Page 44 of Pages of My Heart

Charlie

Charlie climbs onto the bus outside Camp Ellis, bag slung over one shoulder, barely hanging on to his composure.

If anyone bothered to look, they would see that the hand not gripping the strap of his bag is shaking and his breathing is shallow.

His skin shines with droplets of perspiration and his heart pounds against this ribcage, like it’s grown too big for his chest.

It’s been nine weeks since he watched Thomas wave him off at the bus station in Chicago.

Charlie’s long days of training have kept him occupied, but no words can convey the depths of loneliness he’s felt without Thomas by his side.

He’s not ashamed to admit—at least not to himself—that there have been nights when he’s silently cried himself to sleep, times when he’s woken up, body slick with sweat, and reached out for his sweetheart, only to find his hands empty and his hopes dashed.

But today, on this overcast Friday in May, Charlie will set his eyes upon Thomas once more.

These will be their last days together before he is deployed overseas.

He’s ready to fight—he can handle his rifle with expertise, and he’s become the fittest and strongest he’s ever been—but the unknown is terrifying.

How long will he be at war? Will he survive?

Will he be wounded and left a broken man?

How will Thomas cope alone if he becomes ill?

And the worst question of all—will Thomas wait for him?

Charlie knows with every fiber of his being that Thomas loves him, and loves him deeply.

But he’s only a man, and a man has needs.

If Charlie is gone for years, how can he expect Thomas to wait at home all alone?

It seems like a cruel thing to ask, and yet Charlie wants so desperately for Thomas to wait, to remain faithful, to never stray.

Because there is no other man for Charlie—Thomas is his, and his for life.

If Thomas were to leave him, there would be no other.

Charlie would serve out the rest of his days alone, and he’s at peace with that.

They pull onto the highway that will take them to Bloomington, and the excitement of Charlie’s fellow soldiers becomes a palpable thing, buzzing around the bus like a swarm of bees.

It’s a two hour drive, and they’re set to arrive around 1800 hours.

Thomas should be on the train from the city by now, or perhaps he’s already arrived.

Charlie doesn’t know the details, only that Thomas has promised to be there to meet him.

They had been given five days’ notice for their forty-eight-hour leave, and Charlie had used his phone privileges to call Thomas and tell him the good news.

They were allowed only five minutes per call, so Charlie had stuck to the essentials.

Thomas had noted down the time Charlie’s company would arrive in Bloomington and promised he would figure out how to get there and where they could stay.

Charlie got one extra thing in, and that was to wish Thomas happy birthday—belated by only one day.

He planned on wishing him a very happy birthday in a more thorough way once they were alone.

“Hey, Charlie, what’s up with you today? Why ain’t ya raring to go?”

Charlie turns to face Joey, the most rambunctious of the lot. “I fuckin’ am. Just wish this bus could get us there faster.”

Joey moves from across the aisle and takes the seat next to him, speaking in a hushed tone.

“You gonna see if you can pick up some townie tail? Some of us boys are going to a dance tonight. We heard the girls are pretty loose in Bloomington.” Joey nudges Charlie with his elbow and gives him an exaggerated wink.

“Damn sure I’ll be getting lucky before any of you clowns.

I’m staying with an old buddy who moved out here from Chicago.

He’s already got a girl lined up for me.

Going on a double date with him, his lady, and her best friend.

Apparently, she’s a real looker with big—” Charlie mimes a pair of large breasts with his hands and winks back at Joey.

“You lucky bastard! Damn, Miller—you better tell me all about it.”

“You betcha, Joe. Now fuck off. I wanna catch some z’s so I got the energy to give it to her good”—Charlie grabs his own groin to be sure his intention is clear—“if ya know what I mean.”

Joey slaps him on the back and stands. “Oh yeah, Miller. It’s all in the hips.

” He thrusts the air wildly, all the boys breaking into raucous laughter.

Charlie laughs too. He can’t say Joey is wrong—it is all in the hips.

Memories of Thomas rolling his pelvis as they fuck filthily in their bed sends blood rushing straight to his cock.

Dropping his cap down over his face, he leans against the window and shuts his eyes.

Only ninety minutes to go. He can make it.

The final twenty minutes of the bus ride feel more like twenty hours, and no matter how many times Charlie checks his wristwatch, it doesn’t move any faster.

