Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 86556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
It’s just people, he reminded himself as he grabbed the bottle of wine he’d picked up at the chi-chi organic place, even as his pulse raced. Screw the encounter with Curly—this upcoming excursion was every bit as nerve-racking.
“Well, fancy meeting you here.” Dustin jogged up right as Wes turned the corner back to the big house that might as well be a live explosive.
“Idiot.” Wes grumbled, shoving his hands deep in his pocket to keep from hugging him. Later. Later, they’d have the privacy needed for an embrace. Later, they’d have the few stolen hours that Wes lived for these days.
Like him, Dustin was dressed up in charcoal pants and white shirt that might have cost more than Wes’s last car repair, but Dustin generally was sharp these days, his wardrobe having undergone a serious overhaul since he’d been working with his friend Paul.
“You sure you ready for this?” he asked Dustin as they walked up to the house. “I told you, you don’t have to—”
“And I told you, it’s my birthday and I want you here. Parents. Dylan. Paul. I want this. Want you.”
“Want you too,” Wes admitted, gazing up at his handsome man. Didn’t matter if it had been a secret for all these months, he was his, and knowing that never failed to thrill him.
“And I did not shell out all that money in legal advice to spend my birthday alone.” Dustin gave him a hard stare. Before they’d gone to the late-night movie, before they’d started these baby steps toward something more public, they’d consulted a military defense attorney, who had assured them while the consequences were indeed real, since no one had been hurt, nothing damaged, no real harm for the navy to point to, the chances of them reactivating Dustin just to sanction him were very slim.
And there was no real proof without a court order for their chat logs, which was hard to get without probable cause. As far as anyone of consequence would know, they’d started seeing each other socially only after Dustin got out. And with his own discharge looming, the risk dropped further. Not gone, but far less—the navy had far bigger fish to fry.
“I don’t want you alone,” Wes said as they reached the door. “Don’t want either of us alone.”
“And we won’t be. Not much longer.” Dustin’s unwavering optimism was the one thing that had sustained Wes through these interminable months. God, he loved this man.
“Gonna hold you to that,” Wes said gruffly. “Now, come on. Show me to the firing squad.”
* * *
Dustin wasn’t allowed to be nervous. Wes was nervous enough for both of them, so he had to be the one to smile and laugh at Wes’s joke, even as his own insides were a bit wobbly. Oh, he wasn’t too nervous about the fraternization consequences—that would continue to hover over them, but no one in this house meant them any harm, of that he was sure.
No, he was more nervous because of old worries. Stupid shit over who he was and who these people expected him to be—
“You’re here!” Dylan flung open the door. “Happy Birthday, old man.”
“Thanks, I think.” Dustin gave him a quick back-slapping hug.
“Girls made the cake, so no comments on its lumpiness, okay?” Dylan turned to Wes, who while certainly not cowering, was hanging back a bit, getting a read on the chaos that was Dylan and Apollo’s house. Dustin didn’t blame him. “You Wes?”
“Yeah.” Wes stuck out a hand. “Brought some wine.”
“I like a guy who comes prepared,” Dylan took the bottle from him. “Apollo made a couple of giant lasagnas so this will go perfect. And I’ll let you get a glass before I start bugging you about why on earth you’re putting up with my brother.”
“Eh. He does all right.” Wes gave him half a smile, still looking around the room. In the far corner of the living room, the twins and Paul’s kids were playing a noisy board game. The women—Paul’s wife and Dustin’s mom and step-mom—were sitting on the couches, chatting. Farther on, he could see Apollo and Paul talking in the kitchen while Apollo was doing something with a salad. Apollo’s mom bustled through with a stack of plates, and—
“About time you got here.” And his dad was right in front of them. Dustin resisted the urge to gulp in a breath as there was another round of fast hugs.
“This is Wes.” Dustin tugged him forward. “The guy I told you about.”
“He brought wine,” Dylan added before his dad could reply.
“You the reason he’s researching DC condos?” His father held out a hand, no real rancor in his voice.
“Guilty.” Wes’s smile was still tight and narrow.
“Hey, I’m the one with the DC idea,” Dustin protested, which was true. He wanted a fresh start for both of them, something that would be easier away from the fishbowl of San Diego and the possibility of rumors resurfacing. They’d stay on the super down-low here until Wes’s discharge, then head east where they could be incrementally more open. And Wes deserved to be closer to his folks and Sam, and the same coast would be nice for all of them. The security firm had a DC office, so a transfer wasn’t going to be hard at all.