Page 95 of Loving a Warrior

“Maybe it is.” Alexis’s tone matched his. “Maybe that’ll be our reality, that I have to learn to pick my words and timing of things carefully for his sake. If that’s what he needs, I’ll gladly do it. Because I love him.”

There was a deafening silence.

Finally Alexis grunted. “I’m so sick of this. So sick of you judging me.”

“I’m not judging you—”

“Yes, you are! Because I had what you wanted and I threw it all away. Right?”

No reply from Shane, just dead silence.

“Did you know that Jon used to laugh at you? No, wait. That’s not true. It wasn’t laughter, it was pity. Pity for your sad little crush on the straight boy.”

Matt flinched. He peered around the corner, biting his lip when he saw Shane standing rigidly, white as a sheet.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t ever going to tell you about that,” Alexis said tonelessly, “but it’s so obvious to me you won’t take him down off that fucking hero pedestal unless you know the truth.”

Still no response from Shane.

“News flash: He didn’t love you,” Alexis spat. “He didn’t love me. He only loved himself.”

Shane’s hands clenched at his sides. “Lex…”

Alexis was shaking now. “Did you know I never got a visit from the Navy when he died? Can you guess why? Because he never bothered to add me to his paperwork as next of kin.” She choked on an angry sob. “I found out later he never even told his parents we were engaged. I meant that little to him, Shane.” She gave a mirthless laugh. “I’m so glad I let him leave on deployment without telling him about the baby. She’s mine, not his. Never his.”

“Oh, honey…” Shane took a step toward her but Alexis held up her hand.

“No, stop. You know what? I can’t deal with this right now.” She took a ragged breath. “Do me a favor and just go back to your barracks room tonight. I promise I’ll go home in the morning, but for now just—just leave me alone. Please.”

Matt held his breath as Shane trembled in place, then with a stiff nod he turned and strode out the door. Taking a step after him, Matt hesitated and looked down at Alexis, who was weeping quietly.

“G-go after him, Matt,” she choked, a look of self-loathing crossing her face. “He’ll need you.”

With a nod, Matt ran out of the house. Shane wasn’t on the porch, or next to the car, so Matt peered wildly around, at last catching a glimpse of him far off in the distance. Thanking God he was wearing his athletic shoes and Shane jeans and civilian boots, Matt sprinted after him.

After all that running they’d done in boots and utes, though, Matt could never quite catch up to him. He lost sight of him and slowed, relief swamping him when he spotted Shane charging through the sand on the beach as if he was going to run right into the water.

Matt darted after him, calling his name. When he reached him, Shane was standing calf-deep in the surf, the waves surging up against his thighs. He was breathing hard, muscles bunched, fists clenched at his sides.

“Shane,” Matt whispered, and as if a spell had been broken, Shane threw his head back and howled up at the sky.

“Damn you, Jon!” he shouted. “Fuck you for hurting her like this!”

Despite Shane’s coiled fury, Matt took a few steps toward him, stumbling back when Shane whirled, swinging. “Get away from me, Soup.”

“No.”

Shane advanced on him, his eyes burning with grief and guilt. “Leave me alone.”

“No.”

Matt ducked when Shane swung again, and he drove his shoulder into Shane’s chest, taking him safely down to the sand. They grappled, Shane’s blows wild but largely ineffective. They glanced off Matt’s shoulders, his chest, until at last Shane clutched on to him, fists twisted in Matt’s shirt, his breaths sounding raw and painful.

Matt stroked his hair and whispered nonsense words as Shane sagged against him, his face buried in Matt’s neck. Finally Shane sighed, pushing away from him to sit up and prop his forearms on his upraised knees, head hanging.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped, his voice rough with emotion. He wiped impatiently at the beads of blood that were welling up in the cut on his brow, though his eyes were dry as a bone. “Did I hurt you?”

“Nah,” Matt scoffed, reaching out to run his palm up and down Shane’s back. “Clowns can’t hit.”