21 Marine Salute: 21 Always a Marine Tales (54 page)

“Thank you for coming.” The Marine stepped back and gave him a smile. A faint scar sliced through the flesh of his lip and up to the crease of his smile, one corner of his mouth didn’t quite curve up as much as the other. His black hair, cut in a high and tight fashion, framed his fine bone structure from chiseled cheekbones to his broad forehead. Of course, the double knot in his nose ruined the Michelangelo’s David effect, but Liam preferred the raw man to the marble.

“You’re welcome. Wasn’t expecting the invitation.”

Understatement of the year
. Backing off another step, Liam tapped some ash into the nearby tray. Thankfully, the cigar gave him something to do.

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t sure I would ever issue it.” The blunt, forward honesty gave him another reason to respect his oldest friend. Brenden Fitzpatrick never said anything he didn’t mean. He used words sparingly and with much greater effect.

An awkward silence ballooned around them. Liam compressed his lips, biting his tongue against the acidic question burning the end of it.

“Spit it out before you choke on it.” Brenden advised with an easy grin. His hard, gorgeous face looked a lot more comfortable with this situation than Liam felt, shocking since he normally took everything in stride.

But this was Brenden.

He jammed the cigar between his lips, grasping at the mundane activity. “Why?” He exhaled the smoke. “Why now? Why me?”

“Fair questions.” Brenden glanced over his shoulder as more newcomers arrived, handing off their keys and cars to the valets and making their way inside. They were alone on their little patch of sidewalk. “I missed you.”

It was a good answer.

“You ever hear of picking up a phone?” Liam lifted his brows and snuffed out the cigar in the sandy circular tray.

“I wanted to see you.”

Everything about him radiated control. He didn’t slide his hands into his pockets, lean, or slouch. His back remained ramrod straight, legs firmly planted—and Liam shouldn’t have thought about his legs because, even encased in denim, their shape and musculature drew the eye. He almost couldn’t wait to see if his ass matched the rest of the package, but he forced his attention back to Brenden’s face.

“Are you giving me shit because you can? Or is the invitation serious?” He braced to hear a joke or even a lame excuse.

“Serious as a missile strike. I’ve waited a long time to ask you out. I’m done waiting. But I figure you might need some time, you know, to adjust to the idea. So…drink?” Brenden gestured to the club. “I bet they have wine coolers.”

The droll humor at the end of his invitation and the crooked grin warming his already kind eyes tipped the scales. Liam had prepared for every eventuality except Brenden being serious.

“Yeah, I think I might need something a little stronger than a wine cooler.”

Laughing, Brenden gave his shoulder a firm squeeze. “Then the drinks are on me.”

Liam was still trying to wrap his mind around the whole concept when he led him into the club.

Brenden leaned back in the chair. They chose a table near a wall and, as if by long habit, he and Liam chose opposite sides, both turning their chairs back against the wall. It gave them a better view and they could still talk. A waitress greeted them and when Brenden ordered a beer, Liam held up two fingers.

“Make it two.”

“Since when do you drink beer?” The man had hated it in high school—called it dog piss and refused to touch the stuff. He preferred his buzz to come from fine wines and expensive liquor.

“Things change.” His easy, generous smile suggested his sense of humor remained intact. “You do realize it’s been a while, right?”

“Yeah, smartass. I’m aware. Thanks for the update.”

He studied the man across the table from him. Always the leaner of the two of them in high school, Liam once claimed he would never look like a man, but that meant he could play his baby face for all it was worth. Somewhere between graduation and now, he’d become a man—his baby face had developed a roguish charm right down to the twinkle in his eyes.

Despite the easy smile, sexy dimples and humor—wariness lurked beneath the gleam in his gaze.
Doubt
?
Irritation
? Brenden couldn’t put his finger on it. The waitress brought over their beers and offered food, but they both declined. Alone again, the silence stretched.

“Look, Liam….”

“I wanted to say….”

The words collided and rolled over each other. For the first time since arriving, self-consciousness tangled with Brenden’s tongue. “Go ahead.”

“Okay. It’s good to see you—and I mean that—and I hope you’ll pardon the bluntness….” Despite the careless fall of hair across his forehead and the startling blue of his eyes, Liam pinned him with a hard look. “But since when are you gay?”

