Kurt spent Sunday in his hotel room. He had a few people he could have stopped in and said goodbye to, he guessed, but no one who’d seriously mourn his loss. He’d done some good while he was here, but he hadn’t gotten close enough with anyone to warrant seeking company or burdening them with his grief.

He wanted his mum, but she had her own troubles and her own cares. She didn’t deserve to have him pile his crap on her, especially when she couldn’t easily hop onto a plane and fly out to be with him. Besides, Kurt was a grown-ass man. He didn’t need to go pour his heart out on someone else’s shoulder. He would be perfectly fine on his own, thank you very much. He just needed a day to mourn and he’d be back on his feet.

Okay, he’d be able to fake it. He was good at faking it and always had been, so no harm there.

He didn’t pretend he was going to get any work done. He tried to read, but everything just seemed tired and dull compared to Dom. He worked out a little, but his heart wasn’t in it. Dom wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot. He was trying. That was the important thing. He was trying, and Kurt still had to leave.

Could he find a way to come back? Technically, he could. He could find a way to return and have his lover be part of his life. Who was he kidding, though? There would never be a point when Dom wasn’t jealous of the men he’d been with before. There would never come a time when Dom wasn’t upset by his frequent absences. Frankly, while Kurt might be open to loving Dom, and willing to love Dom, he wasn’t there yet. He sure as hell wasn’t willing to abandon his dream of getting his mum a nice and private place out in the country for a guy who didn’t respect him or what he did.

Even if he was being slowly brought around.

He shook his head. No. He was being slowly brought around, sure, but some things would stay important to him. That wasn’t a bad thing—people should have values, damn it—but Kurt wasn’t going to give up on his own plans of going back to his own country to stay in this one full time on the potential of “slowly brought around.” That would be foolish.

The movies he made sold hope to millions of people—billions of them, worldwide. He wasn’t sure he was a big believer in hope.

He packed up his things. This was something Elisa used to try to do for him, complaining all the while. Kurt had ultimately taken to doing it himself, packing up in the wee hours before she could get to it just to have some control over when and what. He had to laugh at himself, though. For all his money and all his hard work, everything he owned could still fit into one big suitcase, one carry-on, and a laptop case.

He guessed that would change, soon. Babies generated stuff. That’s just what they did. They had a ton of clothes, and they needed toys and a travel crib and car seats and so many diapers. He’d need more staff just to carry it all. He could just imagine the interview. All right, Nigel. Your job will be to carry things in and out of places. You won’t be interacting with Algernon in any way, but you’ll be carrying his load of stuff through airports. I realize you’ve got a master’s degree in Russian literature, and this probably isn’t what you planned to do with your life, but here we are.

It sounded grand.

He couldn’t work himself up into a panic attack about it. People did this all the time. If they could do it, he could too. He could find a way to make it work.

He laid out some clothes for himself and slept naked that night, so he didn’t have to worry about packing anything up. He cried himself to sleep, too, since no one could see or hear him. When his alarm went off, he washed the traces of his tears away and got dressed. No one should be able to see the remains of his grief or his regrets.

He might be done with the “bad boy” persona, but he was still Kurt McNeil. Kurt McNeil didn’t do regrets. Kurt McNeil was strong. Kurt McNeil was independent. Kurt McNeil kept his head up, his back straight, and he got on with things. That was the impression he wanted to give his child.

John met him at breakfast. “Are you okay?”

Kurt hesitated. He was tempted to pour his heart out, just because John was the first person to ask. John was still new to him, though. He couldn’t completely trust him, but he didn’t want to start things off with lies. “I’ll get there eventually,” he said, and forced a grin. “I’m sure of it. In the meantime, I’m trying to look forward. There’s a baby on the way, after all. And that’s going to be incredible.”

John grinned. “It really will, won’t it? Do you have names picked out yet?”

Kurt settled in a little bit better now that he had a better subject. “Well, I’ve been referring to it as Algernon, because it’s so dreadful no one will think I should keep it. I thought I might name it after its father, if it’s a boy, but Dominic McNeil sounds like the boy at Catholic school who’s always half a step away from getting expelled.”

John laughed like a seal about to get a fish. “You’re not wrong. My parents had me in Catholic school right up until college, and I knew that kid. He had detention every day. Every day,” he repeated with a shiver. “What if it’s a girl?”

“Oh, that’s easy. I’d name her after my mum. Azade McNeil might not sound quite right, but it’s also been done so folks’ve had time to get used to it.” Kurt hadn’t told his mother that part yet. He wanted to wait until she held her namesake in her arms, if the baby was a girl of course. “Do you have any children, John?”

