The admiral looked impressed, greeting him warmly, and Cam was doubly surprised.One, that they hadn’t gotten any shit, including from the admiral, over their relationship.And two, that Nic had so fully embraced their no-more-hiding decision.He suspected the former was a testament to the respect Nic had earned as a SEAL sniper, then JAG attorney.As for the latter, they’d revealed their relationship to friends and family two months ago, officially moved in together, and Nic had filled in a2on the RSVP card for tonight’s event for Nic’s commanding JAG officer’s retirement.
It had been everything Cam wanted and more, and so far, without any blowback.
On Veterans Day, Nic deserved to be honored as well.Celebrating the victories, as he’d told Nic they needed to do more of, and Cam had another celebration in mind for here at the party, before the naked celebrating they’d do in private later.He waited until the admiral moved on to other guests, then tangled his fingers with Nic’s, tugging him off the rail and into the crowd.
“You need another drink?”Nic asked.
“No, I need something else.”
Nic trailed close beside him, snaking his arm around his waist.“There are no stairwells open to below deck.They’re all roped off.I already checked.”
Good to know he wasn’t the only one dealing with a case of want-to-jump-my-boyfriend.He kissed the underside of Nic’s jaw, inhaling his spicy aftershave.“Want to hold you close and do something else.”
The crowd parted for them at the edge of the dance floor, and Nic slammed on the brakes, shaking his head.“Nuh-uh, no way.”
“Whatexactlydo you have against dancing?”
“I don’t do it.”Nic’s gaze was locked on the parquet floor, some memory giving his eyes a pained gleam.Cam had thought Nic’s aversion to dancing had more to do with his inner control freak, but that look on his face indicated something else.And only encouraged Cam to press.Nic had helped him past some of his biggest fears; Cam wanted to return the favor for the man he loved.
Positioning himself between the dance floor and Nic, Cam slid his hands under the hem of Nic’s jacket and flared his fingers over his hips.“That’s a lie.”He coasted his hands farther back, teasing the top of Nic’s firm, round ass.“I’ve seen you at Gravity, moving to the music when you think no one’s watching.”Cam swayed, trying and failing to move Nic with him.“Dance with me, baby.”
Torture flared in his eyes and tinged his voice.“The last time...”
Cam lifted a hand, cradling his cheek.“So it’s not that you can’t dance?Or that you don’t want to?”
Nic nuzzled his palm.“There’s nothing I don’t want to do with you.”
Heart swelling, trying to beat out of his chest, Cam followed it to Nic’s lips, capturing them in a soft, gentle brush.“Don’t think about the last time,” he whispered.“Just think about this time here with me.”He moved again, a slight shift of his feet, and Nic swayed with him.
Cam wanted to cheer.He wanted to celebrate like his seventh-grade-self had done after his first middle school dance with no injured toes.Nic’s small, relieved sigh made him want to do it all the louder—on the dance floor.He wove their fingers together again and pulled Nic forward.
One shiny wingtip hit the parquet, then Nic froze.
“You can do—” Cam started.
“Call.”Nic brandished his phone, the screen lit with an incoming call from Aidan—Cam’s FBI partner and their friend and landlord.Cam muttered an Irish curse at the Irishman for interrupting, but if it was about work, the house, or their cat Aidan was pet sitting, they needed to know what was going on.Cam rolled his eyes with a nod, and Nic, smiling, lifted the phone to his ear.“Talley, what’s up?”
A moment later, Nic’s lean, muscled frame stiffened, his smile vanished, and his hand around Cam’s tightened, nearly cutting off his circulation.“When?”Nic clipped, then, after an answer Cam couldn’t hear, said, “We’re on our way.”He meant it too, hauling ass toward the exit, dragging Cam behind him.
Picking up the pace, Cam darted in front of him, needing Nic to slow down and explain what the fuck was going on because his own mind was careening along the road of worst-case scenarios they dealt in far too often.The mix of fury and unguarded pain on his lover’s face made him stumble back a step.“What’s happened?”
Nic’s grip was bone crushing.“My father is dead.”
Not every story got a happy ending.
Nic had resigned himself to his own unhappy ending decades ago.There wasn’t a happily ever after out there for him.But over the past two years, his luck had seemed to turn.There were enough Irishmen in his life to make it so and enough signs that pointed to a proverbial pot of gold.The something special he and Cam were building—living together, working cases side by side, hanging out at the brewery—had lulled him into a false sense of security.
It was too good to be true.
Standing over a sheet-covered body in the county morgue, Nic felt his newfound life, his hope of a happy ending, burning away like the remembered desert heat.
“You ready?”Aidan asked.The FBI Special Agent in Charge stood on the other side of the table next to the coroner.
When Nic didn’t reply, a hand settled on his lower back.“Maybe we should go home,” Cam said.“Get some sleep and come back in the morning.”
Nic shook his head, licking his lips and forcing moisture into his parched mouth.He hadn’t pulled every string in the book to catch a military lift to DC so they could make the last flight out to San Francisco to not get this over with as soon as possible.His father wasn’t going to be any less dead five hours from now.
“Go ahead,” he said with a nod to the coroner.