“Since always.” He’d expected the question. Frankly, he would have been shocked if the other man hadn’t asked.

“Bullshit.” His old friend took a long pull from the beer and shook his head slowly. “I’ve known you too long to buy that. You pretty much nailed every available tail in high school.”

“Because I was supposed to.” Brenden sighed. He’d made his peace with his actions a long time ago. “That’s what people expected—what my Dad expected—and I’m sure on some level what I expected. Be good at sports, like girls, graduate, enlist, and serve my country with distinction. Four out of five isn’t bad.” His attempt at humor fell flat.

“If you want to be flippant—fine. I’ll just finish the beer and head out.” But he put the beer down and pushed it away. Brenden’s hand snapped out to take his before Liam could rise.

“Stay.” The order came out harsher than he meant and he blew out a breath. “Please.” They stared at each other and the tension in Liam’s posture relaxed. He sat back, but Brenden didn’t release his hand. “I’m not being flippant. I’ve always known—just like I always knew I couldn’t act on it.”

Liam turned his hand over beneath Brenden’s and interlaced their fingers, obviously testing him. “Okay, I’ll skip the cliché of asking why you thought you had to hide it from everyone else and ask the really pointed question of why did you hide it from me?”

“Because you were as subtle as a brick shithouse.” Holding hands felt right. It snapped on a light inside of him that’d burned dim for too long. “And far too fucking charming. Not telling you meant I didn’t have to act on any crazy impulses, or worse, have to break it off when I wouldn’t change who I am.”

“That’s almost too good to be true.” He let go of Brenden’s hand, and reached for his beer again. “You know, magazine material. I had a crush on you all the way through high school and actually toned down so I wouldn’t scare my one decent straight friend off.”

Snorting, the Marine gave him a skeptical look. “Wearing a full-on evening dress to prom to make a political statement is not toning it down.”

“I said I toned down my crush. Not toned down my behavior. You were who you were and so was I.”

“True enough.” Brenden laughed. The taffeta nightmare had looked both ridiculous and adorable at the same time. Liam may have been lean, but he stood tall, only an inch shy of Brenden’s six foot three frame. The dress stopped at his calves, shaved for the occasion. “I just thank God you didn’t wear heels.”

“Not my finest hour. Those flats did nothing for my figure.” The wry cattiness made Brenden laugh. Liam drew a circle on the table with condensation from his bottle. “You know, they don’t ban gay couples at the dances anymore.”

“No, I didn’t know. That’s cool.” He mulled the idea over. He couldn’t imagine it. The world didn’t judge as harshly anymore, but it still judged. “That’s actually really cool. Must take some brave kids to do that.”

“Yeah. You know, sometimes I think it was easier to be that flaming queer, out to make everyone uncomfortable. I could go as far over the top as I wanted because that’s what others expected.” He shrugged. “But my dress-wearing days are over. I prefer power suits and comfortable shoes.”

Shaking his head, Brenden caught the waitress’s gaze and pointed to their beers and held up two fingers. She nodded and gave him a quick wink. He let the flirt pass and glanced back at Liam. “I think you just liked making everyone else uncomfortable before they did it to you.”

“I may be guilty of some of that.” Liam admitted. “So what about you? Still playing G.I. Joe?”

“Yes. Are you playing the prick because I’m making you uncomfortable?” Brenden stretched his legs out, and they paused as the waitress cleared away the finished beers and delivered two more. She gave him another flirtatious smile, and he ignored it again.

“Hell yes, you make me uncomfortable.” Liam sat forward and stripped off his coat, setting the jacket on the back of the chair next to him. He’d filled out since high school, his broad shoulders stretching the fabric. The dress shirt beneath the exact shade of his eyes. “You’re not supposed to be gay and so easy about it.”

Lowering his beer, Brenden squinted at his friend. “And you’re not supposed to be so…whatever the hell this is. Nervous?”

The abrupt change of subject obviously bothered Liam. “You know, let’s talk about the Marines. How is that going for you? Moving up the ranks?”