A shadow passed over John’s face. “Not anymore. But they were a joy to me while they were here, and I’m able to keep their memory alive with me now.” He bowed his head for a moment. “So. Arizona. Where in Arizona are we going?”

“Yuma. The movie’s about SEALs stuck out in the desert, because of course there’s a ton of naval installations out in the middle of the Sahara, so we’re off to Yuma.” He rolled his eyes.

John shrugged. “I know the SEALs have been involved with a few inland operations.”

“They have. I shouldn’t make faces at the plot of a film for which I’m being paid so much money, but let’s be honest here. My character spends most of the film wandering around with no shirt for reasons that have nothing to do with the plot. The plot is jingoistic claptrap designed to appeal to the sort of man who thinks election interference is just fine if the wrong sort of people are prevented from voting, and I think the script might have been edited by a drunken chinchilla.”

John snorted. “Tell me how you really feel, Kurt. Is it really that bad?”

“Hap is a loner. He works alone because he doesn’t play well with others. Real SEALs are part of a team.” He shuddered. “Josse pulled one of his ‘I gave my word’ stunts on me, and I felt pressured to do it, and now he’s been fired so that won’t be happening anymore.”

“Maybe being with Dom has been good for you.” John winked at him as the waiter brought the check over. “It sounds like you’ve made a lot of changes for yourself that are doing you some good. Making you feel more positive. Not that I knew you before, but you sound like you feel more positive, like you know you feel more positive than you did before.”

Kurt had to think about that one for a moment. “I do, actually. I hadn’t thought about it that way, but you’re right. I had to stand up for myself an awful lot with Dom, and that made me more willing to stand up for myself in other areas.” He paid the check. “I suppose we ought to get going.”

“You don’t want to go?”

Kurt steadied himself. “I made a commitment. I kind of have to. Honestly, I want to. I just…” He licked his lips. “I just.”

“Yeah. I hear you.” John stood up. “Let’s head out. Like ripping off a bandaid.”

They headed out to the waiting limo. Kurt made a mental note to speak to John about the difference between limos and car services. There was already a crowd around the limousine, and he didn’t want to deal with fans right now. He forced himself to smile and be gracious, though, because it was something he knew he had to do.

The ride to the airport didn’t take long. Kurt didn’t realize he had any hopes or dreams about anyone waiting for him or seeing him off when he left until he got to the airport, where the only people waiting were more fans. Civilians.

Well, what had he expected? Dom had a job. He had an important job, damn it. They weren’t about to let an asset like a Navy SEAL knock off work to go hang round an airport for a guy he wasn’t even dating. That was patently absurd, and Kurt kicked himself for even thinking of it. He swallowed his disappointment and summoned his patience, his grace, and his love for the people who ultimately paid his salary. He signed autographs and shook hands, and he took more selfies than he’d thought possible only a few days before.

Then, when every fan had gotten at least a moment of his time, he pressed on into the airport.

He checked in, and he checked his luggage. Then he went through security and made his way to his gate. The fans had delayed them, but not by enough to make them miss their flight. They arrived in time to board, at which point Kurt got the window seat and John took the aisle. Kurt wouldn’t be disturbed by anyone for the duration.

Kurt didn’t truly give up on Dom until the plane pulled away from the gate. It was over. It wasn’t Dom’s fault, really, that he hadn’t made it to see Kurt off at the airport. It wasn’t Dom’s fault that he hadn’t really offered for Kurt to stay. They hadn’t started out intending for anything to happen between them at all, other than a night of sex and maybe a good story for Dom to tell his buddies.

No, the fault was entirely Kurt’s. Kurt had been the unreasonable one. He’d made the ridiculous demand that Dom treat him like a human being, and eventually Dom had risen to the challenge. It had been Kurt who’d started to see himself as worth more than a roll in the hay and a “no really” story to tell the grandkids. It had been Kurt who’d started to hope, when all hope could do was hurt him.

He needed to be better than this.

When they landed in Yuma, there was another limo. John had rented them a house in Yuma instead of a hotel, on the grounds that it was not only cheaper but a hell of a lot nicer than any of the local hotels. Kurt didn’t argue. If John said there weren’t any higher-end hotels, he was probably right, and the house offered better privacy anyway.

He did wonder, with all the filming that got done in Yuma, how they could get away with such feeble accommodations, but he didn’t ask. He didn’t feel up to it right now.

Instead, he turned his attention to unpacking and exploring his new surroundings. The house came furnished, and it was clean. It had a pool, not that he expected to get to use it. There was a home chef service that came once a week to prep meals for him and John, which was healthier for the baby than restaurant food all the live-long. He would be well taken care of here, he guessed.

