Page 13 of Loving a Warrior

“Not knowing where your swim buddy is at all times, or not stopping to help someone who’s down, isn’t acceptable, Matt. That’s not showing the character the teams are looking for.”

Renewed shame slithered through Matt at those words. He’d been trying to avoid Shane so he wouldn’t have to deal with his reaction to him, but what if they’d been on the battlefield? Training was no different from war.

Rick seemed to read his mind. “SEALs train like they fight, and they fight like they train. It all begins here, son. Everything you’re doing serves a purpose, even if it doesn’t seem like it now, and it could one day save your life in battle. Instead of taking to heart everything you’re learning, here you are whining to me about it. Whatever is bothering you, son, you need to work it out because the only one responsible for your success is you.”

For a moment Matt couldn’t speak, the truth of those words stabbing into him like a bayonet. At last he mumbled inanely, “He calls me Alphabet Soup.”

Rick chuckled. “Who, your instructor? Well, that’s a real good sign. If your instructor gave you a nickname, that means he likes you. And the more unflattering the better, trust me.”

Matt snorted his disbelief as Rick went on, “It’s true. In the teams we didn’t trust anyone with nicknames like Viper or Striker; this ain’t the movies. But if you were called Outhouse or Dumpster Fire, you were A-okay.”

Matt couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

“This is just a bump in the road, Matt, and a minor one at that. The whole point of First Phase is to weed the weak men out, and I’m not talking about just the physically weak. Your instructor trashed your room not to punish you, but to see how you handle it. How did you handle it, Matty?”

By flying off the handle and making accusations, then refusing an offer of help.

Matt’s silence was his reply.

“Well, it’s over and done with, can’t be changed. So what do you do? You handle it now. You take care of it, and you show up tomorrow with your head in the right place, ready to crush it. No feeling sorry for yourself, no dwelling on your mistakes. Own them, and move on with one hundred ten percent effort.”

Matt sucked in a deep breath. “Hooyah.”

“Now get to work.”

Without another word, Rick hung up, and Matt tossed his phone aside. What an absolute clusterfuck of a day, and it was far from over. He glanced around the destroyed room, his tired eyes burning.

Well, you could’ve had help. He offered.

Matt fought back tears as self-pity rolled through him. He’d been clobbered over the head with some hard truths today, mainly that there was so much more to being a SEAL than physical toughness and tactical proficiency. There was also whether or not he had the ability to earn the trust of his teammates. They had to have zero hesitation about going into battle with him, and without that trust, he’d never be anything to the teams but a deadweight.

Today he’d let everyone down, most especially Shane. In one fell swoop, Matt had managed to alienate his classmates and leave his instructors wondering if he had what it took to be a SEAL.

Matt wiped his cheeks and got determinedly to his feet. That all had to change. Now. And it wasn’t up to anyone but him.

Chapter Four

Shane lay on his back, staring up at the bright blue sky. Everything looked hazy, with a dreamlike quality that made him want to drift off to sleep. Maybe he’d just take a little nap…

Right as he closed his eyes, though, he felt a stinging slap first on one cheek, then the other. A strong arm slid beneath his shoulders, urging him to sit up. He struggled to focus, Matt’s face swimming before him. His mouth was moving but Shane couldn’t make out what he was saying.

Suddenly more guys were there and they pulled Shane to his feet. He swayed, the ground threatening to rise up and smack him upside the head. They half dragged, half carried him to the medical tent, where the corpsman directed them all toward a folding chair. Shane collapsed onto it, and the corpsman knelt to check him over. The dude sounded like he was underwater when he said to Matt, “Looks like he got his bell rung pretty good. How far did he fall?”

“Shit, maybe fifteen feet?”

Shane’s chin sagged toward his chest as it all came back to him. The O-course, the bane of his fucking existence. He’d been halfway up a thirty-foot rope climb when he lost his grip and plummeted to the sand.

Shane dragged his head up to glare at Matt. “Still gonna beat your fuckin’ time, asshole. This is a minor setback, so don’t get cocky.”

Matt shrugged, brushing off Shane’s words like he would an annoying gnat. Gritting his teeth in frustration, Shane growled, “Aww, fuck you.” Only the way it came out was “fuh-oo” as another wave of weakness swept over him, and this time Matt smirked.

Their eyes met, the usual distance in Matt’s replaced with real worry. A surprising quiver went through Shane at the sight of it.

Whatever.

He broke their gaze and leaned forward to prop his elbows on his knees, head hanging, hoping Matt would think it was a residual reaction to his fall, not because he was hiding.

“I’ll need to observe him for a while,” the corpsman said, “so might as well get comfortable, Soup.”