Chapter 21
Oli told the others on a Tuesday, like he was talking about the weather.
They were in the gym. They worked out most days of the week, depending on their individual schedules and whether they were shipping out anytime soon.
Right now, they were in between missions, meaning they’d just finished one that lasted three months, and were scheduled to leave again for another mission of similar length in about a month.
They needed to keep up their physical training regardless of mission schedules.
They hadn’t spoken privately since Aberlour had stormed out of Oliver’s house six days ago, but they were interacting as usual when it came to work.
Fortunately, they’d had very few meetings or moments when they needed to interact directly.
If the others noticed the tension between them, no one had been brave enough to ask about it yet.
Occasionally, Aberlour noticed Oliver staring at him, his gaze longing or begging for a chance.
Abe’s only response was to look the other way.
“Actually, I’ve been seeing this girl.”
Oliver was spotting Carlos on the bench when he first shared the news, causing Carlos to falter for a moment.
“You are?” He set the bar down and sat up.
His forehead was wet with sweat, and he quickly wiped it away with the bottom of his shirt.
It wasn’t unusual for Carlos to ask all kinds of nosey questions while they were working out.
But when he’d started asking Oliver questions about his love life, he clearly hadn’t expected an answer.
“Yeah. She’s the daughter of a friend of the family,” he explained, looking at his shoes. He wasn’t smiling. There was no hint of joy or pleasure.
Aberlour couldn’t find it in him to enjoy his distress. He just stood there and listened to their chatter, curious as to how Oli was going to handle the team’s inevitable interrogation of him.
“You guys been out a lot?” Marcus asked. He was standing by the rack of weights, having just finished some reps to build his triceps, doing his workout in front of the mirror.
“A few times. She lives near my parents, but she might come up before we ship out,” he added with a shrug. “Maybe we could go out, get a few beers. You could meet her,” he said, sounding uncertain.
Oliver was usually a leader. He called a lot of shots, made countless decisions. Right now, though, he looked more like a kid than a military leader.
“Meeting Darling’s girl,” Carlos said, with a laugh. “Sounds like a hoot.”
“I’m in,” JD said, between pull-ups.
Ghost hummed agreement from across the room.
“Of course, we’ll meet her,” Marcus said, like it was a given, but when Aberlour turned, he was staring straight at him rather than at Oli.
“Has Dumber met her?” he asked, playing na?ve, but obviously wanting to ask more than just one question.
“No,” Abe replied, quickly. “But I knew about her.” He forced himself to smile casually.
Marcus frowned skeptically. He kept looking between them, like he might have missed something.
“Alright then, just holler, and we’ll be there,” he finally said, as if giving up on figuring out the real story about what was going on with Oliver and Aberlour, and this new mystery girl.
“Cool,” Oliver said. “You’ll like her. She’s nice.”
Aberlour didn’t comment. He dropped to the floor and started doing push-ups.
He refused to look up, afraid to let anyone see how he really felt.
He just kept going up and down, gritting his teeth against the pain as it became almost unbearable.
By the time he recovered and sat up, Oliver had moved on to another exercise, and the room was back to business.
No more was said about girlfriends and meetings, and yet Aberlour could feel the time for avoidance had passed.
The dust from Oliver’s announcement had settled.
The explosion no longer rocked him to his very core; instead, his rattled bones now felt hollow and void.
He needed—something. A clear mind. A confrontation.
One last look at Oliver’s blue gaze before he gave it all up.
The thought tasted bitter in his mouth. Giving it up. He’d never voluntarily given up anything, and now—now he had to let go of the one thing that meant the most to him? He felt sick at heart in a way he couldn’t even begin to describe.
He confronted Oliver that same afternoon. Desperation and anger pushed the words out.
“This is what you want?” Aberlour asked, knowing better than to ask, but feeling as if he had no choice, despite his awareness of failing to stand his ground.
This wasn’t really the right place to hold this kind of conversation. They were cleaning their guns, and any of the others could walk in, but Aberlour had endured this dead weight setting on his chest for hours, and it was killing him, bit by bit.