A car service took them to the set the next morning for the first day of production. Kurt met the crew, some of whom he knew from other projects. They all seemed nice enough and they were all willing enough to work with him, so he must have made an okay impression. The makeup artist, Jenny, was a blessing. He’d worked with her before on three or four projects, and he had to be grateful he didn’t have to work with a stranger on body makeup for this one.

Anisa Cho played his love interest. She was barely eighteen, and playing the part of a twenty-five year old woman. Meanwhile, forty year old women were expected to play eighteen year old girls. Kurt and Anisa shared a laugh about that in the commissary tent during a break.

They shot promo stills for hours, and Kurt felt a pang in his heart when he thought about what Dom would have thought about them. He’d comment about how you’d kill the whole Gulf of Mexico with the amount of oil they’re using on me right now. He put up with it, though, because they were cramming all of the stills into one day so they could start filming the next.

He went back to the house that night already exhausted. He and John ate their pre-made frozen meals in the eat-in kitchen that had been covered in stylized crosses, and Kurt waited for a phone call.

It never came.

He shouldn’t have expected one. He knew better.

He looked at his call sheet. They hadn’t been kidding when they said they were going to pack a lot of work into the next couple of months. He studied up on the scenes they were filming tomorrow. He knew his lines, and there would be a teleprompter there if he needed it, but he needed to do his best. He wanted to prove that they hadn’t made a mistake.

The movie might be trash, but they’d gone the extra mile for him. He was going to return the favor. His heart might be broken, but he’d gone a long way toward breaking it himself. He had to keep going. He could mope when he was done working.

* * *

Dom looked at his watch at fourteen minutes after noon on Monday. That was when Kurt’s plane had been due to leave Virginia for Yuma. He’d subscribed to have text alerts if there was any kind of issue or delay, and nothing had come through so he knew there was no reason for Kurt to be held back.

Kurt was gone.

Some part of Dom had hoped Kurt would find some excuse to stay, but he knew deep down it wasn’t feasible. The guy had a contract, after all, and a lot of other people depended on Kurt fulfilling the terms of his contract. The guy who spent the money to send GED materials to a prison he visited once because people there needed it wasn’t going to just abandon a crew of people for a guy.

He could still wish, though. The funny thing was, he’d never spent much time thinking or wishing about a guy until he’d lost him forever.

The platoon had plenty of work to do. They were gearing up to take on some new members. Fitzpatrick and Robson were leaving the team to go to the Academy up in Annapolis, and they were going to have to break in some new blood. Kelly had gotten a promotion. He was going to go on to take on Chief’s role for a whole new platoon, one with mostly betas. So the team of brothers they’d built was going to change in itself, and the whole thing left Dom feeling a little unsettled and dissatisfied.

The Navy had been his home since he turned eighteen. The SEALs had been his home since he turned twenty-one. He guessed it would still be his home, but would it feel like a home without the same band of brothers inside it?

He met the new guys. They seemed okay. Chung, Hume, and Larsen. They’d all been through BUDS, so he knew they could do the job. All of them seemed to lack a sense of humor, but new guys could be like that sometimes. They looked at the rest of the platoon like they had halos and wings or some crap like that. “You guys were the first all-alpha platoon,” Larsen breathed, eyes wide. “You’re the ones who’ve been going after the White Dawn connection this whole time!”

Dom side-eyed him. “I thought that was supposed to be secret.” It was secret. It was so secret most of the guys in the platoon hadn’t known just how far it went. Dom hadn’t, and he hadn’t wanted to know, either.

“I worked in Naval Intelligence before I got my chance at BUDS.” Larsen blushed. “I was a friend of Baldinotti’s. She put in a good word for me, actually.”

Oh Lord, a fanboy. “You know,” Dom told him, “it’s mostly not like that. We follow orders. There’s a lot of hurry up and wait, just like there is for any other assignment. There’s a lot of perfectly normal fighting we do, and a lot of perfectly normal assignments. We fight ISIS just like other SEALs. Most of our job is physical, just like everyone else’s.”

“I get that. I do. Still, it’s something to get assigned to the guys who’ve been part of history twice, you know?”

Dom privately thought the guy had a lot of learning to do. He kept his mouth shut, though. Telling the guy wouldn’t do much. Maybe he’d learn some lessons faster than Dom had. Maybe not. Maybe he’d learn some things differently than Dom had, and not get so set in his ways he’d congealed. “Well, I’m glad you’re here,” he said, and went down to the firing range for a while.

