There’s a low building at one end of
the camp that used to be a storage facility of sorts, but now it’s
been converted into a makeshift hospital. I stop a doctor and ask
where my boy is. “Tait, room 7,” she tells me, reading off her
clipboard. With a wink, she adds, “These doors lock, Captain. Keep
that in mind.”
I grin at her and hurry down the hall.
The door to his room is ajar, but I knock as I push my way inside.
“Tomas?”
He’s sitting on the edge of the bed
dressed only in boxer shorts and a clean T-shirt. His left leg is
bandaged, the white gauze bright against his dusky skin. I remember
the doctor’s advice and lock the door before I cross the room. Then
he’s finally in my arms, our lips pressing together with a
sweetness I thought I’d never taste again.
“Oh, God, Jace,
