Epilogue
Epilogue
One year later
“Tanner!” a gravelly voice called out, bouncing off the walls of the shop, “You’ve got a visitor!”
Tanner paused to set down the Allen key in his right hand and straightened up, back muscles screaming as he attempted to stretch them.
A few feet away, Zion—his emotional support dog—raised his large black head from the ground. He’d been snoozing deeply, and his right eye drooped a little with lingering fatigue. He yawned, displaying a wicked set of pearly whites that would make shark proud, and stretched out his back legs. Tanner spared him a smile but gestured for him to settle back down. He wiped his greasy hands on his coveralls and turned to face Big Pete.
His boss was a gentle giant of a man with the mug of a bulldog and the heart of a Lab. He was an old friend of Jeff Delaney—yet another one——and he’d kindly taken Tanner on as a favour to Jeff. He’d only been on the job a few weeks, but they already got on like a house on fire.
“Visitor?” He never got visitors at work.
Pete shrugged and pointed behind him, where the extraordinarily handsome Lance Kingsley was standing there holding a familiar insulated black bag. He was looking around curiously, having never set foot in the aircraft repair shop before, but as soon as his gaze met Tanner’s, he smiled excitedly.
“Hey, you forgot your lunch,” he said, like Tanner hadn’t already put two-and-two together. Tanner snorted and smiled back at his boyfriend. Dressed in his usual work outfit—chinos and pinpoint Oxford shirt—Lance stood out like a sore thumb among all the workers in coveralls. Tanner suddenly wished they were alone so he could strip it all right off him. Fuck the packed lunch, he’d rather feast on Lance.
He whistled for Zion, knowing the large Lab-Chow mix would be glad to get a visit from his second dad. It had been Lance’s idea to get Tanner an emotional-support dog. At first, he’d flat-out refused. It had sounded so—needy. But then, while training for his certification, an engine had backfired while he’d been bent over in the cockpit of a helo, and his mind had been sent right back to flying in the sandbox and plummeting at startling speed towards the ground. It had taken 20 minutes of sitting in stone cold silence before he’d managed to claw his way back to reality, and by then, he’d managed to traumatise most of his colleagues and teachers. That night, Lance had enrolled him in a program that found veterans support animals. Six months later, as he’d been recovering from his last surgery, Zion had come into their life. Built like an M1 Abrams tank and fiercely loyal, Zion looked pretty damned intimidating but was really just a big ole marshmallow who worshipped his two dads. Adopting him was one of the best decisions Tanner had ever made. Second only to kissing Lance.
The large black dog now on his heels, Tanner closed the distance between him and Lance as he shared a glance with his boss.
“Pete, this is Lance, my boyfriend—Jeff’s stepson. Lance, this is my boss, Pete.” He reached for the bag in Lance’s hands. “Thanks—but you didn’t have to bring this all the way down here.” He felt bad that Lance had taken time out of his morning to do this for him.
Lance gave a chuckle as he crouched down to pet Zion and scratch behind his ears. The dog’s tail wagged frantically as he “talked” to Lance in his funny grumbly-growly language, as though he hadn’t seen Lance in years. In reality, he’d been snuggled next to him in bed only a couple hours ago.
“Yeah right, and let you go hungry and crabby with your coworkers,” Lance said, shaking his head as if that would have been an absolute disaster.
“Ha! He’s got you there! Kid sure does get hangry,” Pete agreed, extending a hand to Lance. “Pleasure to meet you. Jeff speaks highly of you.”
“Pleasure’s all mine, especially since you agreed to give this wildass a chance,” Lance replied, laying it on thick to annoy Tanner, as he rose and shook Pete’s hand.
“It’s really been a challenge,” Pete joked before punching Tanner’s shoulder amicably. “I’ll leave you boys to it, then,” he said, nodding at Lance once more before leaving them alone. Well, alone wasn’t the right word. They were still in the middle of the shop and Tanner’s colleagues were nearby, working and mostly minding their own business, only occasionally glancing in their direction.
“Sorry for barging in without calling you first. I planned to leave your lunch at reception, but your boss wouldn’t hear of it.” Lance sounded uncertain, wondering if he’d done the right thing.
“It’s no problem. Pete doesn’t mind when partners drop by,” Tanner said, shrugging. “Josh’s girlfriend hangs around all the time.” He gestured towards a guy a few feet away. Josh looked up at the mention of his name and gave them a quick smile before going back to work.
“Right, sure, it’s just—” Lance glanced around, looking uncomfortable. It took Tanner a second to figure out the problem, but when he did, he gave a wry laugh and shook his head.
“Lance, baby? Everybody here knows I’m that guy,” Tanner replied, grabbing one of Lance’s hands and squeezing it affectionately.
“That guy?” Lance asked with an amused smirk.
“Sure. The guy with a fucked-up leg, a service dog, and a hot boyfriend,” he replied with a waggle of his eyebrows.
“Say that to Dr. Carson at your next appointment, I double-dog dare you,” Lance said with a laugh. Tanner snorted because they both knew he wouldn’t be taking that bet.
Dr. Carson had worked some Grade A magic on Tanner, and while he wasn’t exactly back to his pre-helicopter crash mobility, he was far better off than he’d been, even before the incident with Lance’s father. It had taken seven different operations, multiple bone grafts taken from different parts of his body, including his pelvis and hip, along with some from those who had chosen to donate their bodies to medical science. All of that bone material had been used to complement Dr. Carson’s bone transport technique, which had involved removing the shattered pieces of Tanner’s leg and replacing them with healthier bone material. Within eight months, he’d been able to walk without crutches. Fortunately, he’d been so busy with classes and certification testing that the time had flown by. Now—he could stand on his own two feet while he pulled Lance to him for a quick kiss. The elation Tanner felt every time he did that was indescribable. The quick kiss turned into something more heated as he wrapped an arm around Lance’s waist, humming with pleasure at Lance’s eager response.