Chief noticed early on that Dom lacked his usual enthusiasm for the job. He let it go for a few days before he dragged him out to a bar after work. They didn’t go to Shifty’s Too, because it was closed, but they found someplace else they could get a pint.

If possible, the Salty Dawg was even seedier than Shifty’s had been. The diverse staff strongly suggested there would be no Chaos Tree involvement, however, and right now Dom cared about that more than the actual sawdust on the floor. “I still can’t believe our bar was crawling with terrorists,” he groused to his superior.

Chief made a face. “You’re telling me? It makes my stomach hurt just thinking about it. I’m old. I’ve been around a long time. I should have realized something was wrong, something was different. But no, what it took was a young kid who wasn’t even military, who hadn’t even served, to walk in, look around the place once, say, ‘Pip pip cheerio, I think we’ve got a white supremacist infestation here by gum!’ Bam! Turns out they were all over the place like roaches, listening to everything we said.”

“To be fair, I don’t think he’d ever said ‘Pip pip cheerio.’ Or at least not since grade school.” Dom chuckled. “I think it’s probably just because he’s had to be so observant, you know? To pick up on things for the roles he plays, or just living the life he had to live.” He sighed. “You know, you see these guys up there in the tabloids or on the red carpet and you think, ‘Look at that smug bastard, look at the way their teeth go ‘ting’ in the light, I hate them.’ You have no idea what’s gone on in their life, you know? It’s no wonder so many of them wind up turning to drugs and crap, especially the child actors.”

“I’ll bet.” Chief scratched at his beard and sipped his drink. “So. How are you feeling about this whole separation thing, son?”

Dom wrinkled his nose. How was he supposed to answer him? He hated the stupid separation. He wanted to end it, all of it. He couldn’t. “It is what it is. It’s galling to me that I can’t be with him. But he can’t stop what he’s doing. Even if he could, he wouldn’t. I understand why, and it’s not right to make that demand of him.”

“He’s good at what he does, and he loves it.” Chief nodded sagely. “And you’re good at what you do. My question is, do you still love it?”

Dom froze. “I’m loyal, sir. I’ve been nothing but devoted to this platoon and to the Navy.”

“Oh, come on, Van Heel. No one’s even come close to suggesting otherwise. Everyone knows you’ve been a SEAL’s SEAL. But this whole…adventure, with White Dawn and all their foul little minions, it’s taken a toll on us. It’s taken a toll on all of us. No one’s going to fault you if you think it’s time to step back and maybe find a new line of work. Fitzpatrick’s doing it. Robson’s doing it.”

Dom looked away. “I’m a Van Heel, sir. Van Heel men serve.”

“And you have served, son. You’ve served with distinction. Your family’s got a lot to be proud of. Your dad served, but he wasn’t career military. He put in his time and went on to be a farmer. Your uncle became a cop. There is absolutely no shame in stepping away, especially if you’re ready.”

The room spun. “I can’t even think about that, sir. Where would I go? My dad’s so proud of having a SEAL for a son. What’s he going to say to his friends, ‘Oh, Dom was doing well, he was a SEAL and all that, but you know, he turned tail and ran at the first sign things might not be everything he dreamed of?”

“Then I’d take him on myself. No one expected you to spend the rest of your life in uniform, and a guy who doesn’t want to be here anymore isn’t going to be any help to those that do. Now, don’t get me wrong. We’re all still going to be your brothers. Those ties aren’t going to disappear just because you went off and started a family somewhere.”

Dom’s breath caught in his chest. “Do you really think I could do that?”

Chief chuckled to himself. “I think the family’s starting itself, with or without you. The baby’s on the way no matter what. It would have a better life if its father were around.”

Dom wiped his sweaty palm on his leg. “But sir—I’m just a grunt. What would I do?”

“Anything your little heart desired, Van Heel. I’d start by looking into getting immigration status with England, though.”

Immigration status. The thought made Dom’s blood run cold. “What if Kurt won’t let me? I mean he doesn’t need me for financial support. And I was absolutely a dick to him, before I started getting my head out of my ass.”

Chief pursed his lips. “I’d brush up on my persuasive arguments, then. Make him see how much he needs you for the rest of it. But he saw enough in you to keep giving you chances, long after any reasonable man would have chased you away with a stick. So maybe you could give it a shot.”

Dom took a deep breath. “What if he says no? Or what if they won’t let me go to the UK with him?”

“Cross that bridge when you come to it. In the meantime, start the application process. Don’t reenlist. It’s a risk, but it’s one you have to take if you want to get the reward. I think you’re going to want the reward, don’t you?”

