Epilogue
WYATT
Present Day
Five years flew by for Wyatt. Several of his SEAL brothers slowly migrated from the navy to join him in the private sector. Hamish’s former teammates joined them, as well.
Their company shifted focus from merely providing security assessments and solutions to offering protection to non-profits like Doctors Without Borders. They’d formed multiple teams so whenever one group had to be overseas, another would be in their office in Cardiff. He’d only returned from a trip to a region destroyed by flooding a few hours earlier.
While the others in his group returned to their office built in an old warehouse, Wyatt drove straight from the airport home. He still couldn’t believe he’d managed to convince Aled to move in with him. They’d bought a home together outside of the city, but not too far for him to be able to go to work.
It had been another twelve months before Wyatt attained dual citizenship. He’d celebrated by asking Aled to marry him. In November, they’d have their first wedding anniversary.
Pulling up the drive, Wyatt walked through the house, tossing his bags into the bedroom before heading into the back garden. Aled had initially worked at the university, but decided he wanted the freedom to perform the studies that interested him and publish his findings on his own. They’d cleared a space at the back of their property to build him a shed that had more equipment than the average laboratory.
Wyatt utilised all his SERE training to sneak up on his husband. He caught Aled around the waist and swung him away from where he’d been staring up at his notes on a whiteboard. “You didn’t even flinch.”
“Saw you in the reflection.” Aled smiled against Wyatt’s lips when he leaned in for a kiss. “You’re early.”
“Missed you. I told Trace to drop the paperwork on the Hamster’s desk.” Wyatt stumbled backwards toward the door, pulling his husband with him outside through the garden. “A month is way too long to go without you.”
“Don’t get too comfortable. We’ve been invited to a club opening tonight.” Aled extracted himself from Wyatt’s arms and wandered into the cottage. “Freddie came for tea to tell me about joining up with Doctors Without Borders. He’s going on the trip to Yemen that Hamish is handling.”
“Why would I spend my first night home at a club opening?” Wyatt grabbed Aled by the arm to lead him down the hall to their bedroom. He wanted to take advantage of their large shower—and his husband. “Well?”
“Hamish might beat someone up.”
“He might what?” Wyatt had known Hamish for over a decade and could count on one hand the number of times the man had lost his temper and struck someone—and he’d still have several fingers left. “Why?”
Aled shrugged, turning his attention to slowly unbuttoning his shirt. “No idea.”
Wyatt’s eyes immediately narrowed. His husband had worked hard at recovering from the incident. He’d slowly returned to his cheerful, overly talkative self. “Aled.”
The brown eyes Wyatt loved so much sparkled with mischief. Aled tossed his shirt over his husband’s head and darted by him toward the shower. Fine. Questions later. God, I’ve missed him so much. He followed him into the bathroom, shedding his clothing with each step. The sight of that luscious tanned skin quickened his pace.
He took his husband hard and fast against the tiled wall of the shower. Still dripping with water, they migrated to the bed for a second round of reconnection. They slowly took each other apart, lovingly putting the pieces back together, and finally collapsed on the bed side by side with their arms and legs intertwined.
“Wait.” Wyatt lifted his head off the pillow after contentedly dozing for an hour. “Why is Hamish punching someone?”
Aled twisted around on his side, long hair shielding his face from view. “Remember Tens?”
“The massive Samoan dating the nurse?” Wyatt had met the man once and been impressed by him. He dismissed the muttered “He’s Maori and Scottish” from Aled to focus on something important. “Why would the Hamster punch Tens?”
“Not Tens.”
After a bit of prodding and tickling, Aled got to the point, admitting that one of Tens’s friends had gotten into a verbal altercation with him. They’d met while having coffee with Freddie to discuss holistic medicine that might help cancer patients. The man—Scottie—had apparently made comments about Aled’s hair and his scars; Hamish had taken immediate offence and dragged the man out of the café to have words with him.
“When is this club opening?” Wyatt decided they would most definitely be attending. He might even see if his SEAL brothers might enjoy coming with them. “We wouldn’t want to be late.”
“Wyatt Hardy.”
“Aled Hardy.” He smirked at his husband, tugging lightly on his hair. “What? What’s the worst that could happen?”
“Wyatt.”
THE END