Warning

This book contains adult language and themes which some may find offensive. It is

intended for mature readers only, of legal age to possess such material in their area.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is purely

coincidental.

The Wounded

© 2013 by Eden Winters and Parker Williams

Cover Art by P.D. Singer

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without written permission

of the authors, except as brief quotations as in the case of reviews.

This story is based on characters and situations from Eden Winters' The Telling, and

Parker Williams' 500 Miles.

For Becky, the inspiration for this story.

 

On November 11

th

, 2011, Becky Condit opened a book review blog. The very first story

she reviewed was by a woman named Eden Winters. It was a tale called ‘The Telling’ and
brought Michael and Jay to the world. It was also the very first m/m story that Parker Williams
read and he fell in love with the characters. He wrote to Eden and that started a friendship that is
still strong to this day.

In 2012, Parker Williams wrote the tale of Mark and Jase, based on a call from MLR for

love songs on cassette. The story was based on the song 500 Miles, the name of the novella. It
became his first published work.

2013 marks Becky’s second blog-oversary, a cause for celebration. Eden and Parker were

delighted to bring their characters together in an exclusive story for Mrs. Condit & Friends. This
is that story. We hope you enjoy reading it as much as we enjoyed writing our boys again.

Eden & Parker


The Wounded

Chapter One

Jay stood in the doorway, a cup of coffee in his hands. “Just think about it, okay?” He

made the suggestion casually, like it didn’t really matter one way or another whether they made
the Veteran’s Day trip to Atlanta, but the taut set of his shoulders said otherwise.

Why did everyone insist on forcing Michael out into the world? He’d gotten past his

agoraphobia enough to attend classes at Avery University, and he dutifully parked his butt on his
counselor’s couch every Wednesday to work on his issues. What more did folks want?
Besides…“I’m not a ‘wounded’.”

Jay didn’t say a word. They’d had this talk before.

“If we go, people will look at me funny. I mean, c’mon, there’ll be guys there who’re

lucky to be alive. They’ll look at me—two arms, two legs, both eyes—and think I’m horning in
where I don’t belong.”

Again Jay remained silent. He’d made his arguments long ago.

Yes, Michael had been wounded in battle, but his wounds had healed, for the most part.

Sure, he’d never regain the hearing in one ear, and he still woke up screaming, but his war
wounds paled in comparison to some of the other veterans he knew. How many veterans had he
met who walked with prosthetic limbs and would never again lift their children with their own
arms? Those men and women’s sacrifices far exceeded his. He didn’t deserve to march with The
Wounded in the Veterans Day parade in Atlanta.

“Just give it some thought,” Jay said again. “We can still go hang out.”

The pressure in Michael’s chest lifted. Being out in the open, marching in formation,

brought back too many memories—few of them good.

Did Jay have to add, “But remember, this isn’t just for the living—it honors those who

gave their all in defense of this country”?

Shit. In other words, Jimmy—who’d fallen in battle in Iraq. An image of his friend came

to mind: red hair, freckles, mischievous grin. If marching would bring Jimmy back, Michael
would hike barefoot all the way to the White House. But it wouldn’t. What of Ryan? The lover
Jimmy left behind was in no condition to attend the parade. Michael released a defeated sigh a
split second before he actually made up his mind. “I’ll think about it.” His own lover smiled.

“That’s all I ask.” Jay underscored his words with a kiss.

***

A fist squeezed Jay’s heart. Michael’s forlorn expression nearly made him give in.

However, on this he must stand firm. Three years of therapy made a marked improvement, but
until Michael admitted he had a problem, they couldn’t move on.

Michael’s PTSD presented a struggle for Jay as well as for Michael. Thank God for the

online support group he’d found: Partners of The Wounded. For six months Jay had chatted
online with men and women who faced the same issues of how to care for and support someone
who’d been through the unimaginable. Thanks to the fall of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, he’d even
connected with another gay couple. Mark and Jase knew the struggles Jay faced with Michael,
and their advice kept him moving forward when he didn’t know what to do on his own.

When Jay grew discouraged, they picked him up. When he had good news to share, they

rejoiced with him. And they were coming to Atlanta for the Veterans Day observance. Up until
now Michael’d always said, “Yeah, that’s nice,” whenever Jay spoke of his new online friends,
never showing much interest in meeting face to face.

Jase was one of the injured Michael referred to as walking with prosthetic limbs. But as

Jase often said, “Wounded is wounded, healing is healing.” Regardless of if the injury was
internal or external.

According to Mark, they’d traveled a rough road with Jase’s recovery, but they were light

years ahead of Michael and Jay in some ways. Plus they were legally married. Damn, but Jay
wanted that with Michael, but Alabama was a far cry from Vermont. The best he and Michael
could hope for was a commitment ceremony.