“Dude—relax. We’re just having a beer.” He held his hand out in invitation. “Catching up. It’s okay. Really.”

He brought it up again. “Oddly enough, that doesn’t make me feel better. You’re supposed to be straight.”

“Why am I
supposed
to be?” Brenden refused to let the rejection bother him. He’d expected some resistance, but nothing like this.

“Because you’re
that guy
. Top of your class, great athlete, smart, sexy, funny, and stand-up guy. You didn’t let bullies get away with shit, and you were the first to volunteer for every Tom, Dick or Sally social cause someone came to you about. You were perfect. The perfect guy to dream about—perfect and untouchable.”

The fervent declaration took Brenden back. “I was not perfect,” he argued.

“Yeah, you were. Tiffany Hutcherson comes to you and says the varsity cheerleading squad lost at district every year because all the other teams had guys on them. You signed up to help her out. And as soon as word got out, four more guys signed up, including two of the school’s top jocks. Matty Peterson lost her house in that freak storm, but she lacked popularity and no one really signed up for that fundraiser and rebuild project until you did.” Liam ticked off his list on his fingers. “Jaime Zales flipped out at school because a local shelter closing meant two hundred animals would be put down, and you led a school walkout to pound pavement and get every dog adopted and took the last three ugly ass mutts home to your mom when you couldn’t find them a place.” He leaned forward and pointed his fingers right at him. “Perfect. You were
that guy
the one every girl dreamed about….”

It was Brenden’s turn to feel uncomfortable. “They all needed to be done. It wasn’t about trying to impress anyone.”

The other man threw his hands up and laughed, seeming to settle down for the first time since they’d walked into the club. “And that, my friend, proves my point. You stated, categorically, at every career day, that you were headed for the Marines. You knew who you were and where you wanted to be. The rest of us flopped around like fish on a shore while you parted the waters with smooth sailing, demonstrating how it should be done.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, sobered and finally took the hand Brenden offered. “You liked me for me, you watched my back, and you didn’t get all weird when I did. You were my hero….”

“Yeah?” He locked his grip on Liam’s. “You were mine.”

Speechless, Liam couldn’t pull his gaze away from the intensity in the Marine’s expression.

“I thought that would shut you up.” Brenden’s slow grin took a devastating toll on his self-control. “You see, I knew where I wanted to go, and I knew what was right, but it didn’t always mean I could be all I am and achieve both. You took risks and said, ‘fuck you world if you don’t like it.’”

“I actually don’t know what to say to that.” The last traces of wariness released his soul and he squeezed Brenden’s hand.

“Okay. Then how about we just catch up? Talk about today—or, better—talk about tonight.”

The flirtatious comment threatened to leave Liam without words once more, so he laughed. “You start.” That seemed safer than flipping open the toy box on all the things he’d thought about doing with Brenden over the years.

“All right.” Music filtered through the speakers and the din of the crowd rose in a soothing hum. Letting go of Liam’s hand, Brenden turned in the chair so he could sit forward and rest his elbows on the table. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything.” Oddly enough, he really did. “Boot camp. Deployment. We see a lot on the news. My mom still talks to yours so she throws me dribs and drabs of when you’re out of country—well, as much as your mother shares.”

Hard to ask for more without tipping to a deeper interest, so he tucked that part away—locking it up into the closet of might-have-beens where it lingered, dusty and half-remembered—till the invitation arrived.

“Are you seeing anybody?” The giddy bubble of feeling popped and his smile faded. “Are you seeing anyone?” He repeated, trying not to stare at Brenden’s hands, but he hadn’t noticed a ring. Of course, not all men wore them.

“Telling you everything might take a while and no, I’m not seeing anyone. I have had a few nights here and there over the years. But nothing long-term, nothing concrete. You?” The steady answer did more to soothe the knee jerk, gut reaction than anything else.

“I was. We broke up last year.” Thankfully, answering didn’t open that wound, the disappointment and regret of the relationship having healed into a scar. He could appreciate the good times and not dwell on the bad.

“Bad breakup?” Concern filled Brenden’s face, and that was the chokepoint where Liam’s feelings for the man always bottled up. He cared. He always cared—if the Marine could do something about it, he would.