Page 24 of Loving a Warrior

“If this is the attitude you’re bringing to BUD/S, might as well save yourself the humiliation of ringing the bell and quit now.”

“What the hell?” Shane sputtered. “Fuck you!”

Matt was unperturbed when Shane loomed over him. “Am I wrong? There’s a saying in the teams, ‘The only way to eat an elephant is one bite at a time.’ To a SEAL there aren’t any tasks too overwhelming. None. Fix your eyes on the goal, break each task down into manageable bites, and keep going till you’re finished. You said it yourself on that run the other day…it’s not gonna last forever. You can get through almost anything if you approach it like that.”

Shane’s anger drained away as bemusement took its place. “I think that little speech is the most I’ve ever heard you say at one time. No, seriously,” he went on as Matt’s face darkened. “That was some verbal vomit coming from you.”

“Aww, whatever.” Matt flapped his hand at him as he yanked open the front door and strode to his truck. “Should’ve known better than to try and pep talk a clown.”

“I appreciate it, though!” Shane called after him, cracking up when Matt stuck his middle finger out the window as he peeled away from the curb. “And for the record, you’re right!”

The only reply was the screech of Matt’s tires when he took the corner without even slowing, and chuckling, Shane headed back into the house.

Chapter Six

Matt hit the ground so hard he saw stars, and while he lay there stunned, at least three guys stomped on his back as they scrambled for the Frisbee he’d dropped.

“You’re ‘it,’ Soup,” someone crowed. Matt shook off his daze and jumped to his feet, searching wildly for who had the Frisbee. He caught a glimpse of it sailing over him and he jumped for it, only to miss by a mile.

“Ha! Shrimp.” The taunt was only too familiar. Matt snarled as he wheeled around and barreled toward Shane’s voice. Shane beckoned to him with one hand as he spun the Frisbee on the tip of his finger with the other, whipping it away a fraction of a second before Matt could tackle him. “Sucker!”

Matt turned his forward momentum into a hip check that sent Shane staggering, his arms windmilling as he tried to keep his balance.

“Whoops.” Matt winced when Shane lost his battle with gravity and came down hard on his ass. “That was way harder than I meant it to be. Sorry about that.” He offered his hand and pulled Shane back to his feet.

“Thanks. No harm done.” Shane clapped him on the shoulder and loped off.

It was amazing, Matt thought as he lunged for possession of a red plastic disk like his life depended on it, how a group of Type-A guys could turn tossing a Frisbee around into a violent, bloody game of Keep Away.

And fuck if it wasn’t epic!

Matt roared, going low to slam into the back of Elias’s knees, taking him down. The Frisbee he’d been clutching skittered away. Matt flung himself on top of it, fully prepared to fight his way out of the dogpile that was about to ensue.

“Hooyah, Instructor Salazar!”

At Noah’s yell, everyone froze, then scrambled to their feet. “Instructor Salazar!”

“How come I’m not holding a beer yet?” Salazar bellowed, and the guy standing nearest the keg rushed to pull him one.

The Frisbee game broke up when people wandered toward the drinks, which to Matt’s relief included several coolers of sodas and water as well as the keg. He noticed a handful of his classmates going for the soft drinks, too, including Shane, although a lot of the other guys were already drunk.

Matt wiped the blood off his split lip with a napkin and ran his hand self-consciously over his shaved head. The stubble felt weird, but anyone who showed up with more than that on Monday would pay dearly. One of his fellow trainees had brought an electric clipper to do the honors for everyone, and now with a break in the festivities the unmistakable buzz started up again. Matt glanced over just in time to see Shane’s blond hair paying the price.

Fuck, even his skull is beautiful.

Most everyone, including himself, was walking around like a Q-tip, but Shane managed to look like a high-fashion model, all sculpted cheekbones and full lips. Damn.

“Hey, Soup, want a burger?”

Matt turned to see the guy manning the grill proffering him one, and with a smile of thanks, he took it. After fixing it up and loading down his plate with various side items, Matt made his way over to where a bunch of dudes were sprawled on the ground. He hesitated. A couple of them still weren’t speaking to him, but most of them seemed to have gotten past the room-trashing fiasco, especially since he’d been making a concerted effort to apologize to everyone individually. Other than doing that and owning his shit, there wasn’t much else he could do.

Taking a deep breath, he dropped to sitting, fist bumps and murmurs of “Soup, how’s it hangin’” greeting him. The conversation was desultory as everyone stuffed their faces, but eventually Salazar dragged a canvas chair over to join them, beer in hand.

“Instructor Salazar, weren’t you with Team Three?” one of the guys piped up.

“I was. Did two combat deployments with them, and when I’m done with my training cycle here, I have orders to Team Five.”

“Ever think about DEVGRU?” someone asked daringly. Matt held his breath, wondering how his instructor would respond to the question about joining the Naval Special Warfare Development Group, or DEVGRU, the benign, not-so-secret name for the fabled SEAL Team Six.