Chapter 2
Luke
Why is it whenever I run into Sloan Alexander, he’s only got half his clothes on … or less? His bare chest is covered in small crescent moons from the attractive woman’s nails and he looks like he’s gained twenty pounds of muscle since we last saw each other. Life’s cruel that way.
In the military, we were both lean and sinewy. As an avid runner, I maintained that body shape but Sloan seems to have gone a different direction. The only reason it matters is because if he decides I’ve overstayed my welcome, I won’t be able to fight him off.
I knew this wasn’t going to go over well. Honestly, I thought there’d be more blood and maybe a couple broken bones by this point, which is the real reason I waited until eight o’clock at night to show up on Sloan’s doorstep, unannounced, in my civilian clothes.
I don’t want to be here as much as he doesn’t want me here. Especially with this news. Although, I’ll admit I’m a little glad to see he’s somewhat moved on.
“I have a heart,” I fire back defensively.
“Yeah…a black one.” He takes another swig out of the bottle, his arm brushing against mine with the movement.
Sloan and I go way back. We went through basic training together and formed a pretty tight bond, but then he started spending more time with our C.O.
The favoritism showed in the chores he was assigned and the missions he was chosen for, and slowly, Sloan and I started to grow apart.
I never resented him. I resented our commanding officer for brainwashing Sloan and leading him down a depraved and dangerous path.
I was pissed that Grant Tomlin took my best friend away from me.
When Grant was killed in a training accident, I didn’t mourn his death the way the rest of the unit did and Sloan never forgave me.
Sloan was vocal about having no plans to make a career out of the Army like his old man. No, he was serving his four years to hold up his end of a deal he’d made with his parents: his time for their money. If Sloan served, his parents would help fund his band’s pipe dream.
Now, Sloan’s band, Beautiful Deceit, is the hottest rock band in the world.
But to me, he’ll always be Staff Sergeant Sloan Alexander.
A kind soul with a smile a mile wide and a personality that just made you feel at home.
And when you’re a thousand miles away from your family and your actual home, that’s a gift you don’t take for granted.
I, on the other hand, had aspirations to reach Major by the time I was thirty — which I did — and Colonel by forty — which I’ll do.
Although I’ve kissed a lot of figurative ass to get where I am, it was when I caught Sloan kissing literal ass that things between he and I passed the point of no return.
Unable to avoid the elephant in the room any longer, I open my mouth. Might as well get started if I have any hope of earning his forgiveness. “You know I didn’t rat you out to hurt you, right?”
“Bullshit. You were pissed I was getting promoted even though you knew I was out after four.”
I hate that he won’t look at me.
“Yeah, that’s partly true. But you were my best friend, Sloan. I didn’t know what the hell was going on, I just knew it wasn’t good.”
“Good?” he asks in total disgust, finally bringing his familiar hazel eyes to mine and leaning away from me. “You’re right, it wasn’t good. They were the best fucking thing that ever happened to me.”
I can’t help my flinch. For the first two and a half years of my time in the Army, Sloan was the best thing that happened to me.
Sloan saved me when things got dark. I thought I knew what I’d signed up for, but you can’t really know what it’s like until you’re in it and by then, you’re just trying to survive.
Sloan was the reason I survived.
“I miss him every day and it’s only getting worse.
A day doesn’t go by that I don’t think about the night it all went wrong…
because of you,” Sloan confesses, now clearly drunk if he’s willing to have a sentimental moment with me of all people.
He takes another pull from the bottle and I reach for it in an attempt to protect him from himself.
He starts to put up a fight but I cover his hand with mine to pry his fingers off the bottleneck and he finally relents, handing it over to me.
He looks at me with so much pain in his eyes it makes my lungs burn.
I’ve spent years trying to forget what I stumbled upon during that deployment, but it was the final straw that broke our friendship and oddly, I think of it almost every day too.
I honestly was not prepared for how cold it gets over here at night.
