Because you shut him out. He had to own that. And that was the mess they’d created—he wasn’t able to get close to anyone with this secret dogging him. And he was not going to be responsible for torpedoing Dustin’s career. He’d seen the blood thirst in the LT’s eyes—if they were found out, Dustin would be the one to pay. I’ve been so selfish.
Maybe he’d needed Dustin too much, leaned on him too heavily while he was worried about Sam. And it wasn’t just that—he’d felt something, right from their first online chat. And DC had only confirmed how far gone his crush on Dustin was, with everything that had happened since turning crush into something far more potent—and dangerous. But that had to stop right now. It was time to be the strong one.
I’m here, he typed at last.
You alone? We need to talk. Dustin’s reply was fast, as if he’d already had it typed before Wes’s message sent.
Wes hit call, because as he’d predicted, he couldn’t turn away from the need to hear Dustin. And besides there were some things too important to type.
“Why’d you do it?” Dustin asked without preamble when the call connected. He’d hit video chat because, yeah, he was a masochist, needing to see if Dustin looked as wrecked as he felt. And he did—bloodshot eyes and haggard face. He was on his bed, not the couch like usual. And damn, Wes could still remember what Dustin’s body had felt like next to his as they’d dozed.
“Lie you mean?” Wes forced himself to stop pacing, collapsing in his desk chair, and holding the phone steady so that Dustin wouldn’t get a jumpy picture. “Tell me I had a choice.”
“You always have a choice.” Dustin scrubbed at his hair.
“Really? Because last I’d checked, court martial was no joke—for either of us. A formal investigation would be the kiss of death for both of our careers, even if they didn’t boot us out. We can’t risk something where they’d seize our phone records—or worse. You know the consequences.”
“I know.” Dustin’s eyes squished shut. “And I know lying was the only choice for you. But I hate this. Hate that I put you in that position.”
“You didn’t put me in anything. In case you missed it, I was right there with you, instigating all of the contact. If anyone’s to blame here, it’s me. I knew the risk to your career, but I wanted to believe there was no way we’d get caught. I was stupid and naive.”
“No, you weren’t. Or at least no more than I was. And I’ve never been so stupid about anything in my life. And you know what’s awful?”
“No.” Wes shook his head. Everything was awful. Everything.
“I’d do it all over again. Every bit of it. And I don’t want to stop.”
Then don’t. Wes dug his heels into the carpet to keep those deadly words down. God, it should not thrill him that Dustin didn’t have regrets, that this meant that much to him. “We have to,” he said instead.
“I could get out.” Dustin didn’t look at the camera, eyes on some far off point.
Oh hell no. No way was Wes being responsible for one of the navy’s best officers leaving out of some fucked-up sense of nobility. Wes wasn’t worth that. “No you couldn’t.”
“Maybe it would be for the best—”
“For who? For you? You’ve worked your whole service for this. Think I don’t hear the buzz that you could be LT of your own team this time next year? No way in hell am I standing in the way of you taking the command you’ve earned.”
“For us,” Dustin whispered. “Maybe it would be the best for us.”
Oh this was bad. And here Wes had thought the point-blank lying portion of the day was done. “I don’t want that.”
“You don’t want an us? Don’t want to see—”
“There can’t be an us,” Wes countered, parts of himself dying with each syllable. “We were DOA, man. The second I showed up here at Coronado. Before then even. There was never an us. Just two lonely guys jerking off.”
“That’s all this was? Easy sex?” Dustin’s voice was so wounded that Wes wanted to leap through the phone, hold him close.
But he couldn’t. Could only steel his voice, force the lie out. “Yup. Just getting off. And we weren’t honest—either of us. Starting with lies... Where did we really think this was headed? Church bells and walks on the beach?” Before Dustin could answer, he turned the knife a little harder. “No, man, it was sex. Pure and simple.”
“Simple,” Dustin echoed. “But I... There were real feelings here. I felt it. I know you did too.”
Every last one of those feelings hit Wes at once—tenderness, compassion, connection, frustration, caring. And yeah, he could say it, acknowledge it to himself—love. But it didn’t matter one bit. Love wasn’t going to save Dustin’s career. Love wasn’t going to be enough to hold them together when Dustin realized what he’d given up for Wes. So he stiffened his backbone, vertebrae by vertebrae.