WINGS

CHAPTER TWENTY

Brent practically bull dozed his way to the medic building. He came flying through the doors like he was the wind. When he reached Mason's room, he grabbed hold of the door frame, stopping himself before he went any further. Catching his breath, he gazed at him in a moment of overwhelming joy. The thumps in his chest came hard, barely able to cage his beating heart. And when those gorgeous little brown eyes lifted at him, it brought him to tears as he let go of the doorway. Brent took one look at him and devoured him. He kissed Mason everywhere, on the forehead, on his cheeks, along his neck, even though he was still catching his breath. He cautioned himself, pressing softly over Mason's lips. He breathed in as he gently, and unwantedly, pulled away. "I was so worried. They wouldn't let me see you, I tried, but..."

"Hey, baby," came the croaky voice, with half lidded eyes. His hand rose from the bed, swaying as he attempted to point at nowhere in particular. "Don't be mad, okay? But I think I lost my ring and I'm a little drunk—I think, I'm feeling kind a woozy-doozy right now." His laugh as drawn out as his drunken smile.

Brent bowed his head in an exploding joy of laughter, taking Mason's hand in his, kissing his knuckles. His smile raging like the weight of the world had just been lifted off his shoulders. He faltered a minute as a tear ran down his cheek, taking in all his beautiful little and wonderful facial expressions he thought he wouldn't ever see again. He his heart hung heavy, wanting to cry, berating himself at how he ever thought letting Mason go was a choice. He should never have walked away.

"Shh—shh. That's okay, sweetheart. No one's mad." He dug in his pocket. "And you didn't lose it. See? You don't remember, but you gave it to me to hold for you." He slid the ring back on his finger.

***

Mason paced back and forth nervously in the kitchen. He paused now and again with long intermittent stares through the window. His heart raced and his pumping adrenaline only seemed to fuel his nervous angst. He began straightening the salt shaker and pepper, for the fourth time. He moved the vase on the bar, filled with an arrangement of flowers. First to the left, then to the right. Next, he turned and grabbed the damp cloth and frantically began wiping down the counters, again.

Brent placed his hands aside Mason's hips, forcing him to stand still. "Baby. Slow down, you're going to give yourself a heart attack." Beautiful eyes turned around and looked up at him. And just as the day he'd proposed, love flooded his heart as he smiled gently down at his husband. His fingers snaked his under his polo shirt, his thumb softly grazing over the scarred skin.

Mason put his hand over Brent's. "I told you I don't like it when you do that," he said, softly, irritated. "It makes me feel ugly."

"Honey, it was five years ago. And it doesn't make you ugly. Not to me. You're still as handsome and gorgeously beautiful as the first day I laid eyes on you."

He smiled, modestly. "You're biased and obligated to say that."

"Listen to me, beautiful. I know you're nervous." He kissed his forehead. "And you know, we don't have to do this today? I can cancel everything with just a phone call."

Mason stared up as though Brent had lost his mind. "Are you kidding me? They'll be here any second." Fear festering in his eyes. "What if they don't like me? What if I can't connect with them? Oh, my god. What if a fight breaks out and I can't break it up on my own?"

Crenshaw and Pennington were just walking in as Brent was trying to calm him. "That's what you have us for, buddy. Our newly promoted Tech Sergeant and I will bring the brigade if anything happens. Trust me, nobody's going to want to come up against our armed forces," said Scott, coming through the door.