Page 11 of Better Late Than Never

I’d done my level best to make up for lost time. During my two shipboard deployments later on, I’d been in constant contact with them, and I’d even managed to have Aimee fly out with the boys to meet me in port a couple of times.

But I’d still missed so much.

And now I was missing them. As kids, as adults; I just missed having my sons nearby and being able to talk to them without working around time zones.

I even caught myself missing Aimee. Not the fighting, just… having her here. Havingsomeonehere.

Closing my eyes, I pushed out a long breath. I was just lonely. Of course I missed my kids, but when I found myself truly longing for my ex-wife to be with me—that was when I knew there was more going on here. For the last three years before we’d separated, Aimee and I couldn’t even be in the same room without my hackles going up. In the three years since, the anger had mostly died away, and if anything, I was mildly annoyed or totally neutral about her. The animosity was gone, but so was the affection.

So yeah, when I started wishing she could be here, that meant I was getting desperate.

I looked at my phone, which was lying on the table beside my beer bottle.

The app I’d downloaded was still on it, though I hadn’t looked at it since my conversation with HM1 Barlow. Admittedly, what he’d said had spooked me. And all the reasons I’d been reluctant to make a profile still existed. The language barrier with the locals. The political and disciplinary risks with the military community.

I was curious, though. And lonely as hell.

It had also occurred to me several times that Barlow had a profile on that app. It meant he was queer and single too. It meant that, had we not been what we were in the Navy, Imightactually have had a snowball’s chance in hell with him.

Curiosity had been tugging me toward the app ever since we’d talked, but I hadn’t indulged. My profile was still active, but I hadn’t been back on. It wasn’t a good idea. Why torture myself with seeing his photos and reading his preferences when I couldn’t have him? Also, it felt kind of intrusive. It was a public profile, but if I knew it was him…

Then again, he’d found my profile, so if he didn’t want me to see his, he’d likely have blocked me. Right?

Either way, the siren’s call of his profile was tough to ignore.

And maybe I was just a little too lonely and masochistic tonight, but I finally caved. I picked up my phone and opened the app for the first time in days.

Before I could hunt down the hot corpsman, though, I realized I had some notifications. I’d turned off push notifications—I hated those onanyapp—so I hadn’t noticed them until now.

Three were private messages. Unsurprisingly, two were very obviously spam. Delete. Delete.

The third, though…

I sat up a little as I peered at my screen. I recognized that profile photo. And the username.

Tobias.

Holy shit. That was the guy Barlow had been warning me about. And he’d messaged me already?

I tapped the message, more curious than anything.

Hey, saw your profile! I remember stepping out into the gay scene. Isn’t easy! Happy to help you find your footing. Or we can just have a good time. (wink emoji)

I couldn’t decide if my skin was crawling because of the message itself—if there was some creepy subtext—or if it was Barlow’s warning that had me regarding him warily. Both, maybe? Because Barlow had seemed really uneasy about Tobias. Enough that he’d felt compelled to approach me and warn me about him. That wasn’t something he’d just pull out of his ass, was it? Stirring up drama? Keeping me from connecting with Tobias? It wasn’t like he even knew me—why would he care if I hooked up with someone?

Everything about our conversation had struck me as genuine, from his warnings about Tobias to his discomfort with talking to me about it. So he probably wasn’t full of?—

An instant messenger window popped up. I jumped, nearly dropping my phone.

When I recovered, I realized the message was from Tobias.

My heart pounded as if he’d just materialized here in my backyard even though his location showed as twenty-six kilometers away in Jerez de la Frontera. I could ignore him. Block him. Pretend I’d never seen the message.

Curiosity prodded me. More than anything, though, my gut said to listen to Barlow.

So, I closed the messenger without reading it and I blocked Tobias’s profile. I felt weird about that, but also like it was the right decision. Barlow didn’t know me, but something about Tobias had rattled him enough to come say something, and listening to him felt like erring on the side of caution.

I was still curious about Barlow himself, though, so I pulled up the search function.

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