6. Roman
CHAPTER 6
ROMAN
Twelve thousand days later, my shift ended, and I got busy rounding with the incoming trauma doc. Once I got him up to speed, I strode to the lounge and changed out of the scrubs I’d been in for nearly twenty-four hours for some regular clothes. I was ready for food, cuddles with my punkin, and a nap.
Carson
We still on?
Roman
How are you awake?
Carson
What do you mean?
Roman
It’s 0730 and I’m certain last night was the first night you’ve had in a bed in a while.
Carson
How do you know where I slept?
Busted.
Roman
Do you want food or not?
Carson
Hello! My name is Avoidance.
And is that even a question?
I feel like that shouldn’t be a question.
Roman
I forgot what a stubborn jerk you could be. Just tell me where to pick you up.
Carson
Still avoiding the question.
Where are you?
Roman
Uh. The hospital. I just got off shift.
Carson
I’ll meet you at the gate.
Roman
Just tell me where you are.
Carson
No worries. I’ll be at the guard shack.
He always had refused help of any kind, which was how I knew he was in trouble when he asked me to tutor him in high school. He’d been on the verge of failing when he finally broke down and came to me.
Those weeks we spent alone, just him and me, while I taught him how not to flunk algebra, were a godsend and a nightmare. I fought an erection the entire time, hiding it behind my textbook or backpack when we’d part ways. As soon as I got home, I bolted upstairs, barely holding off the orgasm I’d been on the verge of during our tutoring sessions.
Which was stupid crazy because it wasn’t like we touched or anything. He wasn’t even queer, but that didn’t matter to me or my dick. All that mattered was Carson Wilcox, and the way he chewed and sucked on his bottom lip until it was shiny and puffy, begging to be kissed.
And Jesus, did I want to kiss it, him. I wanted so much to pull him to me and devour him. It was all I thought about.
Then there were the noises he made. Dear God, listening to him was better than the porn I stole from my old man. First, there wasn’t a girl in sight, and second, the way he huffed and hummed was enough to make me dance in my chair. Once he got frustrated and groaned. A deep, even rumble vibrated through the air, and I bit through my tongue, trying to stay quiet while also trying not to come in my pants.
I wasn’t far from it now.
Dropping a hand to my lap, I adjusted my half-hard dick just as the guard shack came into view. As promised, Carson stood waiting just outside the gates. How he beat me there, I didn’t know, but there he was, nonetheless.
I studied him as I crept forward toward the guard shack, where the MPs were letting the cars ahead of me through. One by one, cars exited the base, and Carson came closer and closer. He leaned against the railing, his phone in his hand, looking deliciously sexy in his civvies. Uniformed men were hot, don’t get me wrong, but you get desensitized after a while when you’ve been deployed for nearly a year, like I had been. Seeing this man, the one I’ve lusted over for more than a decade, in civilian clothes, was dangerous.
Another sexy ass sailor filled my head for just a moment. Only Ice Man could overrule my Carson obsession. I shook my head to get Val Kilmer’s voice out of my head, and Carson popped right back in place.
He was perfect, but not too perfect. More like a decadent treat you wanted to inhale and savor all at once. Which made the urge to lick the man even stronger.
The car in front of me pulled through, and finally , it was my turn. Carson scrolled his phone, seemingly oblivious—it was an act, I knew—while the MPs did their thing. Getting on and off a military base was a pain. Sometimes, you got MPs who were lax, and sometimes you got the hardnosed ones. While the ease of movement with the more lax guards was nice, I appreciated the stringent behavior. It kept us all as safe as possible. Military installations were targets for terrorists on any given day. This methodical, careful behavior was put in place for a reason.
As the MPs let me through the gate, Carson stood upright, shoved his phone in his pocket, and opened the car door. That omniscience proved that his obliviousness was all an act. Like a ghillie suit camouflaged a sniper’s position, that lackadaisical behavior made him blend into the surroundings, giving passersby the mistaken perception he was harmless. When he was anything but.
Carson slid into the seat and said, “Hey, Doc.”
I nearly groaned at the greeting. Chocolate-covered gravel was how I’d describe the sleep-raspy sound. Sweet and rough. The stuff of wet dreams and, apparently, waking ones too. It was a sound I longed to hear first thing in the morning and the wee hours of the night.
“Morning,” I mumbled, trying to keep those thoughts to myself.
“Someone’s in a mood. But then again, you weren't ever a morning person.”
I grunted, and he laughed, and I swallowed a moan.
Carson Wilcox would be the death of me.
Clearing my throat, I apologized, “Sorry, it was a long shift.”
“No worries. We’ve all been there. Some missions suck big hairy donkey balls from the jump. I’m sure your shifts are the same. So, I get it.”
Tears rolled down my face as I gasped for breath, laughing at the imagery. He always did have a way of saying something so that it painted the craziest pictures in your head. I knew from experience that I’d laugh at that phrase for days on end.
“You alright?” he said, but his West Virginia accent made it sound more like “y’all right?”
I nodded, slowly settling my laughing fit down, only to lose it again when I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. He looked concerned and confused with that deep furrow between his brows and another creased across his forehead.
“What?” he asked.
Wiping my eyes, I breathed deeply and said, “That image.” I chuckled again but continued, “That one’s gonna stick for a bit.”
“You’re welcome.”
I pulled into the driveway for the rental I found for Mama, Margot, and me. It was partially furnished, which was good because my transfer orders came in while I was still in country at Bagram. My CO there was a decent guy, and let me know what was what.