Dom nodded. “Sir, I don’t like feeling like I’m abandoning my teammates like this.”

Chief put a hand over Dom’s. “Van Heel, no one’s abandoning anyone. Some guys are in it for life. Some guys are in it until the job is done. I think this whole thing, where we’ve taken down a major international terrorist organization? Yeah, that’s a pretty big job, and now it’s done. You can stand down now.”

Muscles Dom hadn’t realized were tense relaxed. Maybe it was okay for him to stand down. As soon as he’d joined the Navy, he’d assumed he was just in it for the rest of his life. He hadn’t given any thought to after, especially not when he made it through BUDS. Hell, there had been times during BUDS when he hadn’t believed there would be an after.

“I can do that, can’t I?” He took a deep breath. “It feels shameful to even think that way, but I can do that.” He licked his lips. “Honestly, I want to do that. I probably wouldn’t have, if there weren’t a baby involved. But having a child changes things. I want to be part of my child’s life. If Kurt was going to be able to be around here, maybe I could stay in the Navy, but he can’t. And I have a golden opportunity, one no one in my family has ever had before.”

Chief’s smile was gentle, almost paternal. “A lot of guys won’t admit it, but they’d give a lot to be sitting where you’re sitting. It’s a blessing to have the chance to be around for your kid. Whether or not things work out between you and Kurt, that’s up to you. But you have the chance to make things work for you and that baby. You take care of mustering out and getting your paperwork in order. You let me worry about the guys.”

Dom started his visa application process as soon as he got home from the bar. The fees were steep, and would probably be prohibitive under most circumstances. As it was, they wiped out everything Dom had been putting toward a new car, but Kurt was worth it. Their child was worth it.

The men from Recruitment and Retention called him a week later to tell him to reenlist. Their tone made it clear they thought it was a foregone conclusion, and they were probably justified in that assumption. After all, Dom was a Texas boy with a family tradition of service behind him and a reputation for being a super patriot. He thought they were going to burst a circuit when he told them no.

“Look, I’ve been very proud to be a SEAL, and this hasn’t been an easy decision for me. But I’m going to be a father, and my partner is a foreign national. Given that he’s the higher wage earner, it doesn’t make sense to demand he sacrifice his career. So, I’m going to go and help to raise my child. I love my country, but the basic building block of this country is the family. That has to come first, gentlemen.”

The recruiters went silent on the other end for several long minutes. “Well, we can’t exactly argue with that, Sailor,” one told him. “We’ll be sorry to see you go. If things don’t work out with the other parent, there’ll still be a place for you in the Navy. Probably not as a SEAL, at least not right away, but there are plenty of other areas of service that would welcome a man with your skills with open arms.”

“I appreciate that. I’ll be sure to keep you posted.”

With that, Dom got an official separation date of six weeks from Friday. His insides roiled. Six weeks until an uncertain future beckoned. He had savings to live on, but nowhere to go and nothing to do. What, exactly, would the future hold for him? Who hired former SEALs, anyway? Could he be a locksmith, maybe?

He’d worry about that later. He’d always been a meticulous planner, especially after joining the Navy. It was the nature of the job, really. Now, for the first time, he was cutting the mooring ropes and trusting to the current to take him where he needed to be. He kept up with his workouts, and kept training the new guys, but his mind wasn’t in Virginia Beach. His mind was in Arizona.

Hopper and his husband made it clear they thought he was doing the right thing, but Dom wasn’t reassured. “I’m still not convinced he won’t chase me away on general principle,” he said, as they treated him to dinner one night. “Why wouldn’t he? He’s got no reason to want to saddle himself with an extra dependent right now.”

“Don’t think of yourself that way. Think of yourself more as an added expert. Think of yourself as providing security,” Ben told him. “As he gets more famous and more important, he’s going to need security more than ever. And that, my friend, is going to make you even more important in his life.”

It took a moment for the implications to become clear in Dom’s mind, but when they did he clutched at his stomach. “I’m absolutely going to be sick.”

“Not in here. We just got it cleaned.” Hopper shuddered. “I actually let someone else come into my house and steam clean it. I don’t even want to know what the nanny did that made that necessary, but here we are.”

Dom didn’t ask. He knew there was more to the nanny than anyone was letting on. If she said to steam clean something, they were all better off steaming it. “I’m good,” he promised. “I just need to calm down.”

“You could try calling him,” Hopper suggested. “Telling him you’re coming to join him? You know, like an adult?”

Dom scoffed. “There’s no romance in that, Hopper. Come on.”