Page 47 of Men of Fort Dale: The Complete Series

Troy was distracted by the sudden display of Oscar’s naked body.

His tanned skin caught the afternoon sunlight leaking through his bedroom window, the dark hair on his chest and stomach glistening.

There was a faint sheen of sweat on his muscular arms and broad chest, the byproduct of the rather intense sex moments before.

“That’s what I thought,” Oscar said with a laugh.

Troy launched a pillow at him. “That’s not fair. You cheated!”

“And how did I do that?”

“By being all...sexy and on display.”

Oscar bent down, holding himself up on the bed with his hands. “You’re insatiable, you know that?”

Troy rolled onto his back, breath catching as he lost himself in Oscar’s dark eyes. “Yeah, but you love it.”

Oscar chuckled, bending to kiss him. Affection, warmth, and any show that Oscar was crazy about Troy were saved only for those moments when they were alone.

Yet Troy could never bring himself to care too much, not when Oscar was kissing him so deeply he felt he would never be able to breathe right again.

“Sorry,” Oscar muttered once they were in the hallway, stepping back to give Troy room.

“It’s fine,” Troy said softly.

Shaking himself mentally, Troy led Oscar down the line of examination rooms until he stopped at the one nearest the entrance to the clinic.

Holding his tablet, he gestured to the exam room without looking up.

His stomach twisted as Oscar stepped into the room.

Troy closed his eyes, waiting until Oscar was up on the table before finally following him in, bracing himself for what was sure to be an awkward conversation.

“I didn’t know you were stationed here,” Oscar told him.

Troy snorted softly, closing the curtain. “I didn’t know you were the new person coming in. Dean always tells me I need to check the appointments, and I guess that came back to bite me in the ass.”

“Dean the other guy?”

“Yeah.”

Oscar’s dark eyes searched his face, sucking in his bottom lip.

Troy frowned. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re doing that lip thing, which you only do when holding back from saying something.”

Oscar’s lip popped out of his mouth with such suddenness it might have made Troy laugh under other circumstances. “It’s nothing.”

“Right,” Troy said, not buying it.

“Yeah,” Oscar grunted, brow furrowing.

Troy knew that meant Oscar was getting irritated, but he chose to ignore it.

He returned to his tablet, pulling up the file attached to the appointment.

At the top of the list of relevant information was a note from the last time Oscar had seen a doctor, including the words ‘full recovery.’ Troy blinked, looking up, and his breath caught as he realized what he was seeing.

“Your arm,” Troy breathed.

Oscar pulled his right arm closer to him as though it would conceal the missing half of his limb. “Just now noticed?”

“I was a little distracted by the ghost reappearing in the doorway,” Troy said, stepping forward.

Oscar drew back. “It’s fine.”

“Don’t do that,” Troy snapped.

“Do what?”

“Pull away from me, shut me out.”

Oscar’s frown deepened. “Are you talking about us as people or as doctor and patient?”

Troy took a deep breath, reminding himself where he was, when he was. It had been over six years since Oscar had walked out of his life, slamming the door behind him and never looking back. Yet being around him again made Troy act like it was still six years ago, and they were still something.

Troy cleared his throat, turning back to the tablet.

As much as he would have preferred to hear the story from Oscar, Troy browsed the information in his file.

Charts popped up, along with reports, and he flipped through them, dread and horror curling in his gut as he read.

Troy knew, just as anyone who served did, that life came fast, and pain and death could come even faster.

“God,” Troy muttered.

“Yeah, thanks.”

Troy winced at Oscar’s words, glad the man couldn’t see his face. Jesus, an IED.

Clearing his throat, Troy spoke as evenly as he could. “Undress down to your underwear, please.”

He used the time while Oscar did as he was asked to continue reading the medical report.

Nothing he read assuaged the ache in his chest as he poured over the extended hospital stay, the frequent surgeries, and the drawn-out recovery.

Oscar was, by all accounts, back on his feet and ready for duty, but damn, he’d been through hell and back before he got there.

