Finding You, Finding Me Read online

  Henry gasped, shaking, and collapsed into Will’s arms as Will lay back on the bed. Their lips found each other again and then their teeth and tongues. Henry snaked his hands down Will’s sides, his fingers ghosting over his skin until they reached Will’s waistband. Pulling back, Henry caught Will’s gaze, as though searching for some sign, some show of hesitation.

  Will knew he’d find none. Will was panting, his hands pulling at Henry’s arms, his shoulders, his neck, trying to drag him back for another kiss, more skin and more friction. Henry smiled and dropped a line of kisses to Will’s chest as he reached into his pants and cupped his ass.

  Groaning, Will threw his head back. His legs fell open and then wrapped around Henry, but Henry chuckled and sat back. He tugged, pulling Will’s pants down, slowly, carefully, still watching for any nervousness, any hesitance. They’d never done this before. They’d never been naked together before, body to body, and jerking another man off in a shed was a very different experience from lying with him and feeling that hard body against your own.

  Will kicked his legs out of his pants impatiently. He glared at Henry. “Your turn,” he grunted, motioning to Henry’s pants. “Off.” He was still panting, still breathless, and a red flush had stolen over his body. Desire snaked through him, burning within, and he ached with the force of his need. He needed to feel Henry’s body against his, needed to feel Henry in a way that almost scared him. He was trembling with desire, with need.

  Chuckling, Henry quickly stripped his pants and threw them to the ground. Naked and hard, he met Will’s gaze with a shy smile before sliding back onto the bunk. Will’s legs spread, wrapping around Henry once again, and as Henry settled onto Will, their cocks slid together. Precome smeared, liquid lines of molten fire spreading on their skin. They gasped and then moaned. Will grabbed Henry and pulled him into a deep, scorching kiss as Henry ground his hips down into Will.

  They couldn’t stop, not with the pressure from hiding, the secrecy, the ever-present danger of another jump, and their own surging passion driving them hotter and higher than ever before. Henry ground into Will, sliding their cocks together, trapping them between their bodies, and rutting with wild abandon. His lips were glued to Will’s, nipping, sucking, tangling tongues as they shared breaths and pants. Will bucked into Henry’s thrusts, moaning as his eyes closed and he scratched down Henry’s back, leaving red lines in his wake. Gasping, he buried his face in Henry’s neck. He could smell him beneath the GI soap and the England summer. Dust, gunmetal, and the tang of some spice he could only barely catch met his every inhale. Greedy, delirious with desire, Will snuffed more, tried to capture his scent. He was racing too fast, going too far, and he was going to come far, far too soon.

  Will cried out, stiffening, and he grabbed Henry’s shoulders as his nails dug into his skin hard enough to draw blood. Hot come exploded from Will, soaking his chest, Henry’s chest, and smearing between their bodies. They didn’t stop, didn’t move, kept writhing together, not an inch separating them, and Henry cried out next, only moments later. He muffled his scream in Will’s neck, but splashed come between their bodies, covering them both.

  They slowed, shivering more than rutting, trembling in each other’s arms. Will stroked Henry’s back as Henry pressed a kiss to Will’s pounding pulse. Exhaustion stole over them both, and in minutes, they were both asleep, wrapped up in each other, and still covered in come.

  Chapter Five

  Later, they awoke with a start when a group of troopers from the next company loudly clambered through the barracks walkways. Braying laughter and the stumble of boots echoed outside but passed by the door. Frozen, Henry and Will didn’t know what to do. There was no way to hide what had happened. The air in the hut still reeked of sex.

  They changed, pulling their pants on but leaving off their shirts, and propped open the hut door. Henry sat on the stoop and smoked a cigarette while Will watched the stars. When the hut had finally cleared of the scent of spilled come, they clambered back inside and lay back on Henry’s bunk.

  For a moment, Henry felt a wave of panic. He didn’t know what to say, what to do. Will was a great guy, was someone he liked—liked a lot, if he was honest with himself—but he didn’t have much experience with the whole relationship side of the equation. They hadn’t had so much uninterrupted alone time together before, ever. Stolen glances and stolen fumbles made for an exhilarating escapade, but when they were alone together, could it work?