The cramped apartment over the bookstore had been home since Jay’s student days and

Michael’s discharge. Wall by wall they were building their house on a piece of land Michael’s
grandfather had given him; move-in could be as soon as three months from now. Creating a
home from bare ground was a big commitment, but not big enough—Jay wanted to stand with
Michael before their friends and family to promise his life. Michael had to understand he was
promise-worthy, hearing loss and PTSD or no. Jase and Mark had fought the same kind of
adversity. Meeting them might, just might, convince Michael that he and Jay could do the same.

Now to get Michael to Atlanta.

***

“Put that away.” Michael frowned at the plastic-covered uniform Jay held in his hands.

“But you might want it for the parade.”

No. Never again would Michael wear those clothes. “I’m not a soldier anymore. And I

only said I’d go to Atlanta. I never said I’d march.” The disappointment in Jay’s eyes gave
Michael pause. Jay must think standing in formation amid a sea of other uniformed men and
women a small thing to ask, but his days as a soldier were over. Uncle Sam had said so,
softening the blow by letting him ride out the last few months of his enlistment rather than
issuing an immediate medical discharge. All because an explosion blew out an eardrum that
hadn’t properly healed.

Jay hadn’t mentioned the disappearance of Michael’s medals—one for being injured in

battle, another for saving the life of a brother-in-arms. Michael didn’t deserve recognition. He’d
done his duty, no more, but some unknown force always stopped him from dumping the symbols
of his enlistment in the trash. He’d hidden them in the display at Gramps’ house, tucked into the
case with the medals won by Gramps’ two brothers, who’d both died in Korea.

“Okay.” Jay’s smile showed signs of strain. “Jeans then? Or shorts?”

“Jeans and a T-shirt will be fine. And what you picked for the banquet.”

Michael fumbled under the bed for tennis shoes while Jay rummaged in the dresser for

shirts. Once he’d zipped both their duffle bags, he gave Michael a brief kiss. “Thanks for
agreeing to go. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.” He grabbed his car keys off the
nightstand. “I’ll bring the car around.” No question who’d drive. Loud noises still freaked
Michael out. Erratic drivers and blowing horns weren’t his favorite things. Neither was Atlanta
traffic.

With Jay out of sight Michael stumbled into the bathroom on shaky legs to stare at

himself in the mirror. “You can do this, Ritter. It’s only for a few days.” A bottle from the
medicine cabinet yielded up two pills that he popped into his mouth and washed down with
water directly from the faucet. Depositing the bottle into his jeans pocket, he surveyed the
apartment to ensure he hadn’t left anything. The uniform caught his gaze, left hanging on the
bedroom door. How proudly he’d once worn the trappings of his rank. No. Definitely, definitely
not. Never again.

***

Mark ran his hand over Jase's crisp dress uniform. The medals pinned to the chest caused

his heart to flutter as he remembered what Jase had done to earn them and what they ultimately
cost the man. He sighed and laid the clothes back on the bed.

"Marky?"

"Yeah, hon?"

"My prosthetic fell over. Can you give a guy a hand?"

Mark chuckled to himself, knowing that Jase didn't really need him for what he claimed.

He sauntered to the bathroom, finding Jase sitting on the bench, leering at him.

"We could just stay home, you know." Jase's voice was husky.

"Nice try. You promised we were going and that's what we're doing. I really want to meet

some of these people from the chat room. Especially Jay. He’s become a really good friend."

Jase ran a hand over his enticing erection. "Are you sure?"

Mark leaned into the shower and gave Jase a lingering kiss, stroking the hardened flesh,

causing Jase to groan loudly.

"I'll finish that for you when we get down to Atlanta."

Jase rolled his eyes. "You suck."

Mark's eyes twinkled. "I will later."

Jase finished his shower, lingering longer than Mark thought was necessary. He

understood that his husband was nervous. Terrified, really. The anxiety medication he’d been
taking for a month didn’t seem to alleviate his fears of being around people. Jase held his
emotions in check most of the time, but Mark could see the tremors when there were people Jase
didn’t know. The attack on his base made Jase leery in most surroundings, as if he was waiting
for it to happen again.

Mark sighed. Maybe he was putting too much pressure on Jase to do this. Maybe they

should stay home. He could always call up his brother and offer to babysit the twins so Eric and
Shannon could have some time to themselves. Mark startled when Jase cleared his throat and
spun to find him decked out in his Army blues.

“You clean up nice,” Mark murmured.

“Thanks.” Jase gave a cocky grin, leaning forward to capture Mark’s lips. Mark groaned

and pressed into the warmth. Jase brought his arms around Mark, holding him tightly. “I love
you, Marky. I want to do this for you.”

