The Walls Of Troy Part 34

But...Troy.

He'd spent his entire life as a military dependent. Moving every few years to parts unknown-sometimes overseas, sometimes within the States-had always been reality for him. And he was over it. Six months and quite a bit of intensive therapy after Ben was killed, Troy had moved into his own apartment and finally had a place he could call his own and keep as long as he wanted. No one was going to come home and tell him there was a set of orders, a pack-out date, and a new home thousands of miles away. For the first time in his life, he had a home he didn't have to give up unless he d.a.m.n well wanted to.

My stomach twisted into knots. We hadn't talked about it much, but even though he'd finally gotten out from under the demands of his father's career, mine still existed. And sooner or later, I'd leave Norfolk.

As it turned out, "sooner or later" was a lot sooner than either of us had antic.i.p.ated. A lot sooner.

After several long speeches and the announcement of all the graduates, the commencement ceremony ended, and the family and I searched the thick crowd for Troy. At least I didn't have to worry about Troy freaking out in a crowd like this. Even that first year after Ben's death, he could break out in a sweat in a crowd, but a therapist had been helping him work through a lot of the PTSD. Flashbacks still happened, and maybe they always would, but he was better. Enough that I wasn't frantically searching for him in hopes I'd get to him before his demons did.

One of the graduates turned around, and my heart skipped.

I still wasn't used to seeing him like this. His hair had gone back to its natural color-light brown-and he didn't keep it quite so spiky. Most of the earrings were gone, as were all but one of the eyebrow piercings. With his ex's bulls.h.i.+t behind him, he no longer had the need to present the antisocial exterior, and he'd toned his appearance down. Sometimes he still spiked his hair and put in the piercings, but not so much anymore.

And although his father would have preferred he didn't, Troy still wore a little bit of eyeliner. I hadn't liked it in the beginning, but d.a.m.n, I'd learned to love it. Especially when it was just dark enough to really bring out those spectacular blue eyes.

Which was exactly the way it was now.

"There you are." I threw my arms around him and held him tight.

He hugged me back. "Sorry you had to sit through those speeches." As he let me go, he added, "Talk about boring."

I shrugged. "I've sat through military briefings. I'm used to it." I drew him back in and kissed him lightly. "Congratulations."

"Thank you." He met my eyes and smiled, and we had time for one more kiss before his family descended on us.

Everyone hugged him or shook his hand, congratulating him and handing over cards and small gifts. There'd be more gifts when he got home too. I wondered if his dad could wait that long, or if he'd just give Troy the keys now and let him squirm.

"Group photo!" Troy's aunt gestured for everyone to get in close as she held up her camera.

I stepped aside to get out of the way.

"Come on, Iskander." Admiral Dalton beckoned to me. "You should be in this too." He winked and gave me a rea.s.suring nod, and my stomach twisted.

"I, uh..." I gulped. "That's more of a family picture, isn't it?"

"Of course it is." He raised his eyebrows. "Get in here."

I hesitated but then joined in, sliding an arm around Troy's waist as everyone posed for the photo. After a few other shots, I stepped out of the frame, and while Troy's aunt took more photos of him with various friends and family members, Admiral Dalton appeared beside me.

He elbowed me. "You all right?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Nervous?"

"Just a bit."

He patted my shoulder and smiled. "Relax, Iskander."

"Easy for you to say," I muttered.

He just shook his head and laughed but didn't push.

Eventually, Troy's aunt had taken enough photos, and the group started migrating toward the door. With so many people crammed into the auditorium, progress was slow, but the party at the admiral's house wouldn't start until we got there anyway, so we all patiently waited for the bottleneck to thin out.

I checked my messages on my phone. I tried to ignore the e-mail sitting at the top of my inbox. I really, really didn't want to think about that. Not today.

Fat chance of that.

Sighing, I closed my browser and slipped my phone back into my pocket.

Movement beside me turned my head, and I looked just as Troy put his hand on my waist. "Hey." His forehead creased. "What's wrong? You don't seem like yourself today."

"Nothing. Don't worry about it." I pasted on a smile and mirrored him, resting a hand just above his hip. "This is your day, so-"

"Iskander, don't try to bulls.h.i.+t me. If there's-" His eyes widened. "Did...did you get orders?"

My heart dropped. I hadn't wanted to bring this up here. Not now. "I..."

"Oh f.u.c.k." He grimaced. "Where? And, uh, when?"

I swallowed. No point in pretending he hadn't hit the nail on the head-he'd only be p.i.s.sed at me later when I fessed up.

I moistened my parched lips. "The orders came through this morning. I didn't want to say anything yet, but..."

Troy's lips parted, and his shoulders slumped a little beneath the black gown. "d.a.m.n it." He cleared his throat. "Where are you going?"

I took a deep breath. "Sigonella."

