Chapter 12
Daniel
A week later
Reed’s broad shoulders disappeared around the corner at the end of the corridor, and I broke into a run after him.
“Reed. Stop.”
He did not stop. I followed in his wake, syringe in hand, my white coat snapping behind me. The corridor was narrow, the overhead lights humming, and Reed’s boots hit the linoleum in heavy, rapid thuds that echoed off the walls.
“Catch him!” I shouted.
“No one dare!” Reed roared as the people lining the corridor flattened themselves against the walls as he came through, someone pressing into a doorframe to let him pass.
The smell of lunch drifted from the stairwell above us—Theo’s soup, something with garlic.
Reed thundered up the stairs and hit the cafeteria door with his shoulder.
It swung wide. Adrien, who had the misfortune of standing directly behind it with a full tray, executed a sideways lurch that sent his juice sliding but kept the tray level.
Reed said sorry but did not slow down. He cut around the long central table and put the full width of it between us, then turned and stared me down.
“No.”
I came to a panting stop. I held up the syringe. “Just one second.”
“Absolutely not.”
Reed pointed at me. “Call the cops. This man is assaulting me.”
Several people snickered. Theo leaned from behind the kitchen counter with his arms crossed. “No violence in my cafeteria, Doc.”
I rolled my eyes at the chef. He winked back.
Turning to my husband, I cajoled, “C’mon, Reed. You need this,” I said. “Tetanus can be fatal.”
“I choose death.”
Reed backed toward the far wall, keeping the table between us, his eyes on the syringe the way a man watched a live grenade. Two hundred and forty pounds of decorated military pilot, and he was edging toward the industrial sink like he thought he could fit behind it.
“If you let me do this, you’ll get a reward,” I said.
Viktor choked on his burger. “Ah, is this some kinda fucked-up foreplay?”
Laughter rang out in the cafeteria. My face felt warm. Sam looked equally red.
“Shut up, Viktor,” I grumbled.
Reed stopped moving, and his eyes shone with sudden interest. “Reward?” he asked.
I blew out a breath and reminded myself that I loved him. “Yes.”
“What kind of reward?”
“Kink negotiation lessons!” Viktor declared. “Today the famous duo, the one and only Waypoint Station power couple, will teach you—ouch.” Sam clapped a palm over his mouth, much to my eternal gratitude.
These past few days, Reed and I had been having so much sex that I was worried we would run out of lube.
We were insatiable for each other, both of us stealing kisses whenever we could, rutting against each other, fucking for hours, blowing each other in every possible location—my clinic, our cabin, the lounge late at night when I was on call, and once even outside our cabin’s front door because we couldn’t wait.
I didn’t recognize myself. And yet I was the happiest, most sated I had ever been. We slept like babies. His dark circles had disappeared, and I apparently smiled so often that I was starting to get teased about NASA swapping my body with a doppelganger.
“What reward?” Reed asked me again.
“You will like it. It’s a…” I cleared my throat. This was embarrassing as hell. “Surprise.”
“For my birthday today?” He lit up like a kid on Christmas.
I sighed. “Yes.”
“Are you just saying that…” He narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
“I have witnesses.” I turned. Theo raised his hand. “Daniel does have a surprise.”
Reed’s eyebrows climbed up. Garrett raised his hand from another table. “The doctor has big plans.”
Reed blinked. I was not a man to conduct surprises or public affairs, so I knew he was genuinely curious now.
“Okay.” He nodded, looking terrified. “Okay.”
I slowly advanced on him, keeping the syringe pointing down and away.
“Fuck. Fuck.” He stood rigid with his eyes shut, hands fisted. My poor husband. If he hadn’t cut his hand on a metal edge and I hadn’t discovered he had let his tetanus shot lapse, I would have preferred to spare him.
“I promise it will be over in a fraction of a second,” I said in my most soothing voice. I rolled down his jacket and shirt collar and quickly inserted the needle. “All done.”
