Chapter Sixteen

Stefano

December, 1994

Fuck, he was nervous.

He continued scanning the crowd of service men spilling out of the ass end of a C-17 Globemaster III, but he still couldn’t find Rossi. He should probably just get the hell out of there. Mainly, because he couldn’t be sure whether Rossi would be happy or irritated that he’d come to the base to greet him.

The deadbeat people who had fostered Rossi had kicked him out when he had reached eighteen. Of course, Rossi did have a sister, but the man never talked much about her after telling Stefano the whole story. Fortunately for Ginger, she’d ended up with wealthy foster parents. Unfortunately, she had never wanted anything to do with Rossi.

Thus, in reality, the only blood family Rossi had was his little son, Noah, whom he’d never met.

Rossi has me, he reminded himself.

They only had each other. Stefano’s own parents had been killed in a boating accident just before he’d joined the Army. So, wasn’t it only right that Rossi have someone be there for him when he came home? Rossi making Special Forces at the age of twenty-one was a big fucking deal, he silently reasoned.

Stefano glanced to his right and then slowly to his left. It was mostly all women, many with children, except for a few older couples who stood waiting. He was the only single guy, but it had been a year since he’d last seen Rossi and almost six months since their only phone call through a horrible connection from a phone at the base and Stefano’s crappy apartment landline.

Sure, he got it that they couldn’t tell people they were together, but this was the 90s… things were happening all the time. According to the New York Times the month before, Oregon had five openly gay representatives running for office. That was progress, wasn’t it?

Yeah, it was, but it wasn’t the same everywhere. This year, Boston had canceled the Saint Patrick’s Day parade because the courts had allowed an LGBT contingent to march. And all military personnel were still subject to discharge under the “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy.

Screw that. He’d already made up his mind to leave the military after his current enlistment. Only two more years to go and then he’d be working as a civilian. Stefano already had a job lined up from a friend who’d gotten out a year ago and had started his own mercenary/bodyguard business. Sure, it wasn’t the best work in the world, but the pay was decent.

A couple of women to the right of him giggled and he slid a glance sideways. They looked quickly away.

Fuck. He stood out just being there. It wasn’t only luck that they had their leave at the same time. It took Stefano saving up hours and requesting well ahead of time to be able to get the next two weeks off. Two weeks that matched Rossi’s leave time.

But they were supposed to meet at a hotel not far from there.

The more he thought about it, the more he regretted his decision to be there. Sweat soaked the armpits of his shirt just as he spotted Rossi coming down the ramp at the back end of the plane.

The man was magnificent. It was the only word Stefano could think of to describe the confident walk, the thick dark hair, that light streak of hair windswept from his forehead, the chiseled jawbone, and the sexy as all fuck swagger.

Rossi was a fucking wet dream.

The man held his pack hooked over one shoulder and strode through the crowd—gazing around as several wives ran across the tarmac with their children in tow to jump at their loved ones.

What Stefano wouldn’t give to be able to run to Rossi.

At that moment, Rossi saw him. From this distance, Stefano couldn’t read the man’s expression, but Rossi stopped moving.

Oh fuck.

He’d made a big mistake coming there.

Stefano whirled around and hauled ass out of there as if his life was at stake, and it truly was, or at least it felt that way. He sucked in gulps of air to stave off a full-blown panic attack, but the more he tried to breathe, the more lightheaded he became. He reached one of the outbuildings that led in the direction of his car and darted around it to lean against the side of it.

The sound of running footsteps came from behind him.

“Stef!” Rossi said.

Stefano whirled; he knew his face must have shown how freaked out he was.

“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t be here.”

“Stef…” Rossi breathed his name and reached for the front of his shirt to pull him closer.

Stefano shoved Rossi away hard.

Surprise was the only thing that made Rossi step back, and it was a good thing, too, because just then a family of four came around the building.

Stefano started walking toward the parking lot and Rossi dropped into step beside him.

Neither of them said a word until they were inside the vehicle.

“I’m sorry.” He gripped his car keys tightly. It was a loaner from a friend.

“Hey,” Rossi said and wouldn’t continue until Stefano glanced over. The man’s hand cupped the back of his neck and drew him over the center brake handle. Stefano made a sound in his throat when Rossi pressed his mouth to his. The kiss turned raw and hungry in a heartbeat. After several minutes, Rossi finally drew back enough to let him take a breath.

“I’m glad you came,” Rossi whispered, cupping his cheek.

“Then so am I.” Stefano smiled when Rossi brushed his thumb over his bottom lip.

“Fuck, I can’t get that picture of you out of my head,” Rossi growled.

“You kept it?” He’d taken a chance and had written a letter and sent it with a picture. He’d signed the letter only with an S to avoid questions from anyone. The photo was a shot of only part of his face with the edge of a flower. Of course, he couldn’t hide his five o’clock shadow, but the Polaroid he’d taken last Christmas was so sexy—he’d had to send it.

“Yes, I kept it hidden. I sure the fuck didn’t throw it away, but it got water and dirt damaged from being in my pocket.”

“We’ll take another one.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Stefano’s love for this man grew. If his picture had such an effect on Rossi, maybe his surprise would.

“I rented us a house.”

“What?” Rossi gaped at him.

“Well, technically, I’m house-sitting, and it’s only for the two holiday weeks. I mean, if you don’t think it’s safe, or you don’t want to… I completely understand.” He shut up because he was babbling and started the car.

“Stef…”

“Yeah?” he squeaked.

“Drive.”