He winced, and I felt it from here. We'd had this conversation dozens of times. Sooner or later, I'd get transferred. Sooner or later, there'd be an ocean between us. Sooner or later, we'd have to decide if we could cope with that, because G.o.d knew it was easier said than done.

"Troy, I..." I took his hand in both of mine. "I want you to come with me."

He blinked. "What?"

"I know we've talked about doing the long-distance thing when I transfer, but I want to take you to Sicily with me." I pulled in a deep breath. "And I want you to come back with me when I retire at the end of my tour." My heart was beating so fast, I was sure I was going to pa.s.s out. Which meant it was the perfect time to...

Stomach in knots, hands sweating as I held his, I went to one knee.

Troy sucked in a breath.

Conversations around us halted.

Heads turned.

And though I could barely muster a whisper, I was sure my voice was echoing off the walls around us: "Troy, will you marry me?"

His eyes widened.

My heart pounded. "I know you're good with doing the long-distance thing, but I don't want to be away from you. Not for that long. And I know how much you want to get away from the Navy life, but I've been thinking about this for a while anyway, and once I got the orders-" My voice cracked, and I quickly cleared my throat. "d.a.m.n it, I-"

"Iskander."

My teeth snapped shut. Please, Troy...

His lips pulled into a grin. "Shut up so I can say yes."

I laughed, and as I stood, he threw his arms around me, nearly bowling me over, and kissed me. All around us, people applauded, and I was sure I heard someone comment "This is so going on YouTube."

"Bet we go viral," Troy murmured against my lips.

I laughed as much as his kiss would allow, and held him a little tighter. Maybe we would go viral. Maybe we'd see ourselves in everybody else's Facebook feeds. And even two years after Ben went down, I still savored the fact that we could go public and go viral and not worry about anyone hurting Troy over it.

I drew back, and my heart swelled when our eyes met. G.o.d, we really had made it, hadn't we?

He grinned up at me. "I wasn't expecting this, that's for sure."

"Surprise." I kissed him lightly. "I was going to wait, but then the orders came up, so now seemed as good a time as any. I know you're tired of the Navy-"

He cut me off with another tender kiss. "Don't. I hated the Navy life because it meant moving away every time I got attached to someone." He cupped my cheek. "But I want to be with you. Even if you decide to stay in until thirty years."

"Even if it means dragging you to Europe for a few years?"

"I'll suffer through it." He grinned and kissed me again.

I touched my forehead to his, caressing his cheek. "I love you, Troy."

"I love you too."

Someone cleared his throat, and when we turned, Admiral Dalton came toward us. He extended his hand. "Welcome to the family, Iskander."

"Thank you, sir."

He turned to his son. "I guess this means we'll have to s.h.i.+p your car to Sicily."

"That piece of s.h.i.+t?" Troy snorted. "I'll sell it."

I coughed. "Uh, Troy..."

"Well." Dalton chuckled and clapped Troy's shoulder. "I suppose I can always take it back to the dealers.h.i.+p."

"The deal-" Troy blinked. "Wait, what?"

Dalton reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. Troy's jaw dropped.

"It's all yours, son." Dalton took Troy's hand and dropped the keys onto his palm. "I'm proud of you."

"Thanks." Troy hugged his dad, then spun the key ring around his finger. "d.a.m.n. A degree, a car, and a fiance." He flashed a toothy grin. "I should do this graduation thing more often."

Dalton laughed. "Don't push your luck, kid." He gestured at the door, where the crowd was finally thinning enough for us to make our way through. "Let's get out of here so you can see your new ride."

"h.e.l.l yeah!"

I slipped my hand into Troy's, and we followed the rest of the family out of the auditorium. My heart was still pounding and my stomach still fluttered, but it was excitement and relief now instead of nerves and dread.

The sheer amount of logistics ahead of us-getting married, getting us and our belongings and that s.h.i.+ny new car to Sicily-promised to be overwhelming. I could already imagine Troy breaking out in hives over the idea of putting Talos on a plane.

We'd manage, though, because when we reached the other end, we'd be together. Both of us, as well as that gigantic dog who always hogged the d.a.m.ned bed when I stayed at Troy's place.

And all I could think was, thank G.o.d for those orders I'd thought were bulls.h.i.+t.

About the Author.

L.A. Witt is an abnormal M/M romance writer currently living in the glamorous and ultrafuturistic metropolis of Omaha, Nebraska, with her husband, two cats and a disembodied penguin brain that communicates with her telepathically. In addition to writing s.m.u.t and disturbing the locals, L.A. is said to be working with the US government to perfect a genetic modification that will allow humans to survive indefinitely on Corn Pops and beef jerky. This is all a cover, though, as her primary leisure activity is hunting down her archnemesis, erotica author Lauren Gallagher, who is also said to be lurking somewhere in Omaha.

Visit L.A.'s website at www.loriawitt.com, her blog at http://gallagherwitt.blogspot.com, and follow her on Twitter where she tweets (usually bantering with Aleksandr Voinov) as @GallagherWitt.

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