On Point (Out of Uniform 3) - Page 58
“He’s not exactly the filing type.” Maddox cautiously joined in the joking. Could the LT tell what they’d been getting up to just by looking at him? Did his eyes light up at the mention of Ben’s name? Would something in his voice give them away? He’d been proud to show Ben off at church on Sunday, but that was a far cry from being ready to bring the full wrath of the US Navy down on them. He’d already reviewed the official fraternization and relationship memos, and they were clear: any romantic relationship between them would be prohibited, and they were already skating on thin ice, living together with Ben a chief now and Maddox not—all it would take would be a single complaint or instance of scrutiny. And maybe Ben wasn’t worried about that, but Maddox sure as heck was.
“He must be a bear at home...” The LT drifted off, mouth quirking and eyes narrowing, like he’d just remembered that they lived together. Yeah, all Maddox needed was to throw fuel on the embers running through his commander’s brain.
And it’s more like lion. Not fuzzy enough for a bear. Maddox suppressed a smile.
“We’re both focused on the rehab. Getting back to 100 percent.” Maddox kept his tone businesslike and distant, not inviting further discussion.
“Which is what I want to hear.” The LT dragged a chair over and sat a little too close for Maddox’s comfort, posture as perfect as ever. “I think you know why I’m really here.”
Maddox had never been good at playing dumb. “I’ve got a pretty good idea, yeah.”
“You’re running out of time to do your re-up paperwork. I was disappointed not to see it on my desk when we returned.” He shook his head, tone making Maddox feel all of fifteen, letting his dad down about chores.
“I know.” He gave up the pretense of pedaling, the whirring noise of the bike echoing the noise in his brain. “I’m...still not sure.”
“Well, how about you get sure?” The LT made a frustrated noise and drummed his fingers against his binder. “Is anything going on that I should know about? Fighting with Tovey—”
“Nothing to do with him,” Maddox said, maybe a bit too quickly.
“Someone else say something? Guys running their mouth about your personal life? You know I don’t stand for that on my team.”
Maddox did know that and he was intensely grateful for the LT’s zero-tolerance policy on harassment and bullying. Rogers might be a cranky bastard, but the LT kept him in line when it counted. “Nope. I love the team. Nothing to do with that.”
“Is this where I remind you that you’re one of the best sharpshooters in the Navy, and we need you?”
But I’m not sure I need you. Maddox drew in a steadying breath. “I know that, sir. And thank you.”
“I need an answer. And soon.” The LT leaned forward, eyes intent. “And my door is always open. You know that. If you’re having an attack of the yips—”
“It’s not about doubts.” Maddox sighed. “I’ll have an answer for you soon.”
“End of next week. Or sooner.” The LT nodded like it was all settled, and stood up. “And Horvat...” Taking a deep breath, he lowered his voice. “I respect you. Always have. No matter what you decide, that’s not going to change.”
“Thank you, sir. That means a lot.” Maddox’s throat grew tighter than the exercise bands over on the therapy table. The LT might respect his decision, but would Ben?
Long after the LT left, his brain continued to churn. The past week with Ben had been nothing short of magical—every one of his deepest fantasies realized. Ben to come home to. Ben in his bed. Ben to feed and take care of. Ben to put first.
And when Maddox thought of it that way, there was only one possible decision in front of him. He wasn’t a risk taker—when he took a shot, he was always certain of hitting the target, knowing deep inside that he’d hit dead center. But for the first time, he was going to have to pull the trigger and rely on nothing more than hope that the kickback wasn’t going to land him on his ass.
* * *
Ben hated constricting things. Hated being penned in. Frowning at himself in the triple mirror, he yanked at his tie.
“Your dad is nervous.” Maddox lowered himself down across from Ben on the upholstered chairs outside the tuxedo shop dressing rooms. He was still in street clothes as the mustached shop owner had been all full of clucking noises and concern over his cast and had bustled off to the back of the shop to try to get a pair of pants that would work.
“My dad is fine.” Ben glanced at the far dressing room where his father and a tailor had disappeared. Apparently a steady diet of tennis and worry over Ben’s injuries had caused him to lose a few inches, which was yet another thing for Ben to feel guilty over. “He’s known Camilla forever. They’ve lived together for like a decade now. Nothing to be nervous over.”
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