“No,” Oliver admitted, turning to look at Abe. It was hard to see him these days. The real him. The one who’d held Aberlour’s hand and talked about houses and children. He’d disappeared behind a mask of stoicism that Abe hadn’t known he was capable of. “But I have to.” He gave a helpless shrug.
Aberlour bit back his anger. If he lost it, Oli would shut down, and they’d go their separate ways again. He’d be just as confused and worried. Nothing would change. He needed to know what the fuck was going on, and that meant he had to keep control of himself.
“Why? What changed?”
Oliver put down the M4 he was cleaning and turned to Aberlour. He looked tired and rough from lack of sleep.
“My mother’s running for Congress. She needs help, and my brother—my brother fucked up, and it looks bad for the family.
She’s convinced this congressional leader to sponsor her, but only if one of her sons dated his daughter.
He wants his daughter to be linked with a prominent Alabama family so she can also run her own campaign in the future. She just finished law school.”
Oliver’s story was disjointed, so Aberlour had trouble putting all the pieces together.
He couldn’t help but notice that Oliver’s shoulders drooped, most likely from all that family pressure on them.
Aberlour struggled to empathize. It all sounded like a load of horseshit and, basically, a form of blackmail.
He didn’t care two cents for either one.
He’d heard this story before, of course.
Though Oli hadn’t looked quite so downtrodden then.
He’d been casual, almost offhanded, as he’d told Aberlour this little fucked up plan that his mother had cooked up while they lay together in bed.
At least now, Oliver looked—truly regretful when re-telling it.
“Whatever happened to refusing to follow the plan your parents made for you?” Aberlour fought to project a calm he was far from feeling.
He wanted to explode. Wanted to shoot Oli’s mom.
Wanted to have a fucking fit, but it wouldn’t get them anywhere.
So, he took a deep breath and waited for Oliver’s response to his question.
“I’m not,” Oliver said. “I’m just—” he sighed and shook his head. “I’m doing them a favour.”
Aberlour could tell he genuinely believed what he just said.
“A favour,” Aberlour repeatedly flatly, trying not to sound bitter but failing terribly.
“And where and how does this favour end? Are you going to marry her? Have kids? Is that—” he stopped to take a steadying breath, but his heart was hammering against his rib cage.
It wanted out. Want to be exposed for Oli to see.
Maybe then, Oli could fully understand exactly how much damage he’d done to Aberlour.
“Is that part of the favour?” he asked, daring to meet Oliver’s eyes for the first time.
Oli’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, unable to speak for a moment. He looked away from Aberlour as he said, “No. I won’t—they wouldn’t ask that.”
Aberlour nearly laughed. Very nearly, but he swallowed his mockery and nodded slowly, looking everywhere but at Oli, feeling like his chest was about to explode and his heart burst from the pain.
“It doesn’t have to change anything between us,” Oli rushed to add. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. We can still—” he paused, and gestured between them, as though unable to say the word.
Aberlour stared coldly and scoffed.
“Fuck?” Abe supplied, because apparently Oliver was incapable of saying it. He’d asked Aberlour for it. Had made plans for them both. Played house and poker with Abe’s heart, and now he couldn’t even say it.
“Right,” Oliver agreed with a quick glance at the door.
Aberlour’s gaze dropped to Oliver’s hands. It was hard to make sense of the past few weeks. Hard to understand how the man who’d once held his hand and confidently asked him where they would live and how many children they would have, could now barely stand to look him in the eye.
It was such a strange turn of events.
“Is that all it was?” Aberlour asked, directly challenging Oliver.
There were two possibilities. Aberlour knew what he wanted the answer to be. Oli could lie, or he could tell the truth. It had never occurred to Abe before that Oli might lie, but looking at him now, hesitating to respond, Abe wasn’t sure of anything. Not anymore.
“No,” Oliver admitted, staring at the floor. “Of course not,” he added, with a sigh that made it sound like perhaps he wished it had been nothing more.
So, Oli was not quite a total liar yet. How reassuring.
“But I can’t lose my family over this,” he added, with a decisive nod.