  He shouldn’t have feared. Will was smiling at him as they lay side by side, gazing at each other. Will had an easy smile, always ready for a laugh and a smirk, and fell into the background of the troopers’ fun with ease. Not the ringleader—he was no Giordano—but he was warm and fun and happy in a place where that was in short supply. In no time, Will had teased into Henry, whittling out stories from basic and their training before becoming paratroopers. They traded tales of woe and triumph, and the hours passed by with quiet laughter and stolen kisses.

  As the hours lengthened, Will tucked himself in against Henry, pillowing his head on Henry’s shoulder, and closed his eyes. Henry was still telling him about growing up in New York, about Brooklyn and the big city. It was so different from what Will told of his childhood, growing up in Kansas in lazy cornfields amid droning insects and the plains’ winds.

  Henry’s voice trailed off, fading away. He stared down at Will, tucked against him with an arm and leg wrapped around his body. His mouth was open, nose pressed against Henry’s neck, and soft snores breathed over his lips.

  Biting his lip, Henry stared at Will, then over at the barrack’s door. They had been alone all night, and it was practically morning already. Could they risk it? Could he let Will stay? He didn’t want to move. Certainly didn’t want to kick Will out. But if someone came in…there really was no way to hide what they were doing.

  Swallowing, and sending a quick prayer to anyone who might be listening, Henry tucked his cheek against Will’s hair and gave in to the desire that fisted around his heart. He wanted this to work, this whatever-it-was between them, more than he wanted anything in a long time. There was so much against them—the war, the guys, their secrets, Will’s shocking blasé nonchalance around the others, and his own stilted paranoia and reserve. But for the moment, Will was in his arms, the hut was empty, and they could maybe catch a few hours’ sleep together.

  He closed his eyes and pressed a kiss to Will’s tousled hair.

  * * * * *

  The next jump, when it finally happened, came quickly.

  Operation Market Garden took them to the Netherlands and to the Dutch. They, along with the rest of the First Allied Airborne paratroopers, were to jump into the Netherlands and secure a swath of bridges, cutting off the Germans and pinning them back in their home country. It was a day jump this time, thank God, with less anti-aircraft fire from the Germans. They didn’t lose nearly as many sticks this time, and planes and gliders weren’t falling from the sky in flaming trails.

  They also hit their drop zones. And there weren’t any trees. Will made the landing safely, to the happy teasing of the rest of his platoon. They moved quickly, making for Son. The Germans blew the bridge at Son, slowing them down, but the combat engineers were building a Bailey bridge to cross the Wilhelmina Canal. They moved on to Best, trying for that bridge.

  Best was a shit show. The Germans had blocked the route, laying down fire and blasting them back with tanks and heavy artillery. Skirting Best, and trying to buy the engineers some time at Son, they headed south to Eindhoven. It took two days to reach Eindhoven after their drop, hiding in fields and barns and catching sleep in rotations as they kept pressing onward.

  Will met up with Phillips and Ramirez as his platoon approached the eastern side of Eindhoven village. Dirt lanes, brick houses, rolling farms, and a quiet, deserted center square greeted them. Nothing moved. Nothing breathed. The village looked frozen in time, with the church steeple rising against a cerulean sky, unblemished and untouched.
r />   Headquarters Company set up a post on the outskirts of Eindhoven, but the paratroopers had to secure the rest of the city. The plan called for First Platoon to take the eastern side, and Second Platoon, the western.

  Will’s thoughts turned to Henry. He was moving with Giordano, keeping close to the Platoon Sergeant. It had been Will’s suggestion to stay closer to Giordano. He didn’t like Henry running alone in his platoon without backup, without a partner. Medics were lonely soldiers in their platoons. Henry had grudgingly agreed, for Will.

  Phillips cursed under his breath as he stared down the line of crisscrossing dirt streets and hovering brick homes dotting their path down the eastern side of town. “We have to clear every one,” he said. Motioning to the first squad, Phillips sent them to the first three houses on the cross street. He turned to Will, pointing to the next street and the next set of houses. “We’ll cover you.”

