Oren’s voice cracked, and he rubbed a hand over his face.“I thought I’d buried it.Then that asshole this morning said something that dragged up other stuff I have been apparently suppressing.At least that would be the word my therapist would use, I am sure.”
Dale stilled, knuckles white around the grater.He didn’t speak, didn’t trust his voice.
Oren didn’t notice.He was lost in it now.
“He asked me if I’d ever been waterboarded,” Oren said, a bitter laugh escaping.“Like it was some kind of joke.Just tossed it out there like it was casual fucking small talk.And it all came rushing back.”
Dale swallowed hard, finally managing to speak.“What ...what came back?”
Oren looked down at his hands.They were trembling.
“Afghanistan.Being taken.The cell.The fear.The helplessness.The things they did to me, and, yeah, the fucking waterboarding.”He paused, then added quietly, “I’ve tried not to think about it.I’ve tried to pretend I was fine.”
Dale’s heart twisted.He wanted to pull him into his arms, to tell him he never should’ve been left behind.That it was his fault.That he was sorry.
But instead, he asked, gently, “Was it ...was it because of me and Ty?The kisses?Did that bring it up, too?”
Oren sighed.“Some of it, yeah.You gotta understand—my dad used to say that homosexuality was the devil’s work.That gay people were damned.That they were weak.I internalized that shit.Even when I started questioning myself.Even when I looked at Ty and thought maybe ...maybe I wasn’t as straight as I thought I was.It all came with guilt.With shame.”
Dale set the grater down in case he gave into the urge to throw it across the room and took a deep breath.
“But it wasn’t you two,” Oren added.“It wasn’t the kisses.Not really.It was what he said this morning.That’s what cracked it wide open.That’s what sent me spiraling.”
Dale’s jaw tensed.“What did he say, exactly?”
Oren looked up, eyes haunted.“Like I said, he asked if I’d ever been waterboarded.”
Ty strode into the room like a storm barely held in check.The moment Dale looked up and saw him, he forgot how to breathe.And from the sharp inhale Oren let out, he wasn’t the only one.
Ty wore his fury like armor, his eyes blazing, jaw locked.He was every inch the Marine again—dangerous, protective, and full of purpose.Dale recognized the emotion flashing in his gaze—loyalty, defense, and something deeper.Yeah, he could name it.Love.
“I need a name,” Ty growled, his voice laced with tightly coiled rage.He didn’t stop walking until he was toe-to-toe with Oren, gripping the arms of his chair, spinning him to face him.He pushed Oren’s legs apart with his knee and stepped into the space like he owned it.He reached up, cupping Oren’s face in his calloused hands.
“Tell me, baby.Give me that bastard’s name.”
Dale watched Oren swallow, his throat working before he managed to whisper, “Why?”
Ty’s scowl deepened.“Because your dad is already dead, and I can’t do shit about what that bastard did to you, but this prick is still currently breathing, and he hurt you.And it’s my right to hunt him down, tear him apart, and shove his balls down his throat.”
Dale snorted.“Such a vivid mental image, thanks for that.”
Oren’s expression softened as he wrapped his hands around Ty’s wrists.“By that logic, I hurt you.Doesn’t that mean Dale gets to do something equally horrific to me?”
Ty’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, the weight of Oren’s earlier words seemed to crash down between them.A low growl sounded from Dale’s side of the counter, and he was surprised to find it had come from his chest.
Both men turned to Dale.
He smirked.“I was thinking something a little more creative.Like an erotic spanking.Maybe some strategic use of teeth.”
Laughter broke the tension.Oren leaned up, brushing a kiss to Ty’s lips, soft and lingering.Dale felt the pull of desire in his gut as he watched—his inner voyeur more than pleased.
Then Ty turned, reached for Dale, and pulled him into a kiss, too—just as hot, just as claiming.Dale let it happen, allowed himself to be consumed, just for that moment.
“Smells amazing in here,” Ty said as he snagged Dale’s wine glass and took a sip.He turned to Oren with a nod.“We’ll talk more about what happened today.I’ll get that bastard’s name tonight.But for now—I’m starving.”
They moved together in quiet ease, setting the table, dishing up the pasta, pouring wine.The easy rhythm of familiarity settled around them.
And for the first time in longer than Dale could remember—he felt like this could be the start of something real.
