I parked in the Navy Exchange parking lot, and we headed inside to the food court. It wasn’t a struggle to keep up with Logan as we walked. I liked that about him. Whenever we were walking somewhere together, he adjusted his pace to mine. He never complained about it, either. That was more than I could say about most people.
Inside the food court, we separated to get in line for our respective lunches. I was in the mood for Taco Bell, and Logan went to Subway. The lines were long, but they moved quickly, and after we’d gotten our food, we found the cleanest table that wasn’t right in the middle of a bunch of screaming kids and sat down.
For a few minutes, we just ate. I was hungrier than I’d realized, and apparently so was he.
As I bit into one of my tacos, the shell cracked and hot hamburger grease dripped down my finger. Without thinking about it, I sucked my finger between my lips to lick it off.
I looked up, about to say something, but—
Was he watching me? And why the sudden flush of pink across his cheeks?
Nope. Nope. Nope. Not going to read between those lines and get my hopes up. I focused on the taco again, and definitely didn’t steal a glance at his dark eyes. Well, maybe not two glances. One was okay, right?
God, this awkward silence was going to make my head explode.
I washed down the food with a swig of Coke. “So how are the training records going?” It was shop talk, but, eh, it was something other than trying not to stare at each other.
“It’s definitely going to take me a while,” he said. “It’s coming along, though.”
“There as many problems as Diego thought?”
Frowning, Logan nodded. “It’s worse, actually. It’s a mess. I don’t know what the guy before me was doing, but it’s . . . ugh. I swear he had to have done that shit on purpose.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me,” I muttered. “He was an idiot and a fuckup. I was so glad when he left.” Especially when I met his replacement.
“Yeah, I can see why.”
The conversation died away. I flailed for something to talk about, but he was probably burned out on thinking about work today, especially if he’d been here since 0800. Maybe if we got more personal. Got to know each other a bit more. Like he’d tried to do when he’d first started in the office.
My heart thumped as I chewed my lip. “So, you asked about my leg the first day.”
Logan’s eyes flicked down to his food. “I know. I didn’t mean to pry. I was—”
“It’s okay.” I pulled in a breath through my nose. “It’s just a nerve because I was so pissed off about washing out of BUD/S.”
He cautiously met my gaze, an eyebrow rising. He was curious, but probably wasn’t sure how much to ask.
I absently played with my drink straw. “It was so fucked up how it went down. Most guys wash out before the end of Hell Week, you know? If you make it past that part, you’re not home free, but you’re a lot more likely to graduate.”
Logan watched me silently before he asked, “What happened?”
I blew out a breath. “Two weeks after Hell Week, we were doing PT, and they had us running in the surf. Which we’d done millions of times. I was at the front of the pack and stepped in some loose sand. Took my foot down to the ankle.”
He winced. “Oh shit.”
“Yeah. I might’ve been okay if I hadn’t been loaded up with gear, but I was. So when my foot stopped and I kept going, I had all that extra weight to throw me off-balance. Felt those two bones snap, and that was all she wrote.”
The wince turned into a full grimace, and he shuddered. “Jesus. I’m sorry to hear it.”
“It wasn’t fun, believe me.” I picked at one of the tacos, suddenly not all that hungry, and sighed. “I spent my whole fucking life focused on becoming a SEAL, and a goddamned run on the beach ends it.”
“That’s . . . Wow, that’s shitty.” Logan frowned. He looked like he was going to take another bite of his sandwich, but he seemed to have about as much of an appetite as I did. “So can you try getting back into BUD/S again later? After you’ve healed?”
Sighing, I shook my head. “The doc said there’s no way I can jump out of a plane. The way the bones are pinned and the way they healed, it’s . . .” I waved a hand. “The punch line is my leg will heal well enough for active duty, but not for doing HALO jumps with a bunch of gear strapped to my back.”
“Shit. Yeah. I mean, it’s good you won’t be jumping on it, but . . .” He paused. “I kind of get it, actually. Having to give up something you are or something you wanted to be.”
I tilted my head. “Really?”
“Yeah. Being a Marine wasn’t like a lifelong dream or anything, but once I enlisted, that was it. I was a Marine. All I wanted to be was a Marine.”
I searched his dark eyes. “So why did you get out?”
Logan swallowed. “Three combat tours in five years. My platoon was getting ready for a fourth when I was about to re-up, and I couldn’t do it. Physically, I was fine, but up here?” He tapped his temple. “No way.”
My stomach lurched. Sometimes I hated being right about people. “Jesus. That bad?”
Logan nodded, eyes losing focus. “There’s only so many times a man can handle picking up pieces of his friends and sending them home in flag-covered boxes.”
