Page 36 of Loving a Warrior

Matt could only stand there, stunned, as Shane keyed in the code for his room, shoved his door open and slammed it behind him. After another moment’s hesitation, Matt turned toward his own room. He waited for the relief to hit, but instead a vague sense of loss swamped him as whatever had been budding between them died a wet and sandy death.

Chapter Nine

“Everywhere we go…people wanna know…”

Matt sang along to the cadence as he ran, his boots hitting the hard sand rhythmically.

“…who we are…and where the hell we come from…”

Beachgoers along the Silver Strand peered at them, their faces admiring. A couple of bikini-clad women whistled as the long column of men trotted past.

“We are the Navy…the mighty, mighty Navy!”

He might be putting on a good show for the civilians, but Matt was beat to shit by a long night of open-ocean swims. This was the last push before Hell Week, and the instructors were giving them a little taste of what to expect.

Since they’d had a chance to dry out on their long beach run, they were ordered to roll in the surf before being allowed to eat a cold MRE. As they huddled, dripping, over their packaged meals, instructors walked around harassing them, dumping paddles full of sand over their heads and down their backs.

Matt flinched as a shower of grit landed in his beef stew, but he ate it anyway, not knowing when he’d get anything else. All around him guys were bitching and moaning.

“I’ve been colder, more tired and more hungry in the teams than I ever was in BUD/S,” Bernson snapped. “As a SEAL you have to perform even when you’re miserable. Even when you’re injured. It’s not glamorous. It’s not fun. It’s a dangerous, dirty, exhausting business. We don’t have a nine-to-five workday, people.”

Matt hunkered down and ate his sandy stew, watching impassively as two guys quit, whisked away in one of the pickup trucks that followed the trainees everywhere.

“Those guys apparently don’t want this life. And that’s okay, that’s on them. But if you do, or think you do, be prepared for nights, weeks, of this. We only want men who can perform. That’s right. Not only survive, but perform.”

Matt glanced at Shane, who was sitting not far away methodically eating his cold jambalaya. He looked pale and tired, with a scrape on his forehead from an unfortunate encounter with a rogue wave earlier, which caught him and slammed him into the sand. Matt wanted to go see how he was doing, but he didn’t. Since that night on the barracks landing a week and a half ago, he’d been careful to keep their interactions neutral, professional.

“All right, fellas. Break time’s over.”

After cleaning up their trash, they lifted their boats high and jogged back toward the base, where they were herded into the classroom.

Matt took frantic notes as Bernson went over what they were expected to bring with them on Sunday for the start of Hell Week, including a paper bag with a change of dry clothes for when they made it to the end…or DORed.

He then gave them a thundering pep talk, concluding with, “I want to shake each and every one of your hands on Friday after Hell Week is secured. Good luck, men.”

To Matt’s relief, Bernson dismissed them early. It was a quiet group that made their way out of the classroom to wash off and stow their gear in the drying cages, the upcoming ordeal weighing heavily on each of their minds.

After a hot shower and change of clothes, Matt headed for his truck, intending to hit up the commissary for some drinks and snacks for the weekend. Not far from the parking lot, Shane was pacing back and forth, probably waiting for Alexis and his usual Friday night ride.

His movements seemed agitated, so Matt, after a brief hesitation, walked over to him.

“Everything okay?”

Shane glared at his phone, then Matt. “She’s not here and she isn’t answering.” He grabbed up his duffel and stalked in the direction of the barracks.

“Hell, I can drive you home,” Matt offered impulsively. “No problem.”

Shane stopped walking and turned around, indecision written all over his face. “You sure?”

“Of course. C’mon.”

When they were ensconced in Matt’s truck, Shane muttered, “Thanks. I’m so pissed right now, you don’t even know. I told her how important this weekend is.”

“I think at this point you need to take some of your house money and buy yourself a fuckin’ car.”

“No shit.” Shane slumped back in his seat. “Actually, the loan came through about a week ago.”

“Oh? Did you pay her off?”