5. Carson
CHAPTER 5
CARSON
I watched him walk away and sighed at the sight of him disappearing through the door to the stairs. I still couldn’t believe I’d stumbled onto Roman Ott in freaking Germany, of all places, especially at a military installation. He’d not been keen on the idea of me joining when I told him about it back in high school.
Standing, I made my way back to the waiting room, where I left the team. Halfway there, my phone dinged. I pulled it out and smiled.
Roman
It was great seeing you. Don’t forget to let me know if you can meet up tomorrow.
Carson
Heading back to the waiting room now.
We should know something soon.
The brass isn’t gonna let us twiddle our thumbs for long.
I’m hoping they put us back on leave, but I’m doubting it.
Roman
From what I know of the teams, y’all don’t get a lot of downtime. Talk soon.
Even though he gave me his number, I didn’t think he really meant to keep in touch. I was glad to see I was mistaken. Because while I couldn’t have what I once dreamed of, it would be nice to have Roman as a friend again. I had very few of those outside the teams. Well, if none were a few. Relationships of any kind were difficult when you were a team guy.
I loved my team. The guys were cool as fuck, but we lived in each other’s pockets, and sometimes it was just too much. When we were stateside, all the paired-off guys, headed home to their families and tried to make up for lost time while the single guys, like me, had shit to do. Most of the single guys took off to the strip clubs and bars to drown themselves in “beer and pussy” as Finlay put it. I didn’t see the appeal. But then again, I didn’t have those urges.
Not unless Roman Ott was around, apparently.
Just thinking about him got my engines revving, but the feel of him in my arms and against my body… was fucking mind-blowing.
And better than I ever imagined as a teenager.
His tall, broad body had surrounded mine. He was taller than me by a lot, and broader, but not by much. When he gathered me into his arms, it took everything in me to keep from burying my nose in his neck. It wasn’t like I needed to. His scent filled my nose, overpowering everything else, including the antiseptic smell of the hospital.
“There you are.”
Glancing up, Finlay Ryan stood in the doorway to the waiting room.
“Yep. Here I am.”
“You hungry?” he asked.
It was a stupid question. I was always hungry. We burned through calories like Olympic swimmers when we trained, and it was even worse during missions. Adam’s rescue was no different. We’d grabbed some chow at the mess back in Afghanistan when we grabbed our gear, but that was the last time I ate.
“Absolutely. What’s the plan?”
“Foster is sending me out to get something.”
Unless they admitted us, we avoided the food in the hospital at all costs. Even then, the others sneaked food in for us. The cafeteria tried, but it was still hospital food.
“Where are you heading?”
“That place we all like that has wings and sandwiches. We ordered a bunch of shite, but if you’d like something special, just call it in, and I’ll pick it up.”
“Thanks, man. As long as there’s enough, I don’t need anything special.”
I pulled out my wallet, but he waved me off.
“Keep your cash, Poindexter. Foster says we’ll be here for at least another twenty-four, so you can get me back.”
I nodded, and he took off down the hallway. Finlay was a great guy: A lot loud, unapologetically brash, and a self-proclaimed ladies’ man, but he was a team guy, and that was what mattered to me. Even if he did call Poindexter.
We were all knuckle-dragging door-kickers, but Finlay was far and away the worst of us. He trained when required and didn’t do much else other than chase tail, which was fine as long as he covered my six down range.
Unlike Finlay and the singles who partied their asses off, I spent my downtime reading or learning whatever language tickled my fancy. I held qualifications in varying degrees for more than six languages, and I took college classes whenever we were on a training rotation. Sometimes, I got lucky and didn’t get spun up, and others not so much, but I finally finished my undergrad coursework a few months ago.
I’d tried to keep it under wraps, but when you lived in each other’s pockets, shit like that didn’t stay quiet for long. Hence the name Poindexter.
“Finlay just left to get food,” Foster called out when I walked into the waiting room.
“I ran into him. He said we’re staying put.”
I sat beside him. Eric, James, and Alex were at the table across the room playing cards. It seemed like they’d been at it awhile. Eric’s leg bounced under the table, and James’ shoulders were drawn up to his ears as he hunched forward over his cards. A shit-eating grin pulled Alex’s mouth wide. He’d make a mint as a toothpaste model with his perfectly straight, blindingly-white teeth.
Shaking my head at them and the impending scuffle coming, I looked around for Brock. Not seeing him, I asked Foster, “Where’s Brock?”
Foster murmured, “Right where he should be.”
I nodded. Comments like that made me question the path I took to get here. Well, not how I got here but whether that path was necessary given the team I’d lucked into. It was a risk—a huge one, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to step away from what I knew and see if I could find something more.
“You okay? You’re quiet.”
I glanced around the room. The only ones in the room were those of us on Alpha Team. Turning toward him, I whispered so quietly that I wasn’t sure if he actually heard me.
“Yeah. Just pondering the why and how of how I got here. If that makes any sense.”
Foster’s head bounced in acknowledgment or agreement; I didn’t know, but that was all I got. It wasn’t like I was expecting some huge, deep conversation about the shit that ping-ponged around in my head, but something more than a nod might have been nice.
“I’m not looking forward to sleeping in these chairs. Normally, Adam makes those arrangements. Think you can arrange some lodging for us?”
“Sure thing, boss.”
Foster shoved to his feet and walked toward the coffeemaker. “Good. I’m going to lean on you a bit until one or both of them are back.”
Shock pushed my head back on my shoulders with the same force as if I’d been smacked. I wasn’t low man on the totem pole, but I’d been with the team for the least amount of time. When I opened my mouth to question him, he chuckled.
“Can you image Finlay Ryan as my 2IC? He’d lose his shit and blow something up.”
