMAN
I walked out of the doctor’s lounge and paused, unsure of where to go. I’d been in Germany for several weeks, but this was my shift. The Army wasn’t great at giving us the lay of the land before throwing us into the deep end. I wasn’t complaining. I’d been in the sandbox for months. Landstuhl wouldn’t be a cakewalk, but it would be nice working in a regular hospital without being sandblasted on a daily basis.
“Welcome to Larmcy, doctor.”
I smiled at the pretty nurse in front of me. “Thank you…”
“Ursula.”
“Ursula?” I asked, wondering if she was a local until I caught sight of her military ID.
She laughed, “Well, technically, Lieutenant Ursula Muller, U.S. Army. My parents are both of German descent, with grandmothers named Ursula. As the only girl in the family, I got stuck with the name.”
“And I thought my parents naming me Roman was bad,” I joked.
“Yeah, I win this round. Sorry, not sorry. So, I’m your welcome wagon. Let’s get you introduced to everyone and acclimated.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant.”
“You’re welcome. You’ll find we’re pretty laid back here. Just a big dysfunctional family because, well, as you know, we typically spend more time with each other than our families.”
I nodded. Medicine didn’t let you have much of a personal life. The military was worse. Combine the two, and there wasn’t much time for anything outside of the hospital.
She darted through the halls, pointing out rooms and introducing me to people who were too busy to do more than wave or lift their chin in acknowledgment. It was a chaotic, energizing atmosphere filled with some of the worst injuries and suffering imaginable.
“Questions?” she asked when we made it back to where we started.
Before I could respond, Ursula’s pager went off and someone yelled, “Captain Ott! Lieutenant Muller! I need you. We have a medical transport coming in from down range.”
Ursula turned, sprinting off, and I followed.
“Who’s our patient?” I called out to the nurse who’d yelled at us.
“Navy is all I know.”
Carson.
My heart kicked up. It always did at the mention of a Navy patient. You’d think ten years would’ve eradicated his presence in my head, but he lived there rent-free, and no amount of screwing around had been able to evict him from my brain. He’d been shackled there since I first laid eyes on him in middle school.
When the patient was wheeled in, a flurry of activity swirled to life and drowned out everything else. My medical training took over, and I didn’t look up again until my patient, a Navy SEAL, was settled.
As I was leaving his room, I came face to face with the other SEAL who came in with my patient. This one was just as attractive as the one I’d worked on. I didn’t know what they put in the water those guys drank, but something about all that alpha male testosterone did it for me.
“Chief Jones?” I asked.
“Yes, sir.”
I crossed my arms. “I’m Dr. Ott. Your buddy is in a bad way. Can you tell me what happened to him?”
He stared at me, not giving me any information. Not that I expected any different. They sent these guys out on some crazy missions. Stuff the rest of us in the service, hell, the rest of the world, would never know about.
“How is he?” Chief Jones asked.
I sighed. “Well, you already know he’s in bad shape. He’s severely dehydrated, which may be the cause of the cardiac issues, but what’s really concerning me is the infection. He’s septic. The rounds he took to the side and outer thigh are mostly likely the culprit. Both rounds missed anything vital, but wherever he was after being shot was not a friendly environment. The wounds would’ve been cleaner if he’d been living in a pigsty.”
“So, he’s septic. What’s the prognosis?” he asked.
“Septic shock is a concern, and until we see some improvement, his condition is critical, but stable.”
“Can I see him?”
I nodded. “You might as well. You team guys are all the same. I wouldn’t be able to keep you out, anyway.”
I walked back to the ER. Ursula and the other staff members were going about their business, and I fell in step with them. I treated the incoming patients assigned to me, but I kept my eye on the vitals uploaded to the system for the septic SEAL.
He wasn’t the first SEAL I’d treated—far from it. During the months I’d spent forward deployed, several crossed my path. I searched the faces of every one of them, unable to help myself. That Trident triggered memories of the first guy I’d ever been attracted to, something I had kept to myself for years.
Carson Wilcox.
Being a Navy SEAL had been Carson’s dream. It was all he talked about during the tutoring sessions we had on the sly, so his brothers wouldn’t know he needed help.
Several years later, when I joined the Army, Mama made some comment about Carson and I always being two peas in the same pod. I didn’t know what she meant until she showed me a social media post that Carson’s mama had made. It was a bunch of photos from Carson’s graduation from boot camp. I remember staring at those photos and thinking how gorgeous he looked in his uniform. I also remember heading out of town that weekend, so I was far enough away from base to get screwed six ways from Sunday.
That was the last picture I’d ever seen of him, so I didn’t know if he’d made the teams or not. The dropout rate for BUD/S was astronomical, and I knew it was a long shot, but Carson was one determined guy.
If someone asked him to do something, he did it. It didn’t matter what it was. He kept going like the Energizer Bunny until it was done. I think that was what drew me to him. He was this crazy, unstoppable force. A beacon. A homing device. I didn’t know what it was about him, but anytime he was around, my focus zeroed in on him.
Not that I ever told him, or anyone else, for that matter. We’d grown up in a backwoods Appalachian town in the coal fields of West Virginia. A place where being a gay guy would get you your teeth knocked in, especially when you played football, and shared a locker room with a bunch of snuff-dipping, knuckle-dragging, good old boys.