Mark stepped away from Jase’s embrace. “Don’t do it for me. Do it for you. This group,

The Wounded, they’re people like us. Some who gave everything to their country and those of us
who love them. Jay, the guy I’ve been talking with? His lover is like you. He’s afraid in new
situations. He has nightmares and flashbacks. He didn’t lose a leg, but he has PTSD. It used to be
so bad he couldn’t leave the house. During the Fourth of July fireworks, Jay has to take him to a
movie or out somewhere that he can’t hear them. You’re not the only one.”

Jase’s brow wrinkled and Mark knew he was weighing the words. Jase sighed and picked

up a suitcase. “What are we waiting for? I want to get down there so I can change into some real
clothes.”

Mark felt love and pride swell his chest.

“Atlanta, here we come.”

Chapter Two

“Nice room, isn’t it?” Jay flopped down on the queen-sized bed, donning his most

seductive smile.

Michael shrugged. Oh, not good. Their first out-of-town trip since they’d met, and

Michael appeared to have checked any semblance of a good mood at the state line. That didn’t
bode well for a possible Christmas visit to Jay’s folks this year.

He’d do what it took; hell he’d never leave their county, if it would help Michael. But it

wasn’t helping. While the man had come a long way in three years, lately he’d begun standing
still, and even going backward, losing hard won ground. In another year he’d graduate college.
What then?

“You don’t like it? I can look for something else, but I’m sure most hotels are pretty

much booked by now, due to the parade tomorrow.”

The corner of Michael’s mouth lifted, more of a grimace than a smile. “No, sorry, Jay.

The room’s fine. I’m just feeling a little out of place here.”

Oh shit. Instead of splurging on the Marriot Peachtree, maybe he should’ve booked the

Holiday Inn. Only, the Holiday Inn wasn’t hosting The Wounded and giving huge discounts to
veterans.

Michael sat on the edge of the bed, eyes downcast. “I know what you’re doing.”

Jay’s heart lodged in his throat. Please don’t let Michael insist on going home. He needs

this, we need this. He has to know he’s not alone.

“What am I doing, Michael?” The next moment could make or break all of Jay’s

carefully laid plans.

The bed shook when Michael flumped down, his blue-eyed gaze capturing Jay’s own.

His hand, callused from helping out on his grandpa’s farm, cupped Jay’s cheek. “You’re
watching out for me, just like you always have.” Jay closed his eyes and breathed out a sigh of
relief a moment before his lover’s lips connected.

The kiss ended too soon. Michael seemed to stare into Jay’s soul. Over the past few

weeks something had been building. Michael spoke less and touched less, sinking ever deeper
into himself. No way in hell would Jay sit back and watch the man he loved disappear.
Somehow, he had to get through. Though Michael’s immediate family and friends offered
unwavering support, he needed to understand that there were more folks like him, struggling day
to day to rebuild the lives that war had destroyed.

“You just don’t understand.” Words Michael spoke often.

The words shattered Jay’s hope. No, he didn’t understand, could never understand, what

it was like to watch friends die, and then have to return home pretend you were the same carefree
soul you were before you left. More than anything, Jay longed to understand, to be everything
his lover needed. “No,” he acknowledged, “but I know people who do.”

Michael didn’t answer with words, but with his arms, clinging to Jay as though his life

depended on the connection. Jay returned the embrace, fighting hard not to eye the clock. He lost
the fight. 6:05.

Following Jay’s line of sight, Michael sighed. “I know, time to get dressed and head

downstairs.” He’d never sounded so reluctant in all the time Jay had known him.

They dressed in silence, trading jeans and T’s for dress slacks and button-downs. Michael

paused several times to stare off into space. Each time, Jay grabbed him and held him until
Michael chose to pull away. “We don’t have to do this,” he’d say.

To which Michael always replied, “No, I don’t. But I need to.”

That you do.

***

Side by side they left their room and worked their way down the hall. The elevator door

opened and a woman stepped off. She gripped a white cane in one hand.

“I wonder what they’re serving at the banquet,” Jay said, moving aside to let her pass.

The woman stopped. “Hi! I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but are you talking about The

Wounded banquet downstairs?”

“Umm… yes.” The elevator door closed without them.

“Me too! I’m Lisle.” She shifted her cane to her left hand to hold out the delicate fingers

of her right.

“Jay Ortiz and Michael Ritter.” Jay shook her hand then released to let Michael follow

suit. “From Alabama.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m just going to freshen up then go back downstairs for dinner. I’ll

talk to you then?” She ended her sentence on a questioning lilt.

“Umm… sure.” Michael glanced down the hallway, unsure about asking if she needed

assistance. Sure hands dipped into her purse to produce a key card, which she slid into the card
reader in a nearby door.

The moment she disappeared into a room Michael hissed, “See what I mean? Huh? That

woman lost her sight! Her sight! She can’t see! Losing a little hearing can’t compare to that.”

“If you don’t want to do this—”

“Jay? Is that you?”