Despite the whole cafeteria watching, I kissed his shoulder before pulling his sleeve back up. “I’m sorry,” I murmured, low enough for only him to hear.
He exhaled through his nose, a long, controlled breath, and his fisted hands slowly opened.
“You know,” Reed said, rolling his shoulder experimentally, “that was surprisingly not terrible.” He looked at me sideways. “Maybe if you helped me, I could actually get over this.”
“Of course.” I straightened his collar with two fingers and stepped back. “We would need to start a formal desensitization protocol—graduated exposure, incremental tolerance building.”
Reed stared at me for a moment. “You are so sexy when you talk like that.” He turned toward the serving counter. “Come on. Lunch.”
“You get started,” I said. “I need a word with Garrett first.”
He gave me a look but moved off toward the food. I waited until his back was turned, then crossed the cafeteria to where Garrett sat at the far table, his tray pushed to one side. I leaned down, and we had a brief exchange. Nobody at the surrounding tables looked up.
Next, I ducked behind the serving area. Theo appeared from around the corner, looked at me once, and jerked his head toward the back. We walked into the deeper parts of the galley, out of sight of the rest of the cafeteria.
A commercial refrigerator stood against the far wall, wide enough to walk into. Theo gripped it and pulled. Cold air rolled out across the floor in white plumes as he reached inside and carefully lifted out the cake.
The cake was enormous. It had to be to feed the entire station. Theo transferred it carefully on to the rolling cart. The cake occupied a full sheet pan with three tiers, frosted white with a border piped in dark chocolate, a small plane perched on top.
Theo had done something clever with the limited pantry—crushed cookie crumbles pressed into the sides, a drizzle of something dark across the top, and in the center, in clean block letters done with a steady hand and a piping bag, was the inscription.
I stared at it. My heart was going at a rate I would have flagged as clinically significant in any patient.
I pressed my palms against the front of my white coat and then did it again when they were damp a second later.
“How does it look?” Theo asked quietly.
“Good,” I said.
We stood behind the commercial refrigerator, backs against the cold metal, listening to the cafeteria on the other side.
The scrape of forks. The low overlap of conversations.
Someone laughing at the far end near the windows.
The lunch hour was at full pitch, every table occupied, trays covering every surface, the smell of soup and warm bread thick in the air.
Theo peered around the edge of the refrigerator and pulled back. “I think everyone’s sat down.”
I checked. He was right. The serving line had emptied. Every person in the station was seated, eating, talking, facing away from us.
“Okay,” I said.
I did not move.
Theo looked at me. A slow smile crossed his face. “Doctor Park.”
“I know.”
“In all the time I have known you, I have never seen you nervous.”
“I am not nervous.”
He laughed, low and quiet. “How about I walk out first? You follow me.”
“Yes. Good. That is a good plan.”
Theo walked out first, pushing the cart ahead of him, and I followed two steps behind.
The wheels on the cart had a slight squeak.
In the full noise of the lunch hour, it was nothing, but I heard it with extraordinary clarity as we came around the serving counter and turned down the center aisle between the long tables.
The first person to notice was Grant, who looked up mid-sentence and stopped talking.
The person next to him, his boyfriend Adrien, followed his gaze.
Then the next table turned. A low murmur started moving through the room ahead of the cart, heads turning in a wave, and someone at the far end said something that made three people spin in their seats.
Theo kept walking, steady, the cart rolling forward. Finally, someone tapped on Reed’s shoulder, and he turned. His eyes went to the cake first. Then they came to me. His face broke into a huge grin. This was why I was making myself go through this torture. For that smile. On that man.
He pointed at the cake. Then at himself. “Is that for me?”
I nodded.
The cafeteria broke into claps and hoots. Reed stood up from the bench and practically skipped over to us.
“Everyone,” I said, and the room quieted enough to hear me. “Today is my husband’s thirty-eighth birthday.” I looked around at the faces I had eaten with and worked beside and formed deep friendships with. “You have been my family. I wanted to celebrate him with all of you.”