“The Sausage Festival was last week, dudes. Get a room, please,” Davidson said with a snort. The older mechanic was Tanner’s mentor and known for being easygoing and friendly. His comments were always made in good humor, so Tanner just laughed as he stepped back from Lance.
“Jealousy ain’t a good look on you,” Tanner responded as he maintained eye contact with Lance.
“Yeah, yeah,” Davidson replied with a chuckle. Tanner was too distracted by his boyfriend’s sky-blue gaze to locate Davidson, but he wasn’t too worried.
“Alright—” Lance said, smiling and looking more relaxed. “I’ll see you at home?”
“I’m counting the minutes.” Tanner winked, imagining the fun to be had when he stripped off those chinos and Oxford shirt later on.
“Oh God, gag me with a spoon!” Davidson muttered, and Tanner chucked one of his dirty rags in the general direction of his voice to shut him up. It just made Davidson laugh that much harder.
“We’re having dinner at my mom’s tonight, so try not to be too late,” Lance reminded him.
“Yes, sir!” Tanner gave him a mock salute since he’d already been reminded several times that day. They had dinner at Jeff and Harriette’s house at least once a month. Since the incident with his dad, Lance had felt it important that he attempt to mend his relationship with his mother, even if it was mostly for the benefit of his younger brothers. It was working well so far. While Harriette had once been ashamed of her son’s choice of a life partner, she now flew the Pride flag high and proud. Maybe a bit too high. Personally, Tanner thought putting an actual flag outside her house might be a step too far, but he didn’t tell her that. Not when Lance’s family life was stable for the first time in a long time.
“I promise,” he added solemnly, biting back a smile. “I’ll even wear something nice from your closet.”
Lance shoulder bumped him, gave Zion a few last pets goodbye, and walked out the door. Tanner watched him go, still amazed to find the sight of Lance’s ass and muscular back stirring the pot of his emotions. As though sensing his intense longing, Zion pressed his large head to Tanner’s thigh, and he took a minute to breathe in as he petted the dog calmly. The fur was soft and thick beneath his fingers, and it settled the whirlpool of emotions that lived so close to the surface inside Tanner’s body.
“Come on, bud,” he muttered with a sigh before returning to the task of repairing the high-performance engine from a Sikorsky S-76 helicopter. This was his new favorite to work on, as the S-76 was used in rescue missions like the ones he flew as an Army pilot. He still felt a little pang of something when he saw it, but it was mostly fondness and not the abject shock or terror anymore. Clearly, therapy had paid off—not that he’d ever tell Dr. Jones.
Carefully placing his left foot squarely on the floor with each step, he headed back to his work bench. He was getting stronger by the day, but he still had to be careful how he moved. Especially since the bones were still healing from the most recent graft.
It was even more important to be careful right then since his head was still swimming from that last smokin’ hot kiss with Lance.
Davidson wore a strange smile while standing next to the S-76 engine undergoing repairs. Shorter than Tanner by several inches, with a bushy moustache and beady little eyes, his mediocre looks did not match up at all with his superior intellect and friendly personality.
“What?” He wondered what Davidson’s smile meant.
“I’ve got to say—that’s a damned fine-looking guy. Kinda understand why you went gay for him,” Davidson said with a thoughtful frown.
Tanner smirked and flipped him off.
Davidson was as curious as a cat, so as soon as he’d heard that Tanner had hooked up with another man, he’d spent the next several hours asking him about all the mechanics , pun intended. It wasn’t like Tanner was the first gay man Davidson had encountered, but apparently going gay in your late twenties was odd. As soon as he heard Tanner and Lance’s story, he invited Tanner out for a beer after work so they could talk some more about how that came about. Much to Tanner’s surprise, half the shop had tagged along to hear the full story. And just like that—his anxieties about being in a gay relationship in such a male-dominated field disappeared.
“Hands off my man!” Tanner growled playfully, loving how that sounded as it echoed around the shop’s floor.
“Yeah right, that’ll be the day when I wake up with a taste for cock—no offense, kid,” Davidson replied, chuckling.
“Honestly though, I’m glad you took him off the market—with guys like him around, I ain’t got no game at all,” Simon whined from somewhere behind Tanner. Only 18 and barely out of high school, Simon was too young to be worrying about his game as far as Tanner was concerned, but didn’t point that out in case he hurt the kid’s feelings.
“Yeah, Tanner. Thanks for your service, buddy!” Jameson declared from the back of the shop in support of Simon’s statement.
Tanner nearly choked on his own saliva. Jesus Christ! Jameson’s expression of gratitude was one he’d heard many times over the years. But this time, it was made so completely out of the normal, everyday context in which he’d always heard it before that Tanner couldn’t help but laugh.
Two tours in the sandbox.
Three years as a POW.
Yet today, it was his taste for cock—as Davidson so elegantly put it—that he was getting thanked for. Oh, the fucking irony!
And as it always was these days, his first thought was that he couldn’t wait to tell Lance about this conversation and watch that beautiful smile spread across his handsome face as they laughed together. As Tanner picked up his Allen key and got back to work, he couldn’t help thinking that he’d do it all again—all of it—if it meant he’d end up right here.
And for the first time ever, he thanked himself for serving, for better or for worse.