Michael appeared ready to bolt when two men approached, one bounding down the hall,

the other following a few steps behind with a shuffling gait.

“Mark? Jase?” The second man caught up at the moment the first wrapped Jay in a bear

hug. “Oh, man, it’s so good to finally meet you in person.”

“Hi, Mark.” Jay thumped the guy on the back.

Squirming began in the pit of Michael’s stomach to see his lover embracing someone

else. It’s his friend, numb nuts. Quit being jealous.

Mark released Jay and turned to Michael. “You must be Michael. I’m Mark, and this is

my husband, Jase.”

To his credit, Michael smiled and greeted the two men Jay’d told him about, even as his

gaze traveled downward to Jase’s legs, the stump and prosthetic hidden by stiffly pressed khakis.

“We were just coming to get you,” Jase said, “to see if you wanted to go downstairs with

us. Safety in numbers and all that.”

“Jase gets a little nervous around folks he doesn’t know,” Mark offered.

Jase gave his husband an affectionate smile. “And Mark chats up people in grocery

checkout lines. He’s never met a stranger.”

“Stranger? What’s that?” Only a few years separated Jase and Mark, but in that moment,

Mark appeared so young and carefree, that is, until Jase winced. “What? What’s wrong?” He
immediately hurried to Jase’s side.

“I forgot to turn the iron off.”

Mark blew out a relieved sounding sigh. “I’ll go get it.”

“No.” Jase locked eyes with Mark. “No, you three go on down. I’ll catch up.” He nodded

to Jay and Michael. “Meet you downstairs?”

A questioning glance at Michael received a nod. Oh shit. No way to back out gracefully

now, not with others watching.

“Should we wait for Jase?” Jay asked.

“Nah,” Mark replied, eyes on Jase’s retreating back. Though he shuffled a bit slowly, if

Mark hadn’t told Jay about Jase’s injuries, Michael would never have guessed that the man lost a
leg in the attack on his base.

Jay raised a brow in Michael’s direction.

Michael did his best to exhale slowly and not huff out a sigh. “Come on then, let’s go

find a table.”

“So, Michael,” Mark said, finally ripping his eyes from his mate, “Jay tells me you’re in

college. So am I. What’re you taking?”

They talked about school during the elevator’s descent. Michael took a deep breath when

the doors opened. A few people stood chatting in the lobby, but not enough to induce fight or
flight instincts.

Tasteful decorations in the banquet hall welcomed them. And not a military insignia in

sight. Some attendees dressed in business casual attire, like Jay, Michael, Jase, and Mark, others
wore jeans, and Michael spotted a suit or two. A dozen tables, each surrounded by eight chairs,
filled the room.

They sat down at an out of the way table. “Can we join you?” a man and woman, who

looked roughly the same age as Jay, Michael, and Mark, asked. Michael tried not to figure out
what infirmity found the newcomers at a The Wounded event.

***

Jase keyed into their room and slammed the door behind him. He rattled through his

suitcase looking for his anxiety medication. He slumped onto the bed, his breathing ragged.
Forgot to turn the iron off. Yeah, that was believable. He raked his fingers through his hair,
trying desperately to quell the panic. All those people, together in one room. Looking at him,
judging him because he’d only lost a leg, while others had lost multiple limbs, eyes, parts of their
faces.

He snapped the lid off the lorazepam and popped one into his mouth, swallowing without

water. He did some of the relaxation techniques he’d practiced with Mark until his heart stopped
trying to burst from his chest and he felt more normal. He sucked in a deep breath and made it to
the banquet room without a full blown panic attack. Mark turned and waved to him. It seemed
Mark was always aware of where Jase was. Jase gave a weak smile and strode toward the table.

“Did you get the iron taken care of?” Mark asked, reaching out to stroke Jase’s leg.

“Yeah, we’re good.”

Jase glanced up and caught Michael’s eyes. A moment of silent understanding passed.

Though Michael didn’t walk with a limp, the sympathy in his eyes said he understood. Perhaps
he did.

Chapter Three

Dinner was good. Creamy tomato bisque started off the fare, followed by a field green

salad, steak and potatoes, and some kind of chocolaty dessert that puffed up like a marshmallow,
but tasted like pudding.

Michael tuned into the conversation around him, content to hear from the others, only

contributing when asked a direct question. Jay knew the drill and handled the situation well.

Terri and Greg, the other couple at the table, had met in service, and looked each other up

once they were stateside.

“What about you two,” Terri asked, zigzagging a finger between Mark and Jase.

Jase flushed, but Mark spoke up without hesitation. “Jase here was my first and only

crush, and my brother’s best friend.” He bestowed an affectionate smile on Jase. “We were
meant for each other. He just needed some convincing.” The muscle twitching in his upper arm
made Michael believe that, under the table cloth, Mark had just squeezed Jase’s hand.