I cracked up only to snort when a chorus of protests from James, Eric, and Alex echoed through the room.
“Fuck that, I want a transfer if Ryan’s taking over 2IC.”
“God help the world when Finlay’s in charge.”
“No. Fuck no. Absolutely not.”
Foster leveled a gaze at me as he pulled his phone from his pocket when it dinged. I waved him off as I tried to get the Porky the Pig show under control.
“When you get a grip, get us some rooms. I’m not sleeping in those goddamn chairs if I don’t have to.”
“Is Adam off the critical list?” I asked between gasps and swipes on my phone for the rooms he requested.
“He’s inching there. The fever is coming down, and the infection is responding to treatment, so his BP and heart rate are doing better,” Foster replied, more engrossed in his phone than my questions.
He wasn’t being rude. Probably just trying to catch up with his wife and kids.
When the brass put us on leave while they searched for Adam, Foster and his wife, Julie, invited the whole team to visit the Holt Family ranch in Texas. His dad, Admiral Holt, even sent the family’s private jet. I thought it was a charter until I reached the tarmac and noticed “HOLT” emblazoned on the private plane.
Talk about a life I’d never live. Trip would really lose his shit if he knew I’d flown on a luxury private plane. The thought about Trip made me think of Roman, the honorary Wilcox boy when we were teens. I flipped to my texts and shot off a couple of texts to him.
Carson
Here’s the update you asked for.
The brass decided we’re staying put for a bit.
I went back to searching for a hotel for six, possibly seven, guys while I waited for a reply. I didn’t have to wait long.
Roman
That’s great. Where are you guys staying tonight?
Carson
Hopefully, a hotel. If not, the hospital. We don’t wanna go far with Adam still listed as critical.
Roman
Understandable. If y’all end up staying, let me know, and I’ll see if we can scrounge up an on-call room with some cots. It won’t be comfortable, and you might have to sleep in shifts, but I’d say you’re used to that.
Carson
More than.
Can’t be worse than the enlisted bunks when we’ve gotten stuck hitching a ride with the fleet.
Or worse, when we’re stuck on a sub.
Roman
That sounds awful and makes me glad I went Army and not Navy.
Okay. I gotta get back at it. I’ll text you when my shift is over, and we can head to the house together. Mama will be happy to have another mouth to feed. And you’ll get to meet Margot.
Carson
Sounds good.
I was still blown away that Roman Ott was not only a doctor, but an Army doctor with a kiddo.
And divorced.
Couldn’t forget that.
At least, that meant I wasn’t lusting after a married man.
Not that I would ever tell him I lusted after him. If that is indeed what was going on with my body. I scoffed, then tried to cover it with a cough, but Foster’s raised brow told me I didn’t succeed.
Oh well.
My mind spun with this new development, or really this new old development. The thoughts swirled together faster and faster, blending and merging, recreating themselves from one thought to the next, over and over.
All of them were the same. They all starred Roman Ott and his big strong body and the feel of it against mine. Coming home was the only way to describe it. He was my past and what I remember longing for in the future as a teenage boy.
But then he was gone, and I was left behind. At first, I thought that he’d awakened me sexually, but the butterflies in my stomach and the heaviness between my legs disappeared with him. As did the mornings I woke up with my cock standing at attention, or worse when an orgasm pulled me from sleep, and the only thing keeping me from screaming his name was the lack of oxygen from gasping through my release.
And they never returned.
The lust.
The desire.
The need and want.
They were all gone.
Evaporated into the ether, like fog under the harsh light of the sun’s morning rays, leaving me a celibate man too afraid to speak to anyone about my impotence. I just dealt with it. Ignored it was probably a better term. The lack of sex wasn’t the issue that worried me. At least not much. It was living life alone from birth to death, with only my family and the teams to share it with.
Now, ten years later, the issue had done an about-face, and my cock, which I would’ve sworn didn’t work the same as every other man’s on the planet, had come alive with a vengeance at the reappearance of Roman Ott. All those thoughts and feelings, the need and want, roared to life like an angry lion. Thank God it couldn’t actually roar. Tenting my pants was bad enough.
“You got us a place to sleep yet?” Foster asked, his voice nearly drowned out by Finlay’s loud mouth yelling, “Food’s here.”
I headed toward the table Finlay was dumping takeout containers onto as I called the hotel I’d found. Luckily, they had three rooms available and agreed to push a cot into one of them if necessary.
“We’re in luck. We get beds and pillows tonight. Oh, and a hot shower.”
Applause and praise filled the air, and my thoughts from earlier and the feeling that triggered them settled back into whatever box my subconscious shoved them into on the day I said goodbye to Roman Ott as a teen. This time, though, the flashing marquee with the words “I’m Gay” refused to go out. They refused to be denied.
The problem was, I didn’t know if I could embrace them, and not just because of the military. Every time my mind’s eye flickered toward that flashing sign that refused to be ignored, I heard the voices of my family echoing through my head.
“Carson? Are you okay?”
My vision sharpened at the sound of my name, and I replied quickly, like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. “What?”
“You were staring off into space while your food got cold.”
“I’m good. Just looking forward to a hot shower and an actual bed.”
The sounds of agreement were muffled as my teammates started shoveling food into their mouths.
Picking up my fork, I pushed aside all the negativity and fear at the revelations that kept coming at me and began eating. I looked around at my adopted brothers, those forged in battle, not by birth. The ones who embraced two of our buddies when their relationship came to light.
Would they do the same for me, or would that be too much too soon?
Who knows?
Maybe I’m putting the cart before the horse. The reaction to seeing Roman could be a one-off leftover from my secret teenage crush.
Right?