I turned back to Reed. “Do you want to cut the cake?”
He was looking at the inscription.
To Bigfoot. From your Prince. Happy 38th.
He read it once, silently, and I watched his face move through rapidly cycling expressions. When he looked up, his eyes were bright. “This is the best birthday I have ever had,” Reed said. His voice was rough at the edges. “That shot was worth it.”
I laughed despite myself. He pulled me into his side with one heavy arm around my shoulders and held his other hand out to Theo, who placed the cutting knife in it, handle first. Reed looked down at the cake, holding me against him, and brought the knife to the surface.
The room erupted again, clapping and a ragged, half-singing attempt at “Happy Birthday.” Reed cut down through the frosting and lifted out a slice with his fingers. He turned to me and held it up between his thumb and forefinger.
I stiffened and felt my face go up in flames. I hadn’t expected this part. But Reed was waiting, his eyes full of happiness.
I leaned in, my eyes locked onto his, and slowly opened my mouth. He pressed the edge of the slice directly to my lips. I took my time, making sure to lick his fingers thoroughly as I pulled off. I was rewarded with his blue eyes dilating and his jaw going slack.
The cafeteria lost its mind. Whistles came from every direction, and Viktor said something in Russian.
Theo stepped forward and took the knife back from Reed’s hand and began cutting proper slices, setting them on the small plates, and someone came alongside him to start passing them down the tables.
Reed leaned down to my ear. “That was hot as hell.”
I ducked my head and studied my shoes.
“Come on,” he said. “You haven’t eaten anything. You’ve been running around all morning.”
I watched him go. I took a deep breath. Garrett, who had made the matching ring for Reed, met my eyes across the room and gave me one slow nod.
“Reed.”
He turned.
“Come back.” My voice came out steady despite my insides churning. “There is one more thing.”
He looked at me with the easy expression of a man who expected nothing, who thought the cake was everything, who had no idea what was about to happen.
“What is it?”
The cafeteria was still moving around us, plates passing, forks scraping, conversations running.
I dropped to one knee. Reed stared down at me. The room went silent a second time, or maybe that was just the blood pounding so loudly in my ears that I couldn’t hear a thing. I reached into my pocket and held out my hand.
“Daniel!” Reed yelped and scrambled back. “What the fuck?”
Oh shit. In my hand, I held the syringe. I felt my face go fully red as I shoved the syringe back and reached into the other pocket.
“Wrong pocket,” I said.
Laughter detonated across the room. Someone howled. I screwed my eyes shut in embarrassment, but my shoulders shook in silent laughter. My fingers found the box. I pulled it out and looked at Reed. He was still looking at me warily, like I was going to take out a black mamba next from my pocket.
I opened the box with my other hand, still down on one knee, and held it up for him. Inside sat a band identical to mine, simple metal, but durable.
“Come back here,” I pleaded.
Reed’s eyebrows rose high. “Is that… a damn ring?”
I nodded. He walked back until he was towering over me. His eyes were shining bright again.
“I’m sorry that I never got to do this the right way the first time,” I began, my voice tight and low.
“Shhh!” someone hushed, and the room quieted down. I could see people leaning, straining to hear.
“For all my life, I thought I was doing good. A good career, a good family, a good life. But then I met you. You lit a fire in my soul. Every moment with you was a lesson in living. Your laughter, your zeal, your courage, and above all, your ability to give me what I didn’t know I needed.
Reed Harmon, you are my landing zone, my wingman, my confidant, and the only man I would bet everything on.
” My voice shook so badly that I had to pause.
Reed’s face was an expressionless mask. He was always so open, but I knew when something hit really deep, he locked up.
“I don’t want to lose a single second away from you. Will you do me the honor of staying married to me?”
There was a moment of complete stillness from him, and then he exploded with a “Yes!” He lifted me off my feet and kissed me hard. The next few seconds were a blur. I think we were both laughing and crying simultaneously.
Somehow, I managed to get the ring onto his finger.
And there it would stay until our ends.
***
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