Terri gave a dreamy sigh. “And now you’re married.” She stroked her hand over Greg’s

shoulder.

“Yep. All legal.” Mark raised their joined hands to display his wedding band.

Michael glanced at Jay, who seemed riveted by the tale. Jay deserved a shiny band as

well as a home. Even if the state of Alabama wouldn’t acknowledge them legally at the moment,
the thing Michael wanted most in the world was to sweep Jay into his arms and ask him to spend
the rest of their lives together.

Now wasn’t the time, in a roomful of people. What if Jay said no? Michael still had a lot

of issues to work on, and naturally outgoing Jay might get tired of Michael’s wanting to hide in
the house all the time. He’d not even been home to see his folks in ages; especially since Michael
wasn’t ready to travel so far from home.

At the end of the meal a speaker approached the podium, breaking into Michael’s

thoughts. The woman Michael had met in the hallway stood beaming to one side. “Ladies and
gentlemen,” the speaker began, “although she needs no introduction, allow me to introduce a
special guest, Lisle Finney.”

Murmurs grew at a nearby table. “Holy shit!” someone hissed. “I didn’t know she was

blind.”

Michael shot a glance at Jay. “Who’s she?”

Jay’s eyebrows reached for his hairline, and then he frantically began punching buttons

on his iPhone before passing it over. The petite blond smiled from the screen, surrounded by
dozens of busts of men and women. Michael had gotten as far as “blind from birth” before the
lady herself called his attention back to the podium.

The woman from the hallway addressed the crowd. “I was born perfectly healthy, ten

fingers, ten toes. As I developed it quickly grew apparent that I wasn’t like other children. My
birth mother, feeling she wasn’t up to the task of raising a blind daughter, gave me up for
adoption.”

Oh shit. While Michael’s father hadn’t been up to the task of being a father at all, he

couldn’t imagine his mother giving him up for any reason.

Despite the harshness of the words, the lady smiled. “My adoptive parents couldn’t

understand the problem. You see, they say I was perfect, but you know how biased parents could
be.” A few people chuckled.

Her smile fell. “My birth mother did me a kindness. If I’d grown up with her, I might

have limited myself, as she saw limitations. Instead, I was taught there was nothing I couldn’t do.
Otherwise, who’d believe a woman who’d never seen a face could sculpt one?”

A trio of men entered from a door behind her, each carrying a likeness of himself—a

startling likeness.

She continued, “The first bust I created was of my uncle when he’d returned from Desert

Storm. He often babysat for me while he stayed with us during his recovery, and was indulgent
enough to sit for hours.” Another man entered, carrying yet another bust, this one of a man with
scars marring half his face.

Even from a distance Michael couldn’t miss the misty eyes or Lisle blinking back tears.

“He later told me that during that time he’d often thought of taking his own life, but stuck around
so I could finish my work.” She managed a weak smile. “I took my time. Since then I’ve created
twenty-seven works of men and women whose lives were forever changed by war.”

The men placed the sculptures on tables then found a seat in the banquet hall. “My uncle

credits me with giving him new purpose. He stopped mourning his losses and set himself to
helping others. May I introduce the great man himself, Raymond Finney, founder of The
Wounded?”

The man who rolled a wheelchair up to give Lisle a quick peck on the cheek appeared

normal from the side, until he turned and showed waxy scars over half of his face. Michael bore
a similar mark on his arm, caused by a bit of burning shrapnel. One hand remained in the man’s
lap. A blanket covered him from the thighs down.

The story Raymond told ripped at Michael’s heart. How had the man endured losing his

entire platoon, the use of one arm and his legs, spending months in the hospital, and still find
strength in his heart to surround himself with fellow veterans who also bore the scars of their
time in service?

“Here is the message I wanted to deliver to the world when I started The Wounded,” the

man said. “When you see us, with our wheelchairs, crutches, or one empty sleeve pinned to our
chests, don’t feel pity, for we don’t want or need your pity. Instead, reflect upon the sacrifices
others have made to ensure all of our freedom. Take pride in this great land of ours, as we do.
We did our duty and hold no regrets. Save your pity for those who have no voice, who live in
fear every day of their own governments. Where there is injustice, our nation brings balance,
where there is hunger, we bring food, where there is despair, we bring hope.”

The ever increasing pressure around Michael’s heart clenched hard, fear replaced by

pride unlike he’d ever known. Here he was, a simple country boy, once called a silly faggot by
his stepfather, and he sat with some of the finest men and women to ever wear a uniform. At the
end of the speech a string quartet played, first the Army’s anthem, then the Navy’s, then the
Marines’. It mattered not what branch of service the assembled represented, when the music
died, every voice joined together to proclaim, “Hoo-ah!”

***

“Michael? Are you okay?” Michael glanced up. Very few people remained in the room,

though a small group huddled around the artist, asking her questions. Most folks left to prepare
to march the next day. The other couple had left the table, leaving only Michael, Jay, Mark, and
Jase.