Sure, it may be ninety-four during the day, but it feels like twenty-four right now.
Our small base is quiet. The patrol is moving back in, but John and I were about thirty minutes ahead.
He went straight to bed, but Sloan wasn’t in our tent so I’m roaming around the base trying to find him to decompress from patrol like we usually do.
The big wigs are here visiting and I’m sure Lieutenant Colonel Mind-Your-Fucking-Business is already trying to get Sloan alone.
I pass by the mess tent, knowing he isn’t there. This is deployment. Meals are served at certain times. It’s not like there’s an all you can eat buffet in there twenty-four hours a day.
Next up is the base commander’s tent. Lights are off as they should be since it’s two in the morning.
I keep walking until I hear sounds coming from the back corner of the compound. Hearing strangled grunts, I pick up my pace. It could be one of our men in trouble. Hell, it could be Sloan in trouble since I can’t find him anywhere.
The shrubs are rustling just behind the low wall that separates our camp from the desert beyond.
I draw my weapon and quiet my steps, not wanting to startle the enemy.
When I come around the corner, I’m stunned.
As if the shock from almost shooting my best friend or my commanding officer at point-blank range wasn’t enough to make my mouth dry, I’ve just stumbled upon them in the throes of passion.
It wasn’t moans of distress I heard, they were moans of pleasure.
My C.O. is in the dirt on his knees, bending forward at the waist, his mouth stuffed full of Sloan’s cock as Sloan flexes his stomach so he can sit up just enough to watch. These two are so lost to each other, they didn’t even hear me approach.
“The fuck is going on here?”
Only when I speak does Grant Tomlin pull his mouth off my best friend and Sloan turn his eyes to me.
“Jesus, Blackwell, you really have a knack for terrible timing, don’t you?” Sloan asks, lacing his fingers together and placing them behind his head, dropping back in the dirt, not caring in the least that his dick is still hard and in plain sight.
His confidence and unapologetic nature have always been things I admired about my best friend but right now it’s hard to admire anything about him.
“Sergeant Blackwell, you will keep your mouth shut about this. That’s an order.”
“With all due respect, sir, which under these circumstances isn’t much, it appears it’s you that needs to learn to keep your mouth shut,” I fire back, too angry to care that I just sassed my C.O.
“Luke.” Sloan reprimands me, but Grant stays quiet because really, how’s he going to punish me for this?
“I wondered why you didn’t seem to care one of your own men was fucking your wife,” I sneer at the Lieutenant Colonel.
Turning my gaze back to Sloan, I let my disappointment show freely.
“And I never would have guessed you’d try to whore yourself out to climb the ranks since you don’t even plan to be in that long. ”
“Sergeant, you’re talking about something you don’t understand. And you’re way out of line.” That from Tomlin.
“I don’t think you even know where the line is… sir.”
I turn on my heel and go back to my tent to write down everything that just happened. We go home in six weeks. I’ll bring the allegations then.
I shake my head trying to clear the memory, but it doesn’t get any better when I glance back at Sloan.
Despite his money, fame, and musical success, he looks broken when he can’t use his humor as a shield.
Crumpled on the kitchen floor, his head lolling on his neck, he fights a drunken sleep that came on quickly thanks to the high-quality tequila.
I don’t know this man anymore, but serving time in the military forms bonds that are unshakable.
So, against my better judgment, and despite my own distaste for being this close to his naked torso, I push into a low squat, grab his arms in my right hand and pull his body across my shoulders, fireman-carry style.
He grunts, but doesn’t open his eyes or protest as I dump him unceremoniously on his couch.
I’m not tucking the asshole in for Christ’s sake, but at least he won’t have irreversible nerve damage from sleeping with his chin tucked into his chest all night.
The whole interaction rattled my cage, but oddly, the only thought I had on the ride home was that years later, and no longer on the battlefield, he still smells the same.
It isn’t until I pull back into my condo complex that I realize I never had him sign the fucking papers to receive what Hailey left for him.