So, I pushed all those thoughts and feelings down, shoving them into a tiny box in the corner of my mind, not letting them out again until I went away to college. I fucked my way through every gay guy I could, trying to burn the thought of Carson Wilcox out of my head.
It didn’t work. No matter how many guys I fucked, Carson was still there. I hadn’t seen him in a decade but he lived in my heart and mind every moment of every day. He would always be the guy by which I measured every other guy. He would always be the one who got away, and every time I saw a news article or a broadcast about a Navy SEAL, or the anything to do with the Navy really, Carson Wilcox’s face flashed through my mind like a wildfire through dry brush. So, yeah, I searched the faces of every SEAL that came through whatever hospital I was assigned to, looking for him. Praying for the chance to see him again, but I never found him.
Sighing, I looked up, and the clock caught my eye. It had been hours since the two SEALs came through the doors. Yet here I was, still obsessing over them.
Not them. Him.
I logged back into the network. The SEAL was doing okay. As was everyone else on the unit. My eyes traveled around until they lit on Ursula. She finished up her conversation with another nurse and came over to me.
“How’s the first shift going?” she asked.
“It’s going, but I’m going to need some caffeine if it’s going to keep going.”
“That’s a lot of goings.”
I nodded and asked, “Coffee?”
“Ahh, a real coffee drinker. My kinda guy. There’s decent coffee upstairs. It’s a pop-up thing in one of the waiting areas. Funnily enough, it’s on the same floor as the injured SEAL you seem fascinated with.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
She threw her head back and cackled. She patted my shoulder and said, “Bring me back a Mocha Latte.”
She disappeared back into the chaos of the ER. The influx of new patients slowed a while ago, but the nurses were still bombarded with work. Taking a quick head count, I headed toward the cafe, avoiding the main elevator.
When the doors slid open, I stepped inside, hoping I didn’t get lost on the way to the coffee shop Ursula pointed me to. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and shot off a text to my mother.
Roman
Did y’all make it in okay?
Mama
Yes. We’re here.
Roman
How’d Margot do on the plane?
Mama
Fine. It’s not the first time your daughter’s traveled, you know.
Sighing at her attitude, I rubbed my hand over the back of my head, hating the prickly feel of the shaved hair there. I’d wanted to make a good impression on Command here at LRMC, so I’d gotten it cut before hopping the flight from Bagram. Mama was right. Margot had flown several times in her short life. Why this one had me worried, I didn’t know. Maybe it was because, even though she had visited in whatever country I could get to for leave that was safe enough for her and Mama to travel to, they’d never lived outside the country. Neither of them knew the language nor had any friends here.
Hell, I didn’t even know anyone on base yet.
I was fucking lucky Mama agreed to bring Margot over when I’d gotten the assignment. It was a spur of the moment posting. One I hoped kept me from doing many more tours in a field hospital. I knew it was still likely, but a man could hope. I’d missed most of my daughter’s last year and I didn’t want to miss any more.
Mama
The house is nice.
Roman
Did you have any trouble getting there from the airport?
Mama
No. I had that app thing you put on this fancy phone you got me, but I didn’t need it. The cab driver spoke English.
Roman
Good. I’m glad. What’s Margot doing now?
Mama
She’s coloring. Do you want to talk to her?
Roman
Yes, but I don’t have the time at the moment.
Mama
When will you be home? And do you have a key?
Roman
Yes, I have a key, but I’m on the night shift so I won’t be home until the morning.
Mama
Okay. I’ll keep my phone on. Call when you’re heading home, so I know to watch for you.
Roman
Yes ma’am. Kiss my baby girl for me.
The elevator door dinged and slid open as I slipped my phone back into my pocket. I walked out into the hallway and followed my nose to the elixir of life. When I opened the door, my breath caught. On the other side of the room sat Carson Wilcox.
I chastised myself. There’s no damn way it’s him. Unable to help myself, I continued watching the guy as I skirted the room to what Ursula called the excellent coffee. I slowly ordered several cups of the stuff and snatched up a cup carrier.
The longer I watched him, the more certain I became he really was Carson Wilcox. He sat with several others. My eyes roved over them quickly before returning to Carson. They all had the same look. Tired, dirty, war-weary, yet poised to strike like a timber rattler coiled up rattling its tail.
It didn’t take much to realize they must be part of the SEAL Team the other two were on because there were only six of them sitting together.
I raised one of the cups of coffee to my lips and turned so I could look directly at him over the rim. It had to be him, but even if it wasn’t, that didn’t matter. Nearly a decade had passed since I last saw him, but realization cemented itself in my psyche, and I knew now, even more than I did then.
Carson Wilcox was the one.
He was the one who awakened the bi-curious side of me. To be honest, he’s the one who made me realize what everyone was going on and on about. I’d thought they’d all been lying or making shit up because I’d never felt anything like what all the guys on the football team talked about incessantly.
At least not until the day Carson showed up in the locker room, covered in sweat and looking like a fucking angel who fell from heaven.
“Oh! Hey, doc.”
I tore my eyes away from Carson, turning toward the voice that had called out. The septic SEAL’s buddy walked toward me, and the others all stood.
He stretched his hand out to me as he said, “Guys, this is Woody’s doctor.”
I grasped his hand, shaking it. My gaze still fixated on him.
“Not really,” I replied under my breath at the same time as another voice pierced the air.