Jay had checked constantly over the last few hours, and Michael seemed to be okay,

though several times he’d noticed Michael’s hand in his pocket. More than likely, Michael’s
fingers clutched the pill bottle he sometime clung to like a small child seeking comfort from a
Teddy bear. A least he hadn’t taken one during the past three hours, or not that Jay had seen.

“Yeah, I’m fine. If you don’t mind, why don’t you go on up to bed. I’ll be there soon. I

want to talk to Jase a bit.”

Jay shifted his gaze to Jase, who nodded. Mark placed a hand on Jay’s arm, leading him

away. “Think they’ll be all right?” Jay asked once they’d left the banquet hall.

“They’ll be fine. I think they’ve been needing to talk for a while now. How about you,

are you okay?”

Jay nodded, though he wasn’t sure. He’d only wanted Michael to feel he fit in, to know

he wasn’t alone. Did hearing war stories bring back memories of fallen friends? “Michael lost a
good friend over there.”

Mark nodded. “So did Jase. For a long time he wouldn’t talk about it, but now he’s

starting to open up.” His eyes roved toward the banquet hall door. “As much as it hurts that he
can’t yet tell me everything, I hope that with Michael he’ll unburden himself to the
understanding ear.”

They bid each other good night and Jay went upstairs. He lay awake in the dark, waiting

to hear Michael’s key in the lock.

***

Jase watched Mark walk away with Jay and gave a silent thank you. He turned his

attention back to Michael, who fumbled with one of the napkins they’d used at dinner.

“You, too?” he asked softly.

Michael’s head jerked up. “What do you mean?” he snapped, then shook his head.

“Sorry.”

Jase smiled awkwardly. “Not big on crowds, right? I get the sweats when I go out. I work

late nights because it’s the only time there aren’t a lot of folks around.”

Michael nodded. “I’ve been in therapy for a while. If it wasn’t for Jay, I don’t think I

would have ever done it.”

Jase stood and moved to the chair next to Michael. “I tried to push Mark away. I didn’t

want him to see me since I thought I was…less than a man. The stubborn son of a bitch wouldn’t
let me, though. He saved my life, even if he doesn’t know it. I wanted to die. I’d lost my folks
when I came out. I wouldn’t have Mark, especially after what I did to him. I just wanted it to be
over. Eric, Mark’s brother, brought him to see me and Mark gave me holy hell.”

Michael looked around at the nearly empty dining hall before turning his attention back

to Jase. “Same with Jay. He pulled me out of the darkness and got me to stand on my own
again.” Michael blanched. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Jase laughed, deep and hearty. “Never thought you did.”

Michael scrubbed the side of his face. “It’s weird, you know? We get invited to this

because of what happened to us in the war, but those people who love us? They’re our heroes.
They won’t let us give up. Won’t let us lose out on having a life. Not everyone is that lucky, I
know, but when I think about Jay, I can’t imagine not having him in my life.”

Jase bobbed his head. “I know. That’s exactly how I feel.”

There was an awkward pause before Michael spoke. “What was it like?” he asked

quietly.

Jase didn’t answer for a moment. “I don’t remember much of it. I heard voices around me

and I hurt badly. I think I cried out for Mark, but I’m not really sure. When I woke up and they
told me my leg was gone, I knew the doctors were lying. I could feel that it was still there. After
they left, I looked and saw…nothing. It was like it was never even there. They patched me up
and sent me home, but I thought my life was over.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Michael said, his voice choked with emotion.

Jase reached out and grabbed Michael’s shoulder. “Thank you. Marky told me what

happened to you. I think we’re both just damn lucky.”

Michael nodded. “I’m really glad Jay forced me to come. Meeting you and Mark means a

lot.”

“Yeah, our guys are definitely stubborn. I’d hate to see them if they didn’t use their

power for good.” Jase looked at his watch. “I’d better get back before Marky falls asleep. He
made me a promise and I intend on seeing that he keeps it tonight.”

Michael chuckled, a knowing grin spreading across his face. “Hope you have fun.”

“See you tomorrow at the parade?”

Michael shook his head. “I’m not really good with those things. I think I’ll just sit in the

room and wait for Jay to come back.”

Jase leaned forward and grabbed Michael by the elbow. “You have to come. This parade

isn’t just for us, it’s for those who love us. Jay didn’t just bring you here to sit alone. He wanted
you to know how proud of you he is that you were strong enough to be up there for him. It’s why
I’m doing it for Mark. It’s my way to give him my thanks.”

Michael leaned back against the chair, rubbed his chin, and nodded. “Okay, but I’m

marching with you, and I expect you to keep me moving forward.”

