Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
FIVE FUCKING MINUTES LATER, Sully was full of fucking regret.
Bouncing around in a sidecar attached to a metal death trap as it barreled along at high speeds was definitely considered unsafe when your entire body was exposed to the elements.
He tried closing his eyes, except that was even worse.
Then he couldn’t see the million ways they might die, and Elliot—Stone, damn it—had the nerve to feel exuberant.
Exuberant. He’s fucking thrilled.
The sensation bubbled over Sully’s skin like fizzing soda.
How dare that bastard enjoy this?
If Sully was in control at all, it might not be so bad.
As a passenger, he hated it with every single part of his motion-sick body.
If they made it all the way to their destination without Sully losing the meager contents of his stomach all over the road, it’d be a miracle.
Cursing every time he was jolted, Sully shot daggers with his eyes that Stone failed completely to notice, his full attention being on where they were going.
Which, all things said, was a good thing.
Even though it irrationally made Sully angrier.
Plus he was freezing his balls off. The wool uniform and jacket he wore, while stifling in warmer weather, failed completely when ice cold wind was blasting him all over. His fingers were practically about to fall off in his olive wool gloves.
The only highlight to this awful trip was that the pressure on the dam in his head gradually decreased the farther they drove until it was hardly even a blip, and finally, it melted away completely.
By the time they reached Fienvillers, it was stretching into the afternoon. Every muscle in Sully’s body was cramped with tension. He clambered awkwardly from the sidecar and stood on shaky legs, relieved and slightly faint. Bell and Stone exchanged amused glances that incensed him further.
“All right?” she asked, patting at the wild strands of her dark hair that had come loose as she removed her leather cap; he didn’t think there was any hope of salvaging it. Sully probably looked even worse for wear and wouldn’t be surprised if he was pale as fresh snow.
He narrowed his eyes. “Yeah. Peachy. You both always drive like maniacs or was that special just for me?”
The two of them chuckled. Sully’s stomach warmed at the sound of Stone’s deep laugh. Why were his reactions to Stone so intense? Why the hell was Sully so fixated on him after all this time? They’d had one night of desperate, clinging, toe-curling, mind-blowing sex, that was all. One.
The vivid sensation of Elliot moving inside him, their foreheads pressed together hit Sully square in the gut. And then that hardly even a kiss before they left camp, the way his pulse raced when their mouths met…
Sully rapidly doused those thoughts before he embarrassed himself. Okay, before he embarrassed himself more.
“You’ll get used to it,” Stone said with a blinding smile. The ride apparently having relaxed him. “It’s much more enjoyable when you’re driving.”
Sully didn’t doubt that. “Right.” He grabbed his kit bag and rifle. “Now what?”
“We’ll introduce you to the team and get you settled,” Stone said, lacing his fingers behind his back and stretching his arms. The muscles more defined than Sully remembered them. Much more defined.
Jesus, stop looking.
“Let you recover,” Bell added, then sent him a teasing smile. “Feed you once you stop being quite so violently green.”
The house was a decent size made of white stone with a sloping tile roof dusted in the lightest coating of powdery snow.
The plain rectangle windows were framed with faded wooden shutters that might have once been stained dark, it was hard to guess what color they were originally meant to be.
Time and lack of care had transformed them into a dull sort of gray, on the verge of falling right off.
Woodsmoke from the chimney and fresh winter air mingled. Sully tried not to make a show of inhaling it. God, it was good to be away from the horrible smells. You got used to it, but now that he was out here, he didn’t know how he’d ever stood it.
They brought him inside where three men were sitting around a worn wooden table, playing cards.
Two of them were French Army, their light blue uniforms said as much, though the state of them was deplorable.
Buttons undone, jackets left open, hats absent—things Sully would’ve been reprimanded for.
The other one was in much the same state, though he was an American, his olive drab jacket also hung wide.
The dark bristles thick on his unshaved cheeks and jaw added to his rugged appearance.
“I see you’ve made yourselves useful in our absence,” Stone said haughtily.
Two of the men laughed, the pale American and the dark-skinned Frenchman.
