Page 111 of Point of Contact

“We’ll discuss the situation later tonight,” Jesse went on, still in that hard voice. “Until then, I want you to finish what I asked you to do, which was to plan our fucking camping trip. Is that clear? I want routes, supply lists and an itinerary ready for me when I stop by your place after work.” He paused. “Is that clear?”

“Lima Charlie.” Watty sounded stronger, more in control. “Loud and clear. I—I’m sorry, Byrne.”

“Apology accepted,” Jesse said evenly. “I’ll be there about five, and I’ll bring pizza.”

They hung up, and Jesse pushed his sandwich away before dropping his head down on his folded arms, praying he’d done the right thing. In Afghanistan, before a mission, they’d all learned to manage their fear by focusing on their orders, and Watty in particular had thrived when he was given set and specific tasks to carry out. Hopefully by taking him back there Jesse could distract him from the anger he was taking refuge in in order to cope.

As Jesse was finishing up his shift, his phone rang again. This time it was Karen, and Jesse was beyond relieved when she told him she’d be back to work the next day.

“Mom’s mostly out of danger, and my aunt was just able to fly in, so she’s gonna take over. Believe me, I’ll be more than happy to get out of this stupid hospital room.”

“I bet.” Jesse filled her in on the restaurant happenings the previous few days, saying ruefully, “I’m gonna need a few more days off myself, K. Got another friend in crisis.” He explained about Watty and the camping trip. “Maybe it’s stupid, but I just feel like getting him out of town somewhere, where he’s relying on himself and his skills again, might help him think more clearly right now.”

“It’s not stupid. Oh my God, at my last TAPS meeting we had a speaker from this place called Hope Ranch, up in Boulder. It’s for wounded warriors and their families, and one of their programs is an outdoor survival thing that sounds just like that. Getting people out in the wilderness, working together...”

“Helping them feel useful,” Jesse finished quietly. “Bringing back that feeling of brotherhood that we all miss. Yeah.”

“Well, it’s a thing. And, Jess, take all the time you need. If you were anyone else, I’d fire your ass, but I have a soft spot for you, dammit. You remind me of...” She trailed off, and Jesse knew she was thinking about her brother.

He cleared his throat. “I have even more respect for you after trying to do your job these past few days. Hopefully I didn’t FUBAR everything up.”

“Nah, you didn’t. Cindy told me you’ve been a huge help,” she said, referring to the assistant manager. “You’re the best.”

They spoke for a few more minutes, and after they’d hung up, Jesse wrapped up the last of the inventory he was working on before going in search of Cindy to let her know he was taking off.

He made a quick stop to grab a large pizza, and soon Jesse was knocking on Watty’s door, relieved to see that he appeared pale but composed, and most important of all, sober. As they ate Watty outlined his preliminary camping plans, and Jesse was impressed by what he’d accomplished in only a few short hours.

“Good work,” he said. “Now I’m looking forward to this trip even more.”

“Enriquez says he’s in, too,” Watty said, obviously pleased by the praise. “I left a message for Silvera but haven’t heard back.”

“Great.”

He didn’t bring up Sami, and Jesse didn’t ask. As he got ready to leave, he handed Watty a couple hundred dollars in cash. “Will you do some research and get me a decent sleeping bag? REI or Cabela’s, if possible.”

With promises to do his best, Watty bid him goodnight, and Jesse headed for his truck, relieved the visit had ended on such a cautiously optimistic note. He swung by his apartment and packed some things, his thoughts turning to Trevor. A rush of longing swept over him, and he drove as fast as he dared, enjoying the quiet thrill he got as he let himself in to Trevor’s house with his new key. He poked around until he found him in his office working busily at his desk, a pair of dark-rimmed reading glasses perched on his nose.

“Hey,” Trevor said when he caught sight of him. “I need to finish this up, and then I’m all yours.” His eyes fell on the suitcase Jesse held. “I cleared out two drawers and some space in the closet for you, if you want to go unpack. Make yourself at home, okay?”

With a nod Jesse retreated, and once he found his designated drawers, he carefully put his stuff away before poking his head into the huge walk-in closet. Trevor’s clothes hung neatly, casual wear interspersed with suits covered in dry-cleaner plastic wrap, along with a uniform row of dress and everyday shoes lined up on the floor below. Several bars were empty, and Jesse knew Trevor hadn’t cleared that much space for him. This was Carl’s old side of the closet, and Jesse gritted his teeth at the sight of it, a fresh wave of jealousy and possessiveness surging.

He stalked to Trevor’s office and around the desk to stand in front of him, crowding him back.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Trevor stammered, and Jesse took the pen out of his hand and tossed it down before sinking to his knees to shove Trevor’s legs roughly apart.

“What am I doing? Exercising my boyfriend privilege,” Jesse purred, holding Trevor’s eyes with his as he flicked the button of Trevor’s jeans open and flirted his fingers along the zipper, “by interrupting you at work to suck your dick.”

With a gasp Trevor sank back in his chair, his lips parting as Jesse eased him free of the fabric and licked the tip. He played his tongue along the flared head and ridge underneath, letting saliva drip down to ease the way for his stroking hand. It didn’t take long before Trevor was hard as a rock, and then Jesse really went to work, taking him deep.

Trevor reached up behind himself to grip the back of his chair, his abs flexing as he planted his feet and pumped his hips, giving Jesse shallow thrusts. The sound of his low moans had Jesse fumbling with his own pants, and as he jerked himself with his free hand, he peeked up at Trevor, who had his head thrown back, the line of his throat all that was visible.

His hoarse grunts were loud in the quiet room, and when they escalated into tortured groans, Jesse redoubled his efforts, relaxing his throat as best he could, the taste of Trevor flooding his mouth sending his own orgasm slamming into him.

After the waves crested and receded, Jesse stood up higher on his knees to kiss Trevor’s belly, lifting his face when Trevor bent down to thread his fingers through Jesse’s hair and yank his head back.

“Sit up here on the edge of the desk,” he growled against Jesse’s lips. “Let me—”

Jesse gave a rueful chuckle, draping his arms around Trevor’s neck. “Too late.”