“Deal.” Jase pulled Michael into an awkward hug. He felt Michael stiffen, then sigh,

before finally relaxing into it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Michael finally said, pulling away. He nodded toward Lisle,

who had finally broken free of her admirers. “I think I want to talk to Lisle a minute.”

“It’s a date.”

***

At long last the room door opened, emitting a momentary stripe of light to dance across

the comforter. Keeping his breath even, Jay pretended to be asleep, waiting to take his cue from
Michael. “Jay,” Michael whispered. “Are you awake?”

“Yeah, I’m awake.” He rolled over and opened his arms, letting Michael slide against his

chest. Michael’s breath ruffled his hair.

If Michael wanted to speak, he would, though by his own admission, sometimes he

wasn’t good with words. Instead, he roved soft lips over Jay’s eyelids, down his jaw, mapping
out his face with lips and fingers, as though memorizing every inch of skin, every ridge, every
plane. Was he imagining using only his other senses, not his sight, as the blind artist did?

Michael answered the unspoken question. “I spoke to the artist after you left. Damn, but

she’s good, without ever even seeing who she’s sculpting. Before meeting her I’d have called her
handicapped, but she explained to me that, using her fingers, she finds things in faces that eyes
might miss, the way someone’s mouth pulls up higher on one side, or how a nose might be flare
a bit more on the right than on the left.”

Mimicking Michael’s movement, Jay stroked his fingers down his lover’s cheek. He

found the dimple that stayed hidden except on special occasions, and a tiny scar from when
Michael fell out of tree when he was six. Each scar, each line, told a story of the man who bore
them.

They abandoned faces to work lower, and though they both sported erections, there was

nothing sexual in their touches. “Do you reckon that in the dark you could pick me out of a line
up?” Jay teased.

“Yeah,” Michael replied. “You have a scar here,” he traced an appendectomy scar, “and

here,” a lasting reminder of a mole that’d been removed.

“We all have our scars.”

“Yes, we do.” Michael grew silent for a time, fingertips still stroking Jay’s skin. “I guess

they’re just a part of who we are.”

“Yeah.”

More silence, then, “Why do you put up with me?”

“There’s no ‘putting up with’. I love you.” Jay pulled Michael close to rest against his

chest.

“But I’m not easy to live with. Look at how hard you had to work to get me here.”

“You came, didn’t you?”

“Dragging my heels.”

“But you’re here.”

“Thanks to you.”

“What did you think of Mark and Jase?”

“I can see why you wanted me to meet them. They’re nice guys.”

“Yes, they are.” Jay had once asked his papa how he’d proposed to Mom. “The time was

right and the words just came out,” Papa had said.

Holding Michael, gently caressing his skin, Jay’s heart filled to bursting. If the time

wasn’t right, it might never be. “You know they’re married, right?” he ventured.

“Cool! Too bad Alabama doesn’t allow that.”

Really? Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard after all. “No, they don’t. Not yet, but we don’t

need the state’s approval to live our lives together, even without the benefits of a piece of paper.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” The hitch in Michael’s voice might be a

good thing or a bad thing.

“If you’re thinking I’m asking you to be my husband, then yes. If that scares the hell out

of you and makes you want to run, then I’m just thinking about ordering coffee and dessert from
room service.” Please, Lord, let him say yes! Jay held his breath.

Laughter was the last thing Jay expected.

“What?” Oh God, he’d pushed too far and Michael’d lost his mind.

Through chuckles, Michael got out, “I was going to ask you tomorrow, after the parade.”

All traces of humor fled his voice. “That is, if you’ll have me.”

“Always. If you’ll have me.”

Lips replaced fingers on Jay’s lips, a kiss answering better than words.

Chapter Four

“Jase and Mark are waiting downstairs for us,” Jay said, smoothing down his T-shirt.

“Mark and I will be watching.” He crossed the floor the take Michael into his arms. “There’s still
time to back out if you don’t want to do this.”

Michael flashed a genuine smile, not the “I’m okay, y’all can quit worrying now” smile

he normally used, but an honest-to-goodness happy smile. Of course, Jay’d been grinning all
morning. “I promised Jase I’d march with him.” Michael glanced down at his T-shirt and jeans.
“I wish now I’d let you bring my uniform. Jase is wearing his.”

“Really? You mean that?”

“Yeah.”

Jay punched a few buttons on his phone. One of Michael’s brows rose in question. “Trust

me.” He occupied his lover with a kiss until a knock sounded. Jay opened the door to find
Gramps, holding a hanger aloft to keep Michael’s uniform off the floor.

“Can you believe this old things still fits?” Gramps asked, waving a hand to indicate his

attire, a uniform much older than Michael’s. He passed over the hanger. “Hurry up. We don’t
wanna be late.”

***

“Here’s a good spot,” Mark said.