“Done,” Oscar said.

Troy braced himself, turning to face Oscar, and suddenly, he realized a few things all at once.

One, there were a lot more scars on Oscar’s body than the last time Troy had seen it, and they couldn’t have all been from the IED.

Two, the missing half of Oscar’s arm, while clean and healed, sent another ice pick of pain through Troy.

And finally, worst of all, Troy realized the damage done to Oscar’s body, and the time the two of them had been apart had done nothing to dull the desire Troy felt for him.

Oscar’s face was tight as if he were fighting to keep control. “I know.”

Troy shook his head. “It’s not?—”

How was he supposed to finish that thought?

How could he explain that, despite the fact that the scars littering Oscar’s body and the missing arm pained Troy, it was the sight of Oscar’s body that drew a tremor of need out of him?

Despite thinking he’d moved on and buried Oscar and their relationship in the past where it should have been all along, Troy realized the grave hadn’t been deep enough.

Yeah right.

Troy forced a professional smile. “You wouldn’t be the first injured person I’ve had in here, and you won’t be the last. So quit looking at me like I’m about to hold your hand and tell you everything will be okay.”

“I wasn’t thinking that, but good, don’t.”

“Yes, we wouldn’t want you to have a human moment where someone cares about you, now would we?” Troy asked, setting the tablet aside.

Oscar glowered at him. “I see your bedside manner hasn’t gotten any better.”

“And getting hit by a bomb did nothing to improve your bad attitude. We all have our challenges in life,” Troy said as he stepped forward to begin the examination.

Oscar continued glaring at him as Troy examined the arm with as much professionalism as he could muster. Scar tissue had formed, but overall, it looked like the surgeons had done a neat job. The other scars on Oscar’s body, Troy noted at a glance, weren’t quite as neat.

Oscar broke the silence with a soft snort. “You always did like to give me shit.”

Troy poked and prodded, testing for sensitivity along Oscar’s body. “Maybe if you weren’t always such a shit, I wouldn’t have to.”

It was almost funny how Troy liked to bitch to Dean that Sloane was such a grump when the first and only love of Troy’s life was no different.

Oscar’s resting face seemed only a twitch away from a dour scowl, and he spoke with a deep rumble that could have been a growl half the time.

He didn’t come off as intimidating, but he certainly had a way of driving people away, especially with his mistrusting attitude.

Everyone but Troy, that was.

Troy was careful around Oscar’s sides, remembering the man’s ticklishness. “Any lightheadedness or nausea from the meds?”

“Not anymore, not since they cut back on most of it,” Oscar said, a strange look in his dark eyes.

Troy nodded, feeling along Oscar’s thighs. “Since you’ve been off the meds, have you experienced any unexpected pain?”

“No.”

“Stiffness?”

“No.”

Troy looked up, frowning at the hesitation. “If you have, I need to know.”

Oscar’s jaw tightened. “No.”

Troy sighed, stepping back, more than prepared to lecture Oscar.

The man had always been so damned stubborn about taking care of himself.

Troy had found himself on the edge of exasperation and despair every time he tried to figure out if something was wrong, even if it was something as simple as a headache.

Then he looked down, and his lecture died in his throat.

“Ah,” was all he could manage.

The front of Oscar’s black boxer briefs had a very noticeable bulge. Apparently, Troy hadn’t been the only one struggling to stay in control while examining Oscar. Troy had to suck in a breath as memory and reality collided, and he found himself staring at the thick outline.

Troy stared at the beast of a man with a cock to match and snorted. “What the hell am I supposed to do with that?”

Oscar’s laugh was deep and throaty. “Well, I was kind of hoping you’d put it in your mouth.”

“You have such a way with words, Reyes.”

“I aim to please, Boaz.”

Troy reached out, caressing Oscar. “I guess that’s why man invented lube.”

Oscar leaned forward, cupping Troy’s face in a sweet and possessive grip. “I’ll be gentle.”

Troy smiled, never having doubted it for a second.

