Cut and Run 6 - Stars and Stripes

sky through the branches of their oak tree. Another shot soared into the air, bursting into flickering flames of red, white, and blue. People began to hoot and holler. No one was paying them any attention.
    Zane looked down at Ty, and Ty grinned. This was nothing special for Ty. In his world, every time Zane’s lips touched his, something somewhere caught fire.
    Zane rolled onto his back again, resting his head on Ty’s stomach as they watched the show. It was impressive and loud, with each burst of color and flame followed by whoops and shouts from the people gathered around the Alamo and in the streets of San Antonio.
    Ty carded his fingers through Zane’s hair. The moment felt heavy. As if it were fated for something of great importance, like there was something they should have been doing but weren’t. It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling, just something they were letting pass them by.
    “Ty?” Zane said after the last of the fireworks had faded into trails of smoke in the sky.
    “Yeah?”
    “Would you be willing to come back here with me? To the ranch, I mean, if we came back for Thanksgiving, or . . .”
    “I’d go anywhere you wanted me to.”
    Zane sat up and turned until he was resting on his elbows and looking down at Ty. “Will you tell me something if I ask?”
    Ty frowned at the odd way the question was posed. He had a feeling he knew where Zane was going, and though it made him uncomfortable and tense, he nodded.
    “What happened to you in the Marines?”
    Ty’s stomach flip-flopped and he swallowed hard. It was a question Zane had every right to ask, and it was one Ty had hoped he never would.
    Ty licked his lips, his mind racing. “I can’t . . . I can’t tell you all of it.”
    “What can you tell me?”
    Ty swallowed hard, hesitating as he stared into Zane’s eyes. “I . . . I was taken prisoner on a Recon mission in Afghanistan. The op is still classified and we were never officially prisoners of war. But I guess it’s something you should know. Classified or not.”
    Zane nodded and took one of Ty’s hands. “You and Nick, right?”
    Ty stared at him, mouth hanging open. “You’re not surprised. Do I hide it that poorly?”
    “No. But I’d suspected that before. I overheard you and Nick talking when he came to visit that first time. I’ve been sleeping with you for the better part of a year. You speak in Farsi. I try to wake you when the dreams are the worst.”
    Ty nodded. They both had nightmares. It wasn’t something they discussed often.
    Zane finally glanced up to meet Ty’s eyes. “And then Nick told me, when we were on his boat.”
    Ty’s eyes widened. “He told you?”
    Zane nodded, wincing.
    “How much?”
    “All of it.”
    Ty reached up and put a hand over his mouth, feeling sick.
    “Ty?” Zane whispered. He ran his hand over Ty’s face.
    Ty had to try twice before he got the words out. “I’ve just never dealt with anyone knowing about it.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    Ty shook his head, trying to shrug it off. “You should know. You should know all of it.”
    “Will you tell me?”
    Ty peered deep into the sincerity and worry, the love and devotion shining in Zane’s eyes. “Yeah. I can’t . . . I’ll tell you more than I should.”
    Zane smiled a smile so brilliant it rivaled the fireworks. Ty slid his hand over Zane’s chest and up his shoulders. Then his fingers were dragging over Zane’s neck, his thumb digging in near Zane’s ear as he pulled him closer and kissed him.
    Zane scooted over to rest half on top of him, and Ty lifted a knee to let Zane settle between his legs. The longer they kissed, the less urgent the past seemed.
    Zane finally pulled back with a low growl. “Do you feel lucky enough to be fucked in a National Landmark without getting arrested?”
    Ty barked a laugh. “You’ve lost your damn mind.”

    Zane’s head felt heavy as he and Ty tromped up the front steps. They’d spent a solid two days traipsing across Texas, and the only attention they’d attracted was from an overly flirtatious denizen of San Antonio who Ty had almost decked before Zane could drag him away.
    They were home with just hours to spare, and Zane’s mother had requested his presence, citing something of great importance she wanted to discuss before the Steers and Stripes Barbeque began.
    “Any ideas?” Ty asked.
    “No, but I am ever the optimist,” Zane grumbled as he led the way into the big house. They could hear the others in the