Then he looked up at Aberlour, his blue eyes filled with unnamed anguish and said, “Wouldn’t you have done the same for your mother?”
“No.” He wasn’t sure what Oliver had expected Aberlour to say, but going by his expression, that wasn’t it.
That single word hung in the air between them. Oliver’s scrutinized his face, as if searching for any doubt.
There was none.
Oliver sighed, as if resigned to his fate. “Just for now,” he said, after a while. “I’ll do this for my mother, and then—” he stopped, shook his head, and repeated, “just for now.”
“Just for now,” Aberlour echoed mockingly. “And when you’re done with this favour, you what? Expect me to come right back?”
Oli looked at him like he hadn’t quite gotten that far in figuring things out.
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Well, if you wanted,” he added, quickly.
“Like a good little bitch, right? At your beck and call?” Aberlour answered, the anger sneaking past his defenses.
They were no longer sitting. Both had risen to their feet at some point.
Oliver was a few feet away, one hand extended as if he wanted to touch Aberlour.
He didn’t. It was a godsend that he hadn’t, because Abe wasn’t sure he’d have been able to stand it.
Whether he’d have punched his way to freedom, or clutched Oli’s hand so hard he’d never be able to let go, was entirely uncertain.
That very uncertainty shook Aberlour to his core.
Oliver ran a hand through his hair. The dirty blond locks were once again thick and out of control. He’d gotten an official reprimand just that morning and had been ordered to get it cut. Abe had the fanciful thought that his hold on Oli would be gone right along with his shorn hair.
Oliver looked up at him, face open, expression vulnerable. “I know what I want Abe, I just—I have to put things on pause for a bit. Just for a little while.”
I know what I want, he’d said. Strangely enough, Oliver hadn’t been able to put words to what they were only a few minutes ago. What good was it knowing what you wanted if you weren’t willing to fight for it?
Aberlour felt like crying. He didn’t remember ever feeling this way other than the day he’d stood at the gravesites of his parents.
It had to be grief. That was the feeling lodged in his throat. He was beginning to grieve. Forced to give up everything he held dear, his heart clenched painfully.
“You ever care about what I want, Oli?” he asked, only too aware of the raw desperation in his voice.
“Of course,” he answered quickly. Too quickly, as he took a step forward, drawing closer to Abe.
“Then break it off,” Aberlour commanded without any hesitation. He hadn’t even known beforehand that he would actually say those words, but now that he had, he’d die taking a stand on this hill.
Before Oliver could reply, and before he could stop himself, he grabbed the back of Oliver’s neck.
His grasp was firm but gentle as his thumb brushed against the familiar skin.
“You know—I think I fell for you that day on the bus ride to bootcamp. You wanna know why, Darling? ‘Cause that kid was terrified, but fucking brave. I chose that guy to back me up, build a team, build a life. I chose him because I believed in him. Because I knew, no matter what the world threw at us, he’d fucking face it. That’s the guy I love.
But this guy,” he nodded towards Oliver, hoping the disdain on his face would be obvious and hurtful, “this asshole who’ll break those around him, so he won’t disappoint parents who’ll never be satisfied—I won’t love this guy.
I won’t stand for him. I don’t know him. ”
“That’s not fair,” Oliver replied, jerking away as if recoiling from a shot to the chest. “You can’t ask me to choose,” he said indignantly, like it was truly mind-blowing to him that Aberlour might ask him such a thing.
“I can and I am,” Aberlour said decisively. He closed the distance between them again, placing a hand on Oli’s shoulder. With another gentle squeeze, he looked deeply into Oliver’s gorgeous blue eyes that were swirling with emotion.
Ask me to drown in them, Aberlour thought. Ask me, and I will.
“I’d choose you over anything.” He bared his soul, with no thoughts of pride or restraint, just in case Oli didn’t already know.
Oli’s lips parted in shock, but he didn’t speak.
I was afraid you wouldn’t feel the same. Oli had once said.
“At least now you know how I feel, Oli,” he said, before he stepped away and walked out. He felt at peace for the first time in days. In bits and pieces, heartbroken, but at peace.
It didn’t last. Inner peace never did.