“Yeah. We’ll see if we can get Donaldson and Lowe both sorted out. Thanks, Lieutenant.” With that, the senior chief headed into the LT’s office.
Dustin said a fast prayer that the LT would grant the requests. Wes might be nervous about going back home, but it would be good for him to see his family. Dustin had piles of leave stockpiled that he never used. He wished he could gift it to Wes, let him stay out there until the transplant came through, but of course that wasn’t how things worked.
They had the debriefing session about the mission with the men in the afternoon, where Dustin very carefully positioned himself away from Wes, who was sitting with Curly and Bacon and looking rather haggard, eyes even more hooded and broody than usual. If the LT was granting the leave request, Wes clearly hadn’t heard about it yet. Dustin wished he could say something to him, lift his spirits in some way.
After the meeting, Dustin had some more paperwork to catch up on. He was just pulling into his condo with some takeout for dinner when his phone chimed with a message.
At the airport. I know you’re going to say you had nothing to do with this. But thank you. You know what this means to me.
Oh man. Dustin’s chest clenched hard. He typed a fast reply. Nothing I did, promise. Thank the senior chief.
Wes’s answer came while Dustin was dishing out his food. Plane’s about to board. Thanks again for talking me off the ledge the other night.
It was a nice note to end on. No need to reply at all. However, Dustin’s fingers tapped out an answer before he could stop them. Message me when you get there?
Keeping the lines of communication open between the two of them was not a good idea at all. And yet he seemed powerless over the need to know Wes was okay. And when Wes didn’t message him from the flight, he should have pushed Wes from his mind, but instead he dreamed of him—and not the dirty kind he often had, but just them talking, Dustin trying to help him make sense of things, the two of them working together. Ordinary stuff that shouldn’t have made him sad to wake up, but there he was, rubbing his eyes at the crack of dawn, wishing he could stay a little longer with dream Wes.
When he picked up his phone, there was finally a new message.
Made it. Sam says hi. Wes had attached a picture of him sitting on the edge of a hospital bed with a smiling young woman in a blue hospital gown who had Wes’s dark hair and light eyes. Wes looked exhausted but happier than Dustin had seen him in weeks.
He should just leave it, not reply. This was a new level of personal involvement, sharing family pics. And yet warmth spread across his chest. He liked that Wes had shared that, far more than he should. Hi, Sam. Glad you made it, Wes. Get some rest, okay?
Wes’s reply was a flirty wink. Wish I had you to nap with. Take care.
He headed into base, mood weirdly lighter for having talked to Wes, even a little. He was so, so screwed.
* * *
“So tell me about your guy.” Sam was sitting cross-legged on her hospital bed, new tablet in front of her, smile the picture of innocence but her eyes sparkling with mischief.
“I don’t have a guy.” Wes quickly pocketed his phone. He’d just sent Dustin a picture of Sam with the tablet he’d gotten her. That had been a great suggestion of his as Sam had squealed when he brought it in, and Wes and his dad had had fun at the electronics store picking it and some accessories out for her. It had been nice to see his dad smile too, to have something concrete for both of them to do for Sam.
“Yes, you do.” Sam all but bounced on the bed, a ridiculous amount of energy for someone as sick as the doctors all said she was. “You keep messaging someone and smiling to yourself when they message back. And you blush if I try to see your phone.”
“I don’t blush. At anything.” He stared her down. Sick or not, he was still the big brother. “And there’s no guy. At least not like what you’re thinking.”
“Aha! So there is someone.” She beamed at him. “Come on. Mom’s not in here. Give me the juicy details. Is he cute?”
He’s my commanding officer, and he’s built like Thor with the face of a movie star and I can’t get him out of my head. But Wes couldn’t share any of that. “Just a friend. Sort of.”
They shouldn’t even be that. Shouldn’t be sharing this constant stream of messages back and forth during Wes’s visit here in Raleigh.