13. Connor
CHAPTER 13
CONNOR
C oming to Spain had been an exercise in more culture shock than I’d anticipated. The buildings were different—more stucco walls and tile roofs than I’d ever seen in my life. The signs were different, from their shapes and colors to the words printed on them. Even having a meal in a restaurant wasn’t what I was used to thanks to the language barrier, knowing when a place would even be open, and when they were serving tapas versus dinner. The first couple of weeks had been overwhelming to say the least.
Returning to the now familiar world outside my house after the day I’d spent in bed with Alex felt a lot like those early days of fumbling and stumbling through an alien new world. It was like I’d been here before, but many years ago, and everything seemed just slightly different now. It reminded me of when I’d been down with the flu for a solid week during the last year of my marriage; re-emerging into the world had been almost as disorienting as the fever that had knocked me on my ass.
The drive from Sanlúcar to Rota had become as ordinary as the one I’d taken from my home in Virginia Beach to the base in Norfolk a million times. Today, it was like something out of a dream.
I knew why. Yesterday had been one of the hottest things I’d ever experienced, and coming back to earth after something like that left me off-balance and struggling to focus. I knew how and why I felt like this. The question was just… what now? Where did I go from here? Back on that hookup app? To another club? Just… stock up on lube and hope I didn’t actually develop tennis elbow? Ugh, I was a mess. An absolute?—
“Lieutenant Commander?”
I shook myself and looked up from the keyboard I’d been staring at. “Hmm?”
Leaning into my open doorway, HM2 Anderson studied me, a quizzical look on her face. “I just asked if you wanted some coffee.” She gestured over her shoulder. “I was heading to the breakroom to get some for myself.”
“Oh. Uh.” I blinked, then looked at the cup on my desk, which was not only empty—the dregs at the bottom were bone dry. “Coffee would be great, thanks.” I smiled sheepishly up at her as I handed over my cup. “I probably need it.”
“You said it, not me.”
I just rolled my eyes.
She laughed. “I’ll be right back.”
“Thanks, HM2.”
“Don’t mention it, sir.”
She left my office, and I covered my face with both hands. For fuck’s sake, I needed to get my head together.
Yesterday was a one-time thing. It shouldn’t have even been that much, but I’d never been that attracted to someone in my life—especially not someone who was also apparently that attracted to me.
I want you again.
Every time Alex crossed my mind—which he did constantly —that thought followed.
And every time, I’d run myself through all the very real and very non-negotiable reasons why yesterday was and had to be a one-time thing. Even that much had been a risk.
Worth it, though. So damn worth it. I could still feel everything we’d done, from my ass (which was a little sore, but not unpleasantly so) to that spot on my collarbone where his stubble had scraped just slightly.
Absolutely worth it, but not worth doing again. Not with what we’d both be risking. And hey, now I knew what it was like to sleep with a man, so at least I wouldn’t feel completely clueless with the next guy.
I don’t want the next guy. I want ? —
I pushed myself up from my chair and headed out of my office. HM2 was just coming back with my coffee, which I thanked her for profusely. Then I headed down the hall to get my stupid ass to work, both because it was my goddamned job, and because I couldn’t think of any other way to get Alex off my mind.
Yeah.
About that last part.
Every other patient, it seemed, needed to go up to Radiology, and every time I submitted an order, my mind went back to that gorgeous corpsman. He might not have even been there today—there were two radiology techs, plus their supervisor—but the department may as well have been renamed “Where That Guy With the Miraculous Mouth Works.”
I closed my eyes and exhaled as I paused outside my next patient’s door.
I want you again.
I did. I definitely did. But I couldn’t have him, and I needed to move past him.
This would pass. It had to. I’d had a relentless crush on my neighbor after I’d moved into an apartment when Aimee and I separated, and I’d gotten over that eventually. Yeah, I’d jerked off thinking about him, and I’d forgotten how to speak a few times in his presence, but eventually, I’d gotten it through my stupid skull that it wasn’t going to happen.
I’d get there with Alex, too.
Except Orlando and I had never hooked up. To my knowledge, he was straight, and he’d never reciprocated. It was a lot easier to move on from someone who I had absolutely zero chance with, especially when I knew they weren’t interested in me.
Alex…
I had the marks on my hips and the dull ache in my muscles to remind me just how much he reciprocated my desire.
I also had a job to do, and I pulled my head together enough to school my expression and step into the patient’s room. All through the appointment, I was attentive and did my job, which in this case meant referring a young Sailor for physical therapy on his knee.
“The MRI looks good,” I told him after reviewing the images he’d had done at a nearby Spanish hospital. “No tearing or anything like that.” I flashed him a quick smile. “A few weeks of physical therapy should resolve the pain.”
The kid sighed. “I’ve got the PRT coming up. And I need to pass it with flying colors because I need this promotion.”
“You’ll be able to make it up once you’re cleared for full duty.”
His shoulders sank, but he didn’t protest. I understood. The Physical Readiness Test was an important part of a service member’s score when they were up for a promotion. While being unable to participate due to medical reasons wasn’t supposed to affect their rating, I’d been around long enough to know that it absolutely could. If a command had two equally excellent Sailors, but one had to sit out the PRT due to illness or injury, the healthy one was going to get the higher rating. Guaranteed.
