And now here was better, live and up close. I’d heard our new medics had recently arrived, and I was betting this guy was one of them. That gave me all the excuse I needed to introduce myself. I crossed the tarmac toward him slowly, keeping my steps unhurried while my heart raced ahead of me.
Up close he was even more beautiful than I realized. His eyes a blue that made me think of summers at the lake. And his clothes were clean, still smelling of soap instead of sweat and blood and war. If anything, it made him seem more vulnerable.
At my approach he pushed off the truck, straightening. He was taller than I expected, his shoulders strong and arms corded with wiry muscle. I dropped my eyes to the name across his chest. Wilde. My eyebrows twitched, wondering just how much the moniker suited him.
“You my new medic?” I asked.
He nodded. “Sure am. Liam Wilde.” He reached out a hand to me.
I took it. My first thought was how delicate this man’s fingers were as my own closed around them. They were long and thin and seemed completely ill suited for the jungle. But then he squeezed and I felt the firmness of his grip — the surety of his strength. It surprised me.
Maybe there was more to this kid than I’d expected at first sight.
He cleared his throat and I realized that I hadn’t yet introduced myself. I’d just been standing there, holding onto his hand like it was some sort of lifeline to another world that only existed in daydreams.
“I’m Major Weston Marian,” I told him, my voice sounding gruff to my own ears.
He smiled, shifting the cigarette from one side of his mouth to the other and I found myself mesmerized by the movement. “Nice to meet you,” he said. “Any tips for the new guy?”
I wrenched my eyes to meet his. I waited a beat, wondering how honest I should be. I decided to go with the truth. “Stay safe.”
My answer must have surprised him because his brows rose. For a moment I saw a flash of vulnerability cross his face, as if I’d broken some sort of code. Like we weren’t supposed to talk about the reality of where we were and what we were doing—that death stalked us at every turn.
“How?” He asked.
Stay next to me. I almost said the words. Almost. I shook my head at the absurdity of that thought.
“That’s what we’re all trying to figure out, Doc,” I told him. I didn’t wait for him to respond but instead turned on my heel and stalked to my tent. I felt somehow unsteady, my pulse too fast and my cheeks too hot, my uniform dirty and uncomfortable.
He’s not for you, I reminded myself. None of them ever will be.
I used that reminder to push thoughts of Doc Wilde from my mind for the rest of the day. But at night… the rules were different. Getting some shut-eye was always easier with something nice to think of, and Doc Wilde was the nicest thing around. Obviously, I wouldn’t act on my physical attraction to the new medic. That was a surefire way to get beaten and court-martialed at the very least. At most, it was enough cause for my men not to have my back in the shit.
But looking was free, and remembering was easy. Even though I hadn’t even had a chance to really meet him, the combat medic became the leading role late at night in my hooch.
Second Lieutenant William Wilde. Almost everyone called him “Doc” or “Band-Aid” like they called all the medics, but in my comforting daydreams where I went to escape the horror of the job, he was always Liam to me.
I knew the man I fantasized about wasn’t real. I didn’t even know the real Doc Wilde. Not yet.
I’d nodded to him a few times across a group of men or passed something down the mess table to him when asked, but we’d never actually had a conversation other than that quick introduction the day after he’d arrived at the base.
He’d been sent to our unit with another medic to replace a couple of good men who’d gotten the dustoff after their chopper had crash landed the week before. Since then, two of the birds had been short a medic, and it was a relief to get the new men.
Liam seemed to fit in right off the bat in a way I never had. He could slide his ass into a card game at night with enlisted men or yuk it up with fellow officers with the ease of a man who’d been born charming and easy. Because I’d started off my army career as enlisted and eventually worked my way into officer ranks, I was in that odd middle zone between the two. I was no longer enlisted, but I’d never really felt like a true officer either.