His limbs begin to shake again, his skin tingling with anxious anticipation.

A huge part of him just wants Thomas’s arms around him, that familiar weight on top of him, and that throbbing hardness inside of him.

But he just as badly wants the time to simply look at his husband, to hear his voice and just be near him.

For a few moments Charlie panics, worried that after such a long separation, Thomas will forget himself and embrace him in front of the other men.

Even kiss him. Charlie hadn’t had time to concoct his story before he’d phoned Thomas, so Thomas doesn’t know what lie he’s supposed to go along with if the situation arises.

Finally, just a few minutes past six o’clock, the bus pulls into the station.

Charlie tries not to look out the window too eagerly, and he holds back as the boys start to disembark, letting the others move off before him.

He’s on the verge of tears, his emotions so heightened he feels he’s becoming unhinged.

His throat is bone dry and his stomach is in knots.

Climbing down the bus steps, he looks up and down the road but doesn’t see Thomas anywhere.

Charlie will collapse right here on this fucking sidewalk if Thomas hasn’t made it.

“Hey, Miller . . . you coming with us?” Joey asks, slapping him lightly on the arm.

“Nah, man. I told ya—I’m meeting an old friend. He’s puttin’ me up for the weekend.”

“Fuck yeah, forgot. Okay, well maybe we’ll see you ’round town.”

Joey and the others start to disband into smaller groups, heading off in different directions. “Hey, Joe,” Charlie calls out. “Don’t forget to use a rubber!”

“You too! The world don’t need any mini Millers running around.” Joey laughs loudly and Charlie rolls his eyes, smiling as he flips him off.

He’s eager for all the boys to be on their way so he can find Thomas.

Placing his bag down at his feet, he adjusts his cap, eyes searching the road in both directions as he tries to spot a flash of red hair.

The bus that brought them here starts to pull away and Charlie gets a better look at the other side of the busy street.

And there, leaning against a lamppost like a real-life Rick Blaine, is his Thomas.

Charlie can tell by the smile on his face and the softness in his gaze that Thomas spotted him some moments earlier.

He’s dressed in his best navy suit paired with a forest green tie, his hat tilted perfectly to one side.

He’s effortlessly handsome, suave, and elegant, and Charlie’s breath becomes stuck somewhere between his lungs and his throat as he watches him bring a cigarette to his lips, inhale deeply, and then tilt his face up to the sky, breathing out the smoke.

Shaking himself from his stupor, Charlie picks up his bag and steps off the curb, striding across the road.

“Knew you’d make it,” he says, breath finally forcing its way out of him in a rush.

Thomas steps off the curb too, mindlessly tossing his cigarette to the side and taking a few steps toward him.

The pull is magnetic. His desire to throw himself into Thomas’s arms is unbearable, almost beyond his control.

They stop, nearly touching, their eyes locking onto each other in wonder. With a longing heart and his eyes filling with tears, he repeats, “I knew you’d make it.” It’s only then that it dawns on him that part of him had doubted it.

Thomas pulls the hat from his head, holding it over his heart and whispers, “God himself couldn’t keep me away, my love.”

“I missed you, sweetheart.” His hand moves instinctively toward Thomas, but he catches himself and retracts it quickly.

Thomas nods, eyes roaming all over Charlie’s face, then down the length of his body and back up to his eyes. “We have a room. It’s about a twenty-minute walk out on the edge of town.”

“Let’s go.”

They walk in near silence, exchanging only heated glances, their chests heaving from their growing lust. Charlie is wound up so tight he thinks he might snap if their pinkies so much as graze, but there are far too many people around to drag Thomas into an alley like they did when they were younger.

So instead, they walk as fast as they can without breaking into a run.

Thomas points when the motel comes into view. “Up ahead on the left. Room twelve. The one on the end.”

Thomas

Thomas fumbles with the room key, his hands shaking as he tries to fit it into the keyhole.

His mind has been on sex all day, all the ways he wants to take Charlie apart playing in his mind on a loop the entire train ride from Chicago, but right now, now that Charlie is actually right here in front of him, he realizes all he wants is to look at him and hold him and breathe in his scent.

Finally getting the door open, he pulls Charlie inside, tosses his hat, and slams and bolts the door behind them.