I studied the kid. “When is your command doing the PRT?”
He thought about it. “I think six weeks?”
Pursing my lips, I peered at the chart notes and MRIs again. “Are you allowed to use the stationary bike instead of running?”
He nodded.
“All right. Go straight to the physical therapy department after this to get your appointments set up. Give it a couple of weeks, then start carefully conditioning on the bike. Follow up with me weekly, stick to your physical therapy, and we’ll reassess a week or two before the PRT.” I inclined my head. “ Do not push yourself too hard, or you will hurt yourself enough to be on light duty with a PRT waiver for this PRT and the next one. Got it?”
Brightening, he nodded again. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. And if it starts to hurt more, come back in.”
“Okay. Okay, I will. Thank you again, sir.”
I made a few more notes in his chart, sent the referral through to physical therapy, and signed off on his light duty chit before sending him on his way. I was confident he’d be all right by the PRT. He’d sprained his knee, but it was relatively minor, and the stationary bike would be a good way for him to rehab it and be ready for the PRT. Well, as long as he didn’t overdo it, and I’d been a military physician long enough to know that was a distinct possibility. Twenty-something kids were immortal, and being in the military only made that worse.
Not that I’d learned any of that the hard way or anything, and I totally didn’t have the irritable knee and bitchy shoulder to show for it.
Though… my years of youthful immortality had very little to do with the aches and stiffness I was feeling today.
Annnd there went my brain, right back to the place it had been all fucking day.
“Get a grip,” I muttered to myself as I continued to the room where my next patient was waiting.
Throughout the day, I was such a mental trainwreck that I seriously considered seeing if Alex wanted to hook up again, consequences be damned. We could be discreet. We could be smart about it. As long as we didn’t get caught, who cared?
It also occurred to me around the time I was sitting down to lunch that we wouldn’t automatically get busted if we were seen together. If we were making out or getting handsy or something, sure. But if we were just talking in the hall or even out in public—the Navy couldn’t prove that was an “overly familiar” relationship.
The UCMJ was clear about fraternization between officers and enlisted, but the water could get a little murky when it came time to prove the fraternization was actually a problem. A violation of the custom of officers and enlisted staying apart? Yes. Knowingly disobeying a lawful order? Yes.
There was also, however, a part of the statute that required the prosecution to prove that the fraternization brought discredit on the Navy or was not prejudicial to good order and discipline. Alex and I weren’t in the same chain of command. We were under the same commanding officer, yes, and part of the same command, but we were in different departments. He wasn’t my subordinate. We could fuck each other senseless during our off time, and it would never have any impact on our jobs.
And if we weren’t doing anything out in public or at work, then there was nothing to bring discredit on the Navy.
But I was just gaslighting myself if I thought any of that would keep us from losing our careers and benefits. There was no way in hell our courts-martial would land in front of judges who would decide, “Nah, these two banging when they’re off the clock isn’t hurting anyone or making the Navy look bad. We’ll let it slide.” Never in a million years. It wouldn’t happen with a straight couple, and it sure as shit wouldn’t with a same-sex one.
Absolute best-case scenario? The Navy would force me to retire with my full benefits because that was less headache than prosecuting me when I was already eligible for retirement. I’d seen plenty of people force-retired for offenses that would’ve had them hemmed up to hell and back if they’d still had a few years left.
Alex wouldn’t be so lucky. He could go to Captain’s Mast, get stripped down to E-5, and then booted out because of high-year tenure; an E-5 had to make E-6 by a certain point in their career, and though I didn’t know all the particulars of Alex’s career, I was pretty sure he was past that point. They could kick him out as an E-5, and while he might keep his VA benefits if the CO was feeling generous, he’d lose his pension.
If we got caught, I might get lucky and escape somewhat unscathed, but no matter what, Alex would be fucked.
And that was the best -case scenario.
The thought sobered me right up. Yes, I wanted him, but the last thing in the world I wanted was to be the reason he lost everything he’d worked so hard for.
Footsteps jarred me out of my thoughts, and I looked up just as HM2 Anderson came into my office, a stack of folders in her hand. She paused and tilted her head. “You all right, sir?”
No, I wasn’t, but the “sir” at the end of her question was a stark reminder of why I couldn’t confide in her or even admit that I was struggling today.
Officer. Enlisted. Couldn’t be too familiar. Couldn’t be too friendly.
Couldn’t fraternize.
“I’m fine, HM2.” I smiled despite my somersaulting stomach. “Just tired from the weekend.”
“I know that feeling.” She handed over the stack of charts. “I just need you to sign off on some things when you have a chance.”
I glanced at them; mostly prescription renewals, which required more brainpower than I currently possessed, but I’d find a way. “Thanks, HM2. I’ll get them done by EOD.”
She nodded and left my office again. As soon as I was alone, I dropped my military bearing. I slouched back in my chair and swore into the silence.
I should’ve felt a million times better after finally getting laid.
But all I could think about was the man I couldn’t have, and I was a goddamned mess.