“I might could come. Happy to meet your crew.” Wes’s voice was jovial, but his eyes never lost their tension.
God, Dustin wished he could talk to Wes after this, tell him that for all his LT’s faults, he was a fair guy—he wouldn’t put up with any harassment if Wes wanted to be more open. Couldn’t tell him that Curly probably wouldn’t care if he said he wasn’t interested in the girls, couldn’t tell him that he might have an easier time being out around here, talk more like they used to about these sorts of tricky situations. But of course he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Couldn’t even give him a supportive glance right then.
“You’ll see,” Bacon yelled down from his perch. “You’ll fit right in.”
Fit right in. Dustin had never felt less like he fit in anywhere—still wasn’t used to his XO role and working with this LT, missed socializing with his friends, who were all paired off now, missed being a part of base life even though he liked his condo and little boat, and missed his late-night conversations with Wes more than he’d ever thought possible.
Chapter Seven
“You were spectacular today, Get Lowe,” Bacon said as they walked back to his truck, clipping him on the shoulder. Bacon apparently thought Wes needed a nickname and was intent on trying different ones out for him. “Still can’t believe our final burst of speed.”
They’d won the obstacle course challenge at the very last hurdle, thanks in part to Wes’s skills with the rope net at the end of the course. Dustin’s leadership had been good, of course, keeping them organized and on-task, but Wes was going to take a bit of pride in showing off with his new team.
“You sure you want to ride back to base with me?” Bacon unlocked the truck, which was a jacked-to-all-hell four-door Chevy that would have fit right in back home in North Carolina. “That one friend of Curly’s girlfriend... I don’t know, man, but she seemed kinda sweet on you. You could stay and talk later if you want. Someone will run you back.”
“Nah. My sleep schedule’s all fucked-up because of the move still,” Wes lied, but not really. He had been sleeping for shit, even worse than usual. Not having Dustin or even the prospect of Dustin to talk to online really zapped his nighttime routine.
“Understandable. I’ve got a charity run tomorrow in the morning with some friends or I’d stay myself. Getting old.” Bacon patted his nonexistent gut before putting the truck in gear. He wasn’t that old—probably a couple of years on Wes, but not yet a chief. He was tall and lanky to Curly’s short and burly, which gave the tight friends a bit of an odd couple vibe, but Wes was just happy to be accepted on the periphery of their large social circle. It sucked being the new guy, and it was nice not to be drinking alone on a Friday night. But as usual, a few hours of socializing and Wes was done, ready to get back to his room.
“So you got a girl back in Virginia?” Bacon asked as they headed back toward base. “Because if so, just tell Curly to have Rachel’s friends lay off.”
It would be damn easy to lie, but that wasn’t how Wes usually handled this. Fake girlfriends were a lot of work. And it wasn’t that he was closeted exactly—if he was dating a guy seriously, he’d figure out how to tell people. And back at Little Creek, a few people had known—his closest buds, but it just wasn’t something he discussed with the team as a whole. “Don’t really date,” he hedged. “Job keeps us too busy, and we were deployed most of last year.”
“Oh don’t I know it,” Bacon chortled. “My last three friends-with-benefits went and got themselves something steady when we were overseas. Three. Man, my luck. And I heard about your deployment. That’s why they sent you to us—apparently you’re like The Bomb.”
“Ha.” Wes forced himself to laugh at Bacon’s cheesiness. And he noted that Bacon had stayed gender-neutral in referring to his hookups. He was probably someone Wes could trust, down the road, assuming he let himself get close to anyone here. He wasn’t sure he would—missing his old friends hurt like a bastard. He’d been with a number of them since BUD/S, and having all that familiarity ripped away sucked.
“I can’t wait till they get us out on the range again, let you show us your stuff.” Bacon had apparently had enough talking about dating and was on to blowing stuff up. Much better.
“Me either,” Wes said and meant it. He loved doing his job, loved being out in the field, and there was nothing quite like the rush of either making something explode at exactly the right tenth of a second or defusing it in the nick of time. He might hate the move, but he was still a SEAL, and he still got a rush thinking of their upcoming bomb range training out in the desert.