The other Frenchman, still summer tanned, shrugged; his eyes remained determinedly on his cards, refusing to so much as look at them.
Light brown hair fell over his forehead.
His shoulders were tense and a sad sort of anger emanated from him, knotting Sully’s stomach.
What’s his story?
The friendly Frenchman smiled brightly at them, his deep brown eyes dancing. “A little rest and recuperation never hurt no one.” He had an American accent, something slightly southern that wasn’t quite masked by hints of a French one. “This must be our new recruit, no?”
Sully smiled. He liked the warmth the man exuded. “Corporal Warren Sullivan. You can call me Sully, everyone does. Good to meet you.”
“Caporal Léon Remonet. Likewise. That grumpy fuck is Lieutenant Charlie Hoffman,” he pointed the second man who’d laughed.
Certainly not the one Sully would’ve pegged as the grumpy one, but he did have a reserved air about him.
They exchanged polite nods. “And our Frenchest member over here is Sargent Michel Charbonneau.” Light brown eyes glanced flatly up at him, then dropped to the cards again.
He rearranged them as if he wanted nothing more than to play a game, but Sully sensed a roiling resentment that almost knocked him off his feet.
He couldn’t grasp why since they’d never even met before.
Looking to Stone for guidance, Sully hated that he felt the insecure need to seek him out.
Stone met his eyes, then returned his gaze to Charbonneau. He paused, grimacing as if he knew he was about to push a boundary and would rather be doing anything else. “Right. I suppose you’re busy, so I’ll just show Sullivan up to—”
Charbonneau’s chair scraped across the wood floor and crashed backwards as he vaulted to his feet.
“Tu fais chier! I’ll not share a bed with him.
It’s a large enough house, put him somewhere else.
Put him with you or in the kitchen for all I care.
Ol—Swift is hardly cold in the ground, and you think he can be replaced so easily?
Well, I do not. And I cannot bear to spend every second reminded by—by—”
Remonet’s hand landed on his shoulder and he murmured something that seemed to deflate Charbonneau’s fury enough that he stormed from the room, stomping out the front door and slamming it behind himself.
You could’ve heard a pin drop when he left.
Sully’s recently loosened grip on grief let him feel the full force of Charbonneau’s mourning and he ached with it in a way he wasn’t even certain he still remembered how to.
Guess I’m not permanently numb after all. Don’t know whether or not to be glad of it.
“Crap,” Hoffman muttered. “That was…something.”
“He’s,” Remonet began to say, then frowned in the direction Charbonneau had stalked off in before addressing Stone. “I’ll talk to him.”
Stone nodded; his lips pressed together in a thin line. Remonet followed Charbonneau, and Stone sighed. “Fuck, that could’ve gone better.”
Sully rubbed at the remaining ache in his chest. “What now?”
Elliot’s expression was tense, a clear plea in his eyes. “You can’t room with Bell, and there are only four rooms. Her, Charbonneau, Hoffman and Remonet, and er, mine.”
“So, you want me to room with you?” Sully thought he might rather the kitchen.
If he hadn’t felt the eviscerating grief, despair, and fury from Charbonneau, he would have wondered if the whole scene was planned.
Exactly how long ago had the man he was replacing been killed?
Did Stone even have time to think of the consequences to Sully’s presence here?
The uncomfortable panicking he was doing while anticipating Sully’s reaction spoke volumes.
There wasn’t another choice, not without making it obvious to everyone in the room he had issues with Stone.
That would raise more questions than either of them was prepared to answer.
“Guess if you don’t mind, I don’t have a problem with it.
Never been in an officer’s quarters before. ”
Hoffman choked out a laugh and Bell echoed him. Stone gave Sully a wry smile. “Ah, shall I show you the height of luxury then?”
Sully shifted his pack on his shoulder and pretended his stomach didn’t flutter at the prospect of being alone with Stone. This was ridiculous. He was ridiculous . He was not happy to have Stone to himself, damn it. He wasn’t happy to be with him at all.
Even as he thought it, Sully knew he was lying to himself. Still didn’t like it. He wasn’t remotely ready to move on. He had a right to be mad. Whether his pesky body perked up at Stone’s voice or not was beside the point.