Page 43 of Men of Fort Dale: The Complete Series

Then again, he hadn’t kept a lot when he shipped out for Basic shortly after hitting eighteen.

His brother had held onto some things, but most of what he had in his new apartment was what he’d accrued during the past six years.

That time had been split between deployment and being allowed back to the States to visit family and friends.

And now he was at Fort Dale. Possibly for good.

Sighing, he pulled his phone from his left jeans pocket and checked the time. He had an appointment to check in with General Winter in an hour. With his hip slowing him down more than usual, he would need more time to get ready, walk to the meeting, and still be a little early.

His dark hair was shorn close and looked perfectly respectable.

Although there were dark circles under his brown eyes, making them look even darker than usual, he was used to them.

His uniform was tidy, without any wrinkles or stains, and besides the slight stubble on his cheeks, he was presentable.

But he still wasn’t used to his arm.

Oscar stared at his right arm in the mirror, or rather his upper arm and half an empty sleeve.

Along with even more scars than before and the shrapnel in his hip, the IED had taken half his right arm with it.

From the elbow down, there was nothing, and every time he caught sight of it, or reached for something instinctively with what had been his dominant hand, or felt the strange itching of a limb he no longer had, what little good mood he had plummeted.

Before he grew too morose, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Tearing his eyes from his mangled reflection and pulling his phone out, he saw his brother’s picture and name flash across the screen, drawing a small smile as he swiped to answer the call.

“Gabriel,” Oscar said by way of greeting.

His brother chuckled. “You don’t have to answer your phone like you’re preparing for bad news.”

“Call it force of habit.”

“You might want to get some new habits.”

“You’re right. I’ll go out and find myself a yoga class, maybe take up meditation, and become a vegan.”

Gabriel snorted. “Aren’t you in a mood today? Hip bothering you?”

“My life is bothering me,” Oscar said.

“So that’s a yes.”

“It’s been a long day, Gabriel.”

“So, I probably shouldn’t mention that Anne and I planned to come see you in a couple of weeks?”

Oscar paused, frowning. “Why?”

“The hell do you mean? We want to see you.”

“You saw me a couple of days ago, Gabriel. I’ve been living on your couch for weeks.”

“The couch in the guest room, maybe.”

“Gabriel.”

Gabriel sighed, speaking quietly. “She’s worried about you and doesn’t want you to know.”

“There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Right, but you try telling her that.”

“I have, repeatedly.”

“And look how well that’s worked out for you.”

Oscar sighed, stepping into the living room and fiddling with a box. “You could have chosen a less stubborn woman to marry and have kids with.”

“The kids would also like to see you again. They miss you,” Gabriel added.

Oscar sighed. “Why? Again, three days.”

Gabriel laughed. “Because they’re kids, and they miss their uncle Oscar.”

Oscar shook his head, puzzled as ever to understand the appeal.

His seven-year-old niece and four-year-old nephew were admittedly adorable, something Oscar never thought about other kids, but it wasn’t like he was a great uncle, especially recently.

If he wasn’t sleeping off the pain and pills at the beginning of his stay at his brother’s, he was grouchy and antisocial for the rest of it.

“Natalie says she wants to have another tea party with you,” Gabriel said, a grin in his voice.

Oscar stopped fussing with the now open box. “I did not have a tea party with her.”

“My little girl is many things, Oscar, but she’s not a liar.”

“She promised she’d keep it a secret,” Oscar grumbled.

“She’s also absolute shit at keeping secrets.”

In the background, Oscar heard his niece call out. “Mom! Dad said a bad!”

Gabriel’s voice became muffled as he spoke. “Nobody likes a tattletale, Natalie.”

“You said not to say bad words.”

“I know. You’re not supposed to.”

Oscar shook his head as he listened to his brother argue with his daughter, knowing the cause was lost just as it would be if Gabriel were arguing with Anne.

As he listened to the familiar sounds of his family, Oscar continued digging through the box.

Most of it had been packed up long ago by Oscar himself or his brother when Oscar needed help.

It had been long enough that he’d forgotten what most of the boxes contained, but this one appeared to be pictures.

Idly flipping through, he smiled at the pictures of his brother and him when they’d been much younger.

At seventeen, Oscar still had a few more inches to grow and probably another eighty pounds of muscle.