Jay laughed. “I think over there is better.” Two red-haired women, one young, one older,

frantically waved from a few feet away. Jay led Mark to where Michael’s mother and sister
waited, in lounge chairs, removing a cooler and bags from two other chairs.

“Mark, I’d like you to meet Angie and Sarah, Michael’s sister and mom.”

The drone of their meet-and-greet dropped into background noise for, in the distance, The

Star Spangled Banner began. Angie and Sarah jumped from their chairs, placing their hands over
their hearts and Mark and Jay followed suit. The steady cadence of a bass drum pounded out a
marching beat, ending the national anthem and leading into Stars and Stripes Forever.

“There they are!” Angie shouted, hopping up on the cooler for a better look. Jay wrapped

an arm around her waist to steady her. The way she bounced up and down, she’d take a tumble at
any moment. Then he glanced up, and his breath caught in his throat. There was Michael, his
Michael, in full uniform, marching between Gramps and Jase, looking so much like the young
soldier Jay first fell in love with while studying a photograph and hearing stories told by an
adoring family. Michael had lived up to and surpassed every one of Jay’s expectations.

He kept his eyes on Michael until the three marchers vanished around a corner, and then,

as he turned away, he caught sight of another familiar face. Gideon Rafferty, Michael’s
counselor, kept time with a dozen other men about his age. He noticed Jay and winked, then
followed his comrades down the street, to cheers and “Thank you for your service.”

Only then did he notice Sarah slumped down in a folding chair, tears streaking her

cheeks. Oh shit. She’d come very close to losing her son. Jay dropped down beside her, taking
her into his arms. “Shhh…” he soothed. “It’s okay. Michael’s fine.”

“It’s not that,” she said, a watery smile belying her tears. “He texted me this morning.

Said y’all were getting married. I am so fucking proud of my boy.” For such a small woman, she
was terribly strong, and her embrace cut off Jay’s air. “Welcome to the family, Son.”

Epilogue

“I told you it’d be warm,” Mark told his husband, helping Jase out of his jacket. Back

home in Vermont the evening temperatures dipped into the teens at night, but here in Alabama
temps in the 70s weren’t unusual for November.

They stood in an apple orchard, surrounded by people they didn’t know, except for

Michael, Jay, Michael’s sister, Angie, and his mom and grandparents. Through the trees Mark
caught glimpses of a log cabin, recently built, that’d be Michael and Jay’s new home, a few
hundred yards from the farmhouse where Mark and Jase had spent the night.

Mark squeezed Jase’s hand, recalling their own vows. “That was us not too long ago,” he

whispered.

“Happiest day of my life. Except for every day since,” Jase replied as he stroked Mark’s

cheek. He cleared his throat before he asked, “Did you ever think we’d make it? After everything
I did to you—”

Mark cut him off with a kiss. “Old news. And I never doubted we’d be together.”

Jase’s eyebrows arched. “Okay, fine. I did for a while. I knew you were it for me, though.

I just needed you to see it, too. I fell so deeply in love with you and I worried that you’d never
feel the same way.”

“I did. When you were clinging to my neck at the pool, I wanted to kiss you so bad.

Tossing you into the deep end was one of the stupidest things Eric ever did, but it showed me
how much I needed you in my life. Leaving you was hard for me and Eric. There were times I
would have welcomed them kicking me out of the service, just so I could come back to you. I
needed you to be proud of me, though. I didn’t want you to be ashamed because I couldn’t be
strong for you. Then when the whole thing came to a head, I stuck it out, because I knew if I
came back, you’d never again look at me like you used to.”

Mark cuffed Jase on the side of his head. “Idiot. No one would have thought any less of

you. Mom and Dad still would have welcomed you with open arms. I would have been beside
you every step of the way. But remember, if you had come home, my brother might not be alive
today. You made sure my family wouldn’t suffer.”

Jase shrugged awkwardly. “He’s my family, too. When my folks told me they didn’t have

a son, your family took me in and made me part of theirs. I think it’s me who owes you.”

Mark chuckled and stroked a finger over Jase’s palm. “Oh, don’t worry. I think we can

work out a payment plan.”

Jase rolled his eyes and was about to make a comeback when a sound caught his

attention. To his left, Michael’s sister and mother sniffled. A stereo began to play, “May I Have
This Dance.” Michael and Jay stood together in front of their family and friends.

“Wow. Check them out,” Jase whispered.

Jay wore a dark blue suit, an ivory shirt, and a slender, light blue tie. Michael had put on

a suit coat that had belonged to his grandfather, which his mother had said she’d saved, knowing
one day her son would wear it. The coat was old and didn’t fit exactly right, but the man in it still
commanded attention. They approached from different sides of the people in attendance and met
in the middle. Jay reached out and took Michael’s hand in his, giving a look that radiated pure
love.

“Michael Aaron Ritter… ” Jay began, “everything that I am, all that I own, with all of my

being, I pledge my life to you.”