Wheels Up (Out of Uniform 4)

Dustin shook his head when Curly tried to get him to sit down, but he too seemed familiar with the guy from the other team. Guess it wasn’t all enlisted men he was allergic too, just those directly under him. Which made sense, but still made Wes’s chest burn. It was stupid really to be jealous of Dustin having friends. All the body language between him and the other lieutenant said they were friends but not lovers. No reason for Wes to be jealous. However, it wasn’t just Dustin’s dirty-talking cyber that Wes missed—it was stuff that had been closer to real friendship, the talking and hanging out, and it sucked that other people got that side of Dustin.

Wes couldn’t decide whether he was being a coward, hanging back here at the bar. Should he go over? Make a greeting and then do his getaway as planned? Right as he was about to do just that though, Dustin and his friend left the group, heading straight for the bar—and Wes. No way to neatly sidestep this. He could tell the instant Dustin spotted him because his eyes went wide—no matter what facade Dustin wanted to have in place, Wes could always find the little cracks in his armor.

“Lowe,” Dustin said when he was right in front of Wes. God, his voice was so damn impersonal, same as it had been ever since their conversation in the Jeep, and it made Wes’s stomach clench. These past few days had been torture, working with Dustin, riding with him when necessary, and trying to avoid falling into the pit of another conversation that wouldn’t fix a damn thing. “Out with the guys?”

“Yes, sir.”

“This is Lieutenant Floros. He’s with training operations. They put together the desert exercise for us a few weeks back.” Dustin made the introduction, even though Wes could tell by his distant eyes that he didn’t really want to.

“Nice to meet you.” Wes stuck out his hand, but added. “Pardon me, but I was just on my way out. Sorry to run, but I’ve got a call to return.”

Dustin’s mouth opened then shut. Fuck. The only thing worse than not talking to Dustin was knowing that Dustin wanted to talk to him, wanted to ask questions but couldn’t. Wes looked away and made his escape the second Floros released his hand.

“Have a good evening,” Floros called after him.

Doubtful. Wes made his goodbyes quick over at the tables, then headed out into the breezy night air. Having a feeling he wasn’t going to like his mom’s news, he waited until he was in the car to call.

“What’s up?” he asked when his mom picked up.

“Did I interrupt your night? I didn’t mean you had to call right back.” His mom sounded nervous, which was never a good sign.

“Nah. It’s no biggie. I was just grabbing a beer with some of the guys, but I’m heading home now anyway. How’s Sammy?”

“Her doctors are sending her case back to Duke.” His mom’s voice trembled, and there was the telltale clink of metal, like she was fiddling with her watch out of old habit. “They think she’s going to need another surgery.”

“That sucks. But the surgery should fix the problem?”

His mother gulped down a breath. “If it doesn’t... Wes, they’re talking transplant again.”

Wes squeezed his eyes shut. They’d been down this road a few times before, but each time Sammy had rebounded, narrowly escaping the need for a transplant. “She’ll pull through this,” he said, way firmer than he felt. “Do you want me to get leave for the surgery?”

“You don’t have to...”

“I’ll put in for it right away. Text or call as soon as you have a date.”

“You’re such a good big brother.” His mom sounded a bit more hopeful. Wes needed to be there for her as much as for Sam. “Now tell me about your new friends. Any cute ones?”

“Mom.” He laughed because he needed her to smile as well. He tried to focus on telling his mom about Curly and Bacon’s friends and a funny story about getting stuck in the bomb suit. But inevitably, his thoughts drifted back to Dustin. He needed to get over his fixation on what he couldn’t have.

Chapter Nine

Dustin hated office work. He’d rather do anything other than the paperwork awaiting him back at the team’s offices along with a meeting with the LT and senior chief. But the work wasn’t going to do itself, so he hurried down the hall, lunch in tow.

“Whoops.” He narrowly missed running into a very pissed-off looking Wes, who was barreling down the hall in the opposite direction as Dustin.

“Sorry.” Wes kept right on walking, eyes so narrow and smoky that Dustin was surprised there wasn’t steam rising from his head.

“Wait. W—Lowe. What’s wrong?” Dustin tried to convince himself that he’d ask the same of any of the men. He turned to try to catch up with Wes. “Anything I can help with?”