The hair on my neck stood up. It wasn’t just the words—his hollow, haunted tone gave me chills. I’d heard a similar tone from Diego when he’d alluded to his combat experiences too. Same from other guys.
“So yeah.” Logan cleared his throat and met my gaze again. “Pushing a desk is boring, but I think I’ll take it over another round of that shit.”
I scowled. “Yeah, I hear that, but damn it, I didn’t join the military to teach classes and do paperwork. It’s okay for now, but fuck if I know what I’ll be doing after my leg heals.”
“Just be glad you won’t be over there anytime soon.”
I bristled, but tamped down the irritation. He meant well and we both knew it. “No, but I’ll probably be back on a boat before the end of the year. Not really looking forward to that.”
Logan laughed quietly, which eased some of the tension. “I don’t blame you. But it could be worse—you could be on a sub.”
“Oh God. No.” I grimaced as I reached for my soda. “I’m not claustrophobic or anything, but that shit? Nuh-uh.”
“I’m right there with you. No way in hell am I going underwater in a nuclear-powered dildo.”
I almost spat soda all over him. I clapped a hand over my mouth, eyes tearing up as Coke burned my sinuses, but I managed to not spray him, so that was a win.
He smirked. “Having trouble swallowing?”
I flipped him the bird, seriously considering spitting the Coke on him just for spite. As I recovered, I coughed a few times before muttering, “Asshole.”
Logan laughed, and I couldn’t even be mad because the joke had been pretty funny, and the burn in my sinuses was worth it for the way his face lit up when he smiled. What the hell? I didn’t get swoony puppy-love crushes. Like ever.
You sure about that?
I watched him taking a sip from his own soda. Full lips around the straw. Cheeks hollowing just a little. Oh God.
Damn it. Why do you have to be a coworker?
Eventually, we cleared out of the food court, and I drove us back to the office. Neither of us said much in the car, but as I pulled into the parking lot, I couldn’t resist: “So can I ask you about something personal?”
He watched me for a few seconds before he nodded. “Yeah, sure.”
I put the car in park and let the engine idle as I turned to him. “You and Commander Fraser? Really?”
Logan blushed, and his laugh bordered on uncomfortable. He stared down at his hands. “Yeah, we . . . It didn’t last long.”
“You’re friendly, though. That’s good, right?”
He swallowed but managed to smile. “Yeah. Friendly enough that he hooked me up with the job, so you won’t hear me complaining.”
I chuckled. “Except when you’re balls-deep in unfucking training records, right?”
Logan laughed for real. “Nah, it’s not bad. I’m getting really, really familiar with the system and training records, so it’ll do me good in the long run. Just tedious is all.”
“Tedious?” I wrinkled my nose. “I get twitchy when I have to update records for one class.”
“Eh.” He waved a hand. “It’s a paycheck. I can’t complain.”
“Better you than me.” I paused. “But man, you’re lucky. Fraser is . . .” I whistled.
Logan nodded, and that discomfort crept back into his posture. “Yeah. His husband is a lucky man, definitely.”
He obviously didn’t like this line of conversation, so even though I’d been planning to let that lead into some other things I was curious about, I dropped it. “Well.” I gestured at the building. “Guess I should let you get back to work. Those records won’t fix themselves.”
Nodding, Logan unbuckled his seat belt, but didn’t exactly go charging out the door. He rested his hand on the handle and met my gaze over the console. “Thanks again. It was a nice break.”
“Anytime.”
He didn’t move. I didn’t break eye contact. Something about the way he looked at me had electricity skittering under my skin. The fact that I knew he was gay wasn’t helping at all. And he knew I was gay too. Of course that didn’t mean we were automatically into each other, but knowing we both liked dudes while we were sitting in tense silence having a staring contest? That was tough to brush off as a couple of possibly straight guys being socially awkward.
Abruptly, though, we both cleared our throats and looked away. He opened the door, and the change in air pressure seemed to break what was left of the spell. I tried not to sound relieved as I exhaled.
“So, um.” Logan cleared his throat again. “I’ll see you Monday?”
That long? We have to wait until—
“Yeah. Monday.” I smiled, wondering when my mouth had gone dry. “Don’t work too hard, okay?”
He flashed a smile that made my whole body weak. “I won’t. Have a good weekend.”
“Will do.”
We locked eyes for maybe two seconds, and then he stepped back and shut the car door.
Watching him walk back into the building, I blew out another breath. When he glanced back and waved, I returned it, and didn’t even bother feeling sheepish that I’d been staring at him.
He disappeared inside, and I closed my eyes, letting my head fall back against the seat.
I wanted him.
There was no way around it.
I fucking wanted him.