I was pissed at first. I’d been deployed for nearly a year, and after being away from Margot for that long, I refused to spend my entire PCS on the other side of the northern hemisphere from my little girl. I’d missed enough of her life during this deployment. So, instead of flying out with the others who were rotating home, I flew to Germany. I had two weeks to get the lay of the land and find a place I knew Mama and Margot would like.
Knowing what they liked wasn’t the hard part; it was finding it. But I got lucky and stumbled across this row house. It didn’t have a front yard or a front porch, which I knew Mama would miss about our house in Virginia, but it did have a big, fenced backyard that gave Margot a place to play. If she needed room to roam, there was a playground nearby. It also had an enormous kitchen. I sent Mama and Margot pictures of the houses, and it was unanimous.
“Damn, dude. This place is a palace.”
I glanced over at Carson, and the sight of him sitting beside me in the car, in front of the house where my mother and daughter slept, was the stuff dreams were made of. I knew I was setting myself up for heartbreak. The man wasn’t gay, and even if he was, I had a child, and his career wasn’t family-friendly. Not to mention, the DADT and the UCMJ both frowned on gay relationships and fraternization between officers and enlisted men.
Shoving those desires and dreams, both old and new, away, I said, “Yeah. It’s too big, to be honest, but it was the only place I could find that was close to base and had the yard and kitchen Margot and Mama wanted.”
“How long have y’all been here?”
“I’ve been here a couple of weeks. I flew straight here from Bagram to get us settled. Yesterday was my first shift. I was just unlucky enough that my on-call rotation started the same day. Instead of going home and risking getting called back as soon as I was in the door, I just stayed put at the hospital. I didn’t wanna do that to Margot. She and Mama just got here yesterday.”
“Why the hell did you invite me? You’ve not seen your baby girl for what? A year?”
“Because you’re family, even if it’s been a decade since we’ve laid eyes on each other. Plus, Mama would tan my hide if I didn’t bring you home to see her. And I don’t know about you, but I remember all too well getting a switch taken to my rear end, and I have no desire for a repeat performance.”
“Fuck no. Your Mama whipped my ass that time we were caught swinging on grapevines over the river not long after it flooded. I didn’t sit for a week.”
“Oh, I remember. I’m surprised we weren’t all dizzy when she got done with us. It’s no telling how many circles she chased us in while holding one arm and swatting at us with the other. Anytime I do something she thinks is stupid, she reminds me of it.”
I scrubbed my hands over my face tiredly, then got out of the car. Carson followed suit, trailing behind me to the front door. I unlocked the door, pushed it open, and groaned for an entirely different reason when the smell of biscuits and gravy drifted toward me.
“Holy fuck, can I move in?” Carson whispered behind me, taking off his shoes without prompting.
I ignored his comment even though it was on the tip of my tongue to offer him my bed, but only if I got to share it with him.
I smirked at him. He remembered not to curse out loud where Mama could hear him.
“Hey, Mama. I’m home. And I have a guest.”
“Roman Ott! Who on earth are you dragging in here at the crack of dawn without givin’ me some kinda warning? I’m in my housecoat.”
“It’s just me, Mrs. Ott,” Carson called out as we stepped into her line of sight.
“Oh, my gracious!” Mama gasped and ran for him, bypassing her own son, who she’d not seen in a year, give or take a few days.
Carson always was her favorite. She doted on him when he and his brothers were at our house. I never knew why, but she always gave him extra attention.
As soon as she was close enough, he scooped her up in his arms and gave her a twirl before setting her back on her feet.
“My heavens, if you aren’t a sight for sore eyes, Carson Wilcox.”
“I can say the same for you, ma’am.”
“None of that, ma’am or Mrs. Ott nonsense. It’s Mama or Amelia if you’re not comfortable.”
I didn’t know if I imagined it, but his eyes seemed glassy, and his chin might have twitched. I would’ve sworn he was on the verge of tears.
“Mama, it is.” His voice was rock steady, his eyes dry as a bone.
“DADDY!”
I turned toward the screech coming from the top of the open staircase. Margot had paused several steps down just long enough for me to turn toward her voice. I barely got fully turned before she was airborne. My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach.
Fear froze me in place as I watched my darling little girl go flying when she took off at a sprint down the stairs. All the injuries she could sustain ran through my mind. In the background, I heard Mama scream Margot’s name, but everything else blurred as if someone had ordered everyone to speed up except me.
Finally, fucking finally, my feet unglued themselves from the floor, and I took a step toward her, but I would not make it in time with the sparkly tile over concrete floors. Severe injuries were definite, and death was probable, given the height she fell from.
At the last second, Carson, who was standing closest to the bottom of the steps, nabbed Margot out of the air, spinning her around like she was a plane and saying, “Whoa there, Amelia Earhart. Little girls gotta have a plane to fly. Whatcha think you are? A bird?”
She was giggling when he stood her on her feet, keeping a hold of her while she got her bearings. “Amelia’s my nana’s name. I’m Margot.”
Carson knelt in front of her, grasping her tiny hand in his. He brought it to his lips as he bowed over it and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Little Miss Ott.”
My daughter, the extra dramatic drama queen, had the audacity to curtsey to the man as she said, “Thank you, kind sir.”
I didn’t even know where she would’ve heard that, but Carson cracked up, and then scooped her up in his arms as he stood.