  Keeping low, Will took off, racing with his squad mates behind him past where first squad had stopped. They flattened down against the side of the first brick house, waiting, listening.

  Silence.

  Will called for the breach, and Anderson and Putz set up while Hughler kicked in the door. They ran inside, shouting to stay down, and when they found no one, they each called their rooms clear.

  Next house. Will took the lead, setting up on the sidewall again, watching the front door. He called for Hughler.

  “Incoming!” The shout came from another street, but it was loud enough in the stillness of the town that it carried, sending every trooper running for cover. Overhead, a German bomber—a Dornier or a Ju 88—rumbled loudly, shaking the sky in its low pass. A few troopers tried to fire, but it was too late. The bomber had already released its payload.

  The bomb dropped from the sky, careening toward Eindhoven’s city center. The church, standing in the city square, pristine and brilliant, was right in its path. The bomb whistled as it plunged, shrieking higher and higher, and the troopers watched in horror as the bomb slammed into the church and exploded into a bursting fireball.

  All at once, screams rose from the suddenly alive village. Bodies crawled from the wreckage of the church—women, men, children, covered in soot and some on fire, screaming. Others ran from their houses, tearing toward the church to help or running from the city center, trying to flee.

  Will cursed. Civilians raced by him, screaming, as the bomber made another overhead pass. “Get down!” he shouted. “Find cover!” He saw another squad jump into the ditch bordering the village, flattening themselves against the bank and hiding behind the brushy coverage. He kicked Anderson and motioned for the ditch. “Follow me!”

  They ran low, keeping one eye on the bomber as it circled overhead. Near breathless, they waited for the next bomb to drop. Ahead of Will, he saw one squad from the other platoon—Henry’s platoon—racing toward the burning church. Swallowing, he saw Giordano’s short body running as fast as he could, and the taller trooper outrunning him…was Henry.

  He rolled as soon as he hit the ditch, clambering back up and peering over the side to watch. Henry was dragging survivors out of the church, laying them on the grass and doing what he could. He watched him put a fire out on one woman and then carry another child to safety. Giordano was trying to pull back debris blocking one of the collapsed exits. Other villagers were helping, bringing buckets of water and blankets.

  Overhead, the bomber veered away, fading into the afternoon sky. The rumble faded and then vanished.

  Only to return again. Staring at each other, the troopers quickly turned their eyes skyward and caught another bomber—or three—headed their way.

  “Fuck, we’ve got to get them out of there!” Will tried to run toward the others, toward Henry, but Hughler held him back.

  “That bomber will be here in seconds!” Hughler shouted over the steadily increasing roar. “You’ll be a target!”

  “We can’t leave them!” Will shook Hughler off and pushed out of the ditch, tearing for the nearest building and cover. Above, the bombers circled closer, nearly in range. He cursed and ran, racing for the next building. He’d leapfrog to the church, to Henry.

  Behind him, scuffling and curses broke his concentration. Hughler glared at him, then back at Anderson, who’d run into Hughler’s back. “We’re coming too,” Hughler shouted. “Let’s go, let’s go!”

  Will ran to the next building. He was nearly there, nearly at the town square. The bombers were right overhead, the rumble so loud the earth shook, and the sky seemed to fracture apart. He saw Giordano pull Henry away, saw him push his lover out of the open area and over to one of the buildings for cover.

  He saw the bombers circle, saw them line up against that building.

  There was nothing he could do, not anymore. Hughler grabbed his arms, steadying him and holding him back. He’d have torn across the open ground if he could, but the German gunner would shred him to ribbons. He cursed, his muscles burning, his blood surging, and he yearned, ached, to do something. Anything. Anything to keep Henry safe.

  Three loud whistles screamed through the city, followed by more screams from the civilians in hiding and bellowing orders to get down and stay low. The bombs careened down on the city square and tore into a building one over from Will and his squad, and into the building where Henry and Giordano had run. Shattered bricks and an explosion of dust bloomed through the village, and Will stole that moment, taking off through the chaos and running for Henry.