Oscar cleared his throat, jerking Troy from his thoughts. “So, no pain, no discomfort, no...stiffness.”

Troy raised his head quickly, adopting a neutral expression as though his cheeks weren’t flaming. “So, no signs of withdrawal, and you’re not suffering, good.”

Keeping his eyes at chest level and higher, Troy returned to what he was doing.

Neither spoke as Troy listened to Oscar’s lungs and checked his blood pressure and the lymph nodes in his neck.

He checked Oscar’s throat and pupils, carefully kept his eyes where he needed to work, and tested his reflexes.

“Seems like you’re doing just fine, other than what we’d expect from someone half a year after almost getting blown up. You’re lucky this didn’t happen a few more years from now,” Troy noted.

“Why’s that?” Oscar asked.

“Once you hit thirty, you don’t bounce back as easily. As it is, you managed it at the tail end of the best years for it,” Troy noted as he picked up his tablet and began tapping.

“That’s...not comforting,” Oscar said.

Troy looked up, smiling sadly. “Do you want me to be comforting?”

Oscar blinked before his frown returned. “Can I put my clothes back on?”

“Yeah.”

Troy nodded, not surprised in the slightest. For all the progress he once made to get through Oscar’s prickly barriers, he’d never got close enough.

Oscar forever held himself separate from others, and Troy hadn’t learned that until it was too late.

There was no comfort to offer Oscar, no hand-holding, and no grief to share.

There was only Oscar, impossible to connect with, determined to growl and stomp.

“Are we done here?” Oscar asked as he pulled on the last of his uniform.

“Yeah, you’re free to go. General Winter will be happy to know you’re in top shape,” Troy said, keeping the air of professionalism.

Oscar didn’t wait for Troy, practically running to the curtain and opening it to step out into the hallway.

Troy followed as Oscar made for the doorway, his steps stuttering and noticeably slower than the last time Troy had seen him.

Troy watched him, telling himself this was for the best, and kept his lips closed tightly.

As Oscar stepped out of the clinic doors and into the sun, he stopped.

Troy’s heart beat a heavy staccato rhythm as Oscar turned and looked back at him.

It was only for a moment, but it was long enough for Troy to see pain and indecision in the man’s face.

God save him, it was just like the night Oscar had left before being shipped overseas, and Troy felt his heart rip in two all over again.

And then Oscar was gone.

Troy didn’t know how long he stood there, staring at the double doors, until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Sucking in a sharp breath, Troy whirled around to find Dean behind him, a concerned frown on his face.

“What’s up?” Troy asked in a rush.

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Dean said.

Troy forced a smile. “He’s right as rain, fit for duty. You can look over the report to make sure I didn’t fuck it up and send it on to General Winter.”

Dean hesitated. “Um, sure, but?—”

“I’m going to go do inventory,” Troy said, pushing past Dean before he could finish whatever he was going to say.

“You hate inventory,” Dean called after him.

“It’s on the list,” Troy called, holding the tablet over his head and wiggling it for emphasis.

He hurried down the hallway, past the office, and, pressing a sequence of buttons on the keypad, slipped into the supply room. Troy shuffled forward, placing the tablet on a shelf. Resting his hand on one of the metal shelving units, Troy bent and took a slow, calming breath.

“Fuck,” he muttered, voice cracking.

Tears threatened, burning his eyes and closing his throat tight.

He’d pushed all this aside, beat it into submission, and denied it a place in his heart.

Without Oscar around, Troy had figured out how to move on, live his life, have some fun, and just be himself again.

Just seeing Oscar’s face, the score of battle scars and wounds, and that same agonized expression as he left was too much.

Troy sucked in a sharp breath, shaking his head. “No, we’re not doing this, Troy, no.”

Shoving his pain aside, he bore down on his emotions and wrangled them into his grasp.

The tears retreated, and while it was still harder than usual to breathe, his chest didn’t feel like it was in a vice anymore.

Straightening, he reached for the tablet, opened the inventory list, and returned to work.

He wasn’t doing this again, no more.