WINGS

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Mason's head shot up when Brent came charging in through the clinic doors. He'd seen that brooding look before and Brent did not look happy. "Brent," he said, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"I was just going to ask you the same thing," he said similar to an order of demand.

The doctor sensed Brent's worried tone and placed a hand on his arm to reassure him. "He's okay," she said, turning a glimpsing smile at Mason. "Someone decided to climb the roof today."

"What the hell, Mason?" His furrowed brows were as obvious as his subtle inquisition.

Mason quickly centered his focus on his feet. "The screen on the TV was acting a little fuzzy. I thought I could just go up and adjust the antennae."

"You could have really hurt yourself," said Brent, glaring but then took a calming breath and turned to the medic. "Thank you for calling me."

"Anytime, Staff Sergeant. Just some minor bruising around the shoulder. Possibly a strained muscle, from hanging on before his own weight forced him to let go."

"So, what happened?"

"It all happened so fast," Mason began to say, but when Brent darted a look in his direction, he looked away and went silent.

The medic took her cue. "Well, his story is that he stumbled on his way down the ladder. But lucky for him, he only bruised his ego. Airman's Crenshaw and Pennington happened to be walking by, said they had to force him to come here. Is he always this stubborn?" she asked, teasingly.

"Only when he thinks he can get away with it," Brent said, pressing his lips with a cocked brow.

"Hey, I resent that remark."

She saw the rivaled look each of them held in their eyes. One, seemingly angry, while the other looked as innocent as a puppy who just chewed up someone's favorite pair of shoes. The medic smiled politely and collected her stethoscope. "I'll leave you two alone now. Mason, you take it easy next time. And let me know if you feel any headaches coming on."

"I'm fine. Thanks again, Dr. Chaplin."

After she left the room, Brent immediately walked over to Mason. Warmth spread over his cheek the second Brent touched him. He leaned in close until their foreheads met as he fought to calm the panic in his breath. "What were you thinking, babe?" he whispered, "You had me worried."

"I'm okay," he said, regrettably, "And I'm not exactly a delicate flower. I'm tougher than you think."

Brent drew back. "Fine, tough guy, but even the toughest bones break, and concussions happen more than you know around here."

"What's the big deal? It was a lousy accident. Look, I promise I'll be more careful next time."

Brent firmly held Mason's face between the palms of his hands. "The big deal is—you, baby. I don't want to see you hurt."

"And I care about you, too. But you can't come running in all G.I. Joe and ignoring your job every time you think I'm in trouble."

Brent held his gaze. "You're right, and I'll work on that. But you should understand something too. You and me? We're not some fling until you decide to leave. And I'm not going to walk away every time something goes wrong between us," he paused, "I'm falling for you, beautiful. Hard."

So, Brent wasn't planning on just letting him go. Mason almost smiled. "What are you saying?"

"I'm in love with you, you little shit. And before you say anything, or before you think you owe me anything, just know that I don't expect you to feel the same. It's okay if you don't." Liar. Brent let his hands slide down Mason's shoulders with one last look at him. A chance for Mason to say something, but it never came. "Okay." He nodded as the disappointment hung on his heart. "Let's get you home."