  He heard Hughler and Anderson follow him, boots slapping on the ground as they ran as hard as they could. They could still hear the bombers overhead, could still feel the ground shake beneath them. The dust was clearing, but they weren’t there yet. Faster, faster.

  Will stumbled as he ran into a pile of broken bricks, haphazardly smashed and torn asunder in the bombing. He veered left, clambering over the wreckage and searching through the debris. “Sergeant!” he shouted. “Corporal Iverson!” Behind him, Hughler and Anderson fanned out, searching and keeping under the partially collapsed overhang of the building’s roof.

  Coughing and a string of sputtered curses caught their ears. The three took off, running toward the sound, and they found Giordano and Henry trying to push away a beam that had fallen across their cover, pinning them both.

  Will got to them first, and he helped heave the beam high enough for Giordano to slip out. Giordano added his weight, and they lifted it enough for Henry to slide after him. Both were coughing, covered in dirt and debris, and trying to blink back watery eyes filled with dust. “You all right?” Will asked both troopers, but his eyes were on Henry.

  Coughing, Henry nodded and then doubled over and tried to hack out his lung. Will rested his hand on his back, rubbing gently, and then passed Henry his canteen.

  Anderson appeared then, breathing hard. “They’re circling back,” he said. “We gotta move.”

  “Shit.” Giordano was limping, but he led the five of them around the strewn debris and outside the building, keeping to the shattered walls. They were heading back for First Platoon’s line.

  Barr, the radioman for First Platoon, found them first. Tucked into a doorway, he shouted coordinates into the radio and tried to listen to the commands coming through. Dust covered his face, and debris clung to his uniform.

  Giordano helped him up, shoving him down the path back toward their lines. “What’s the sit?” he shouted.

  “Germans don’t have a foothold here,” Barr shouted back. “But they know we do. They’re going to bomb the city all night. Intel says about eighty bombers are set to turn this place to ash!”

  “Fuck me,” Giordano cursed.

  “Orders are to evacuate the civilians and form rescue teams.” Barr ran ahead with Giordano, still limping, as Will ran next to Henry.

  “You okay?” Will asked again, his voice low. Henry was still coughing.

  Henry nodded. “Dust, that’s all.” He spat as he ran. “Weren’t you on the east perimeter?”

  “Yeah.” Will s
wallowed. “My squad came to get you guys when we saw the bomb drop on your heads.”

  Henry smiled quickly, meeting Will’s gaze. “Thanks.” He nodded toward Barr and Giordano. “You heard that?”

  Will nodded. “Fucking Germans. There’s over two thousand people in this town.”

  “Be careful with the evacuation, okay?” Henry’s eyes pierced Will, suddenly bright against the grey-dust of his face. “We’re both going back in. Be careful.”

  “You too.” Will nodded to Henry and veered off as they approached their lines at the edge of town. He headed back to Second Platoon as Henry followed Giordano to First.

  They looked back once, meeting each other’s gaze, and shared a small smile. Then they were off, back into the fray of the war, into the cacophony of noise and mayhem that was their company and the larger battalion, and on to the next leg of their mission.

  Chapter Six

  Eindhoven ended up a smoldering pile of wreckage and ruin.

  The number of civilians hospitalized in their aid station and then sent on to the clearing station was over a thousand, and more than two hundred had died. At least one hundred troopers had been injured, including Giordano and Phillips.

  Henry was living in the aid station, overrun with the number of injuries sustained during the battle. He’d move from tent to tent, working in shifts with the other medics, trying to do everything they could with the limited supplies they’d jumped with.

  A bomb had destroyed a gas tanker, and the fires had yet to go out. Thick, roiling black smoke hung in the air, giving everyone a sour taste and bad attitude. Tempers flared, tension and exhaustion high.

  It was a wild day, Henry thought, when he was looking forward to seeing Giordano. His platoon leader was next up. He sported an ugly gash in his leg and a sprained knee he’d been ignoring for too long. Henry tried to smile at him as he approached him on the cot.