The intervening ten years had not had much impact on Gabriel, though, and Oscar wondered how his brother looked almost the same at thirty-five as he had at twenty-five, albeit with a few more wrinkles.

Considering their parents had died when Gabriel was twenty, leaving him to care for a twelve-year-old Oscar, there should have been more than a few lines on his face.

The next picture stopped Oscar’s fingers, and he stared at it.

It had been almost six years since he’d seen it, and he’d honestly thought every piece of evidence from that time was gone.

But there he was, twenty-one years old and smirking at the camera, his thick arm wrapped around the shoulders of a shorter blond man who grinned wickedly.

Oscar wished he could say it had been forever since he’d last thought of Troy, but he’d often thought of him during his recovery.

His finger rubbed over the happy moment, caught by a camera handed to a stranger, as he and Troy enjoyed some free time on a beach far from the base at which they’d both been stationed.

It was one of those few moments when Oscar felt free and open to hold the man close, even stealing a kiss when he thought they were clear.

It had been a good vacation, and his heart squeezed as he remembered the fun days and tender nights.

Oscar watched Troy sprawled out on his beach towel, dozing in the sun and on display for anyone who dared to look.

Reaching out and touching the napping man was tempting, but Oscar didn’t want to wake him.

He was content to watch Troy sleep comfortably and not worry that someone they knew might spot them.

Troy stirred, foot twitching, and his eyes cracked open. “What are you doing?”

“Waiting to see how long it’s going to take before you get your lazy ass up,” Oscar teased.

Troy chuckled, stretching his legs out with a groan. “I wasn’t sleeping.”

“Sure you weren’t,” Oscar said, glad he was stomach down on his towel so no one could see his reaction to Troy's low noise.

“You were watching me sleep,” Troy said with a grin.

Oscar wanted to hate how easy it was to fall into those eyes as they opened wider, creasing at the corners from Troy’s genuine smile.

Losing his parents had driven a young Oscar to find ways to express his pain, and not always in the healthiest way, which usually involved trouble with the law.

It also meant friends bailed at the first sign of trouble, there only for a good time.

There was also a string of half-hearted relationships that involved just him and a girl using one another.

Trust was a commodity Oscar couldn’t afford, not when it came to anyone but his brother.

But Troy? God, it was so easy to melt under his warm smile and the softness of his touch.

“Alright, maybe I was,” Oscar admitted, smiling.

“Yo! Oscar!” Gabriel called, his voice ripping Oscar from his memories.

Oscar jerked. “What? Sorry, were you talking?”

“Yeah, I was, and you were off in outer space. You sure you’re okay?” Gabriel asked, concern leaking into his voice.

Oscar snorted, dropping the picture back in the box. “I’m fine, just tired, sore, and cranky.”

“So, a normal day then.”

“Your compassion is overwhelming, Gabriel.”

“Right, and if I showed you even the slightest bit of sympathy or compassion, you’d get all pissy and growl at me to fuck off.”

“I’m not going to tell you to fuck off,” Oscar said.

“Not directly, because I’d beat your ass when I see you,” Gabriel said, amusement heavy in his voice.

Oscar rolled his eyes. “Even with only one hand, you don’t stand a chance against me.”

“Your fancy training isn’t going to help you.’

Oscar grunted. “Wow, would you look at the time? Sorry, Gabriel, I’ve got to get going. I have a meeting with the general.”

“Of the base? Why, what the hell did you do?”

“Oh, thank you, Gabriel, for the vote of confidence.”

“I mean, he’s got to be a busy man. Why would he want to speak to you directly?”

“Well, I guess I’m going to find out. And maybe I’ll find out why he sent the offer of a position.”

“A position he hasn’t actually described to you, but you took anyway.”

“That’s the one.”

“Well, call me and let me know how it goes.”

“I will.”

He ended the call, giving one last glance at the box of pictures before closing it and heading out the door.

General Winter turned out to be considerably younger than Oscar thought. Every other general he’d met had been older. Some had grown so used to life behind a desk they’d let themselves go.

Winter, however, was a man whose age was hard to nail down.

He certainly hadn’t hit his fifties yet, but he could easily have been in his mid-thirties.

He was a handsome enough man, Oscar supposed, with a strong jaw, high cheekbones, and close-cropped salt and pepper hair.

The general also apparently believed in taking care of himself, filling out his uniform comfortably, not with fat, but muscle.