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“And how is this supposed to work?”

“The same way every relationship in the military works! You make it work. It doesn't matter what distance there is.”

And how was he supposed to do that? By writing letters back and forth? Making calls when they could to whisper sweet nothings? Yeah, right. There wasn’t a person in the world other than Troy who knew Oscar was gay, and Oscar was perfectly fine with that. He didn’t want anyone else to know. It didn’t matter if, legally, he couldn’t be treated differently or booted out. What mattered was that he would be treated differently.He would be treated wrong. Oscar had grown up watching what happened to those that were different.

That wasn’t going to be him.

“Oscar, don’t do this. Don’t end this because of…of some fear,” Troy pleaded.

“I’m not having this argument again, Troy,” Oscar growled.

Troy’s eyes flashed. “Why, because you say so? You’re being sent off, so you, what, get to say what does and doesn’t happen?”

“You don’t get to tell me if I get to end this,” Oscar shot back.

Troy clutched the back of the chair he stood behind, arms shaking. “No, but I get to tell you you’re an absolute shithead and a fucking coward.”

Oscar leaned back, stung. “What did you say?”

“I said you’re a fucking coward. You’re so goddamn worried about what everyone else will think of you, someone might look down on you that you can’t even be yourself. You can think you’re brave all you want because you ran with some criminals when you were younger and because you’re off to fight in the desert, but you’re still a goddamn coward.”

“Fuck you!” Oscar snarled, his hands curling into fists. “You don’t know the first thing about me!”

“I know you better than your own goddamn brother does. And I know you don’t want to walk out that door and leave everything behind.”

“Fuck this. I thought you could be an adult about it, but apparently, I was wrong.”

“No, you just thought I’d roll over and take it.”

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Oscar didn’t want this. He’d been prepared for Troy to try to change Oscar’s mind, to wheedle and cajole. Oscar hadn’t been prepared for Troy’s pain to turn to anger, to slap him in the face and send him reeling. Troy refused to back down, staring at him with openagony, but his mouth was twisted in anger, his words cut deep, and Oscar did the only thing he could think to do.

“I’m done,” Oscar said.

With that, he whirled around, turning his back on Troy and his apartment, and stomped out the door. As he gripped the door handle, prepared to yank it toward him and close Troy out of his life for good, Oscar glanced back. Troy’s face was a horribly perfect canvas painted with heart-wrenching pain and utter despair. Oscar’s chest squeezed, tearing at his heart, and he slammed the door shut before he allowed himself to give in.

Oscar shookhis head as though that might dislodge his memories and send them reeling back into the sweet oblivion of forgetfulness. The medicine was thankfully beginning to settle in, blurring the edges of his thoughts and making the memories quieter, less demanding. It wasn’t the perfect solution, but it was better than having his head pounding with too many things he didn’t want to deal with, and he sagged back against the couch to let the meds do their work.

His last thought, before being dragged into the oblivion of dreamless sleep, was wondering what the hell he was going to do. Every time he needed to have a check-up, anytime he was injured, he would have to go back to that clinic. When he’d agreed to come to Fort Dale, Oscar knew he was walking into a mystery and that he’d have to change his whole view of his military career. Not once had he imagined he would have to face the single greatest regret of his life.

Waking up groggy,out of sorts, and stiffer than he’d been in months, Oscar blearily looked for his phone. When he saw the time on the screen, he grunted and pushed off the couch with fumbling movements. The sleep meds were still dragging him down, leaving him listless and with no coordination, but he had to get to his shift, and he preferred to be early.

Showering and dressing as quickly as he could, Oscar cursed his inability to do anything at a decent pace. His mood was not helped when he discovered it would take twice as long as normal to walk across the base. His hip was acting up, leaving him with a heavy limp as he tried to make it on time.

Pushing through the double doors to the main building, Oscar hurried to the elevator and pressed the button. Usually, he would have taken the stairs, stubbornly refusing to do anything that would make it easier on him. There wasn’t time for him to hobble up the stairs, though, not with how slow his body was.

Stepping out of the elevator, he entered the lobby that served as the buffer zone between General Winter and anybody who entered. The lobby wasn’t as full as it had been the day Oscar had come for his meeting with the general. The row of chairs on each side was empty, but Christian, Winter’s receptionist, sat behind his wide desk beside the door to the general’s office.

Christian looked up from his computer, a smile gracing his face. “Well, good morning, Staff Sergeant, you’re early.”

“Force of habit,” Oscar grunted.

Christian nodded, pushing up from his seat. “So I’ve noticed. You were early for your meeting with General Winter too.”

Being late for anything drove Oscar crazy. Hell, being late for being early was the quickest way to get on Oscar’s nerves. It didn’t matter if it was for a doctor’s appointment, meeting friends, or his shift. Oscar firmly believed in showing up ahead of time. If someone or something kept him from that, his nerves grew jumpy, and he got short-tempered and grouchy.

Well, more so than usual.

“I’m alright with waiting,” Oscar told the receptionist.