Brock eased back, his nose rubbing against mine. “I don’t think I can keep doing this.”
He started into my face. His eyes darted from one feature to another as he slipped off my chest. I rolled toward him, pulling him into my arms so we were facing one another.
“I figured you were getting ready to say that. You’re my best friend, Brock. My brother. My teammate. How will I get through this life without you by my side?” I asked selfishly.
I was a complete piece of shit. I knew it.
“I’ll always be your best friend, your brother, and your teammate, but I cannot be your sidepiece any longer,” Brock whispered. Emotion roughened his voice.
Confusion had me reeling. “Sidepiece? Brock, there isn’t anyone else. I’ve not dated or fucked anyone in five years. The last person I fucked other than you was Carly. You’re not a side piece. You’re the only piece.”
Brock’s eyes widened. His breath whooshed out all at once. His mouth opened and closed several times. “I didn’t think you were fucking around. At least, I hoped you weren’t. But…”
I waited. Brock’s ADHD made him say shit without thinking a lot of the time, but there were times, like now, when the filter that failed him regularly kicked into overdrive.
When I was still waiting several minutes later and Brock showed no signs of continuing, I prompted, “But…”
Brock closed his eyes, sighing. “You say I’m not the sidepiece, but I am, because you’re committed to the teams. Married to them. Whereas I’d leave to be with you. Since I don’t see you ever making that decision, I stay.”
I considered what he said, wondering if there was something out there that could fulfill me the way being a SEAL did. I knew so many guys who’d left that twisted in the wind because they couldn’t adjust to a normal way of life. I didn’tknow if I’d ever be able to live life working an average Joe job, but the thought of living life with Brock was tempting.
I thought about it. Waking up next to him, taking him out to dinner, living with him, sharing dinners, holidays, birthdays… The mundane shit that most people hated and SEALs rarely experienced because we were off somewhere in the world fighting to make sure everyone back home got to live all those mundane things in relative safety.
“Spell it out for me. What’s your best plan?” I asked.
Maybe he had something up his sleeve that would surprise me.
“I don’t fucking know,” he said defensively. His voice was sharp and edgy. “I didn’t waste my energy on a plan because I knew you’d never consider it.”
“So you want me—us—to walk away from our life’s dream job on a whim and a prayer?” I asked, utterly fucking baffled that the man even thought that was an option.
“I fucking want you to choose us, damn it!” Brock shouted as he rushed to his feet and stalked away from me. “I want you to walk toward a life with me.”
“We have twelve years until we can retire with our pensions. If we leave now, we’re gonna need a fucking plan. As much as I love swallowing your cum, we cannot live on sex and fucking pipe dreams!” I yelled back at him.
Brock stalked back to the wheelhouse, yelling at me as he went. “Fuck you, and fuck this! I’m done. You deny your feelings for me, you reject mine, all while fucking me every chance you get. From this point on, get your rocks off without me. I’m not a plaything that can be put on a shelf and taken down when you have an itch that needs scratching.”
CHAPTER 10
BROCK
SUMMER 2009
I jumped in my truck,heading for Adam’s place. I didn’t know what the hell was going on, but I was good at following orders.
When I hung up the phone, Foster looked around the room.
“Go get your shit together. The admiral doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
As everyone filed out of the house, he grabbed my shoulders and said, “Go get some of Adam’s shit. Grab any gear he has at home, and bring anything he considers a comfort.”
My eyes widened. “I thought…”
Foster shrugged. “I did too, until the admiral called. Don’t get your hopes up. I just want to be prepared. Just in case.”
I nodded, but hope swelled without permission and would not go back into the box I’d been keeping it in. I took a couple of deep breaths as I shut the door behind Foster. I walked to the spare room.
I loved this room. My own personal gun room. I had a couple of gun safes and a large L-shaped workbench. One side was filled with all the shit I used to load ammo, and the other side Iused to design and make tactical gear. I even had a commercial sewing machine. Then, off in one corner, were my leather tools, which I’d only recently gotten into.
