Page 28 of Keeping a Warrior

Devon turned to face him. “But Charlie platoon is our sister platoon. If you wanted to avoid him, why transfer into his task unit?”

SEAL teams were comprised of four sixteen-man platoons, two platoons to a task unit. Task units usually deployed together, although they were each assigned to different areas of operation. Shane’s platoon was rumored to be bound for Syria, while Devon and Matt’s was slated for Afghanistan.

Matt’s lips twisted. “My task unit in Five was down by so many guys, they were talking about absorbing the rest of us into one of the East Coast teams. If I went East Coast...”

Devon winced. The West Coast teams had recently been rocked by a rash of drug scandals—dudes who’d popped positive and been relieved of their duties. Task units were being shuffled, commanders were being fired.

“I can’t leave him and go East Coast,” Matt whispered. “When I heard there was an opening at Delta, I jumped at the chance.” His eyes gleamed. “Plus, Delta was in line for deployment. Stay close to Shane; get to deploy. Win-win.”

“Well, now you’re going to get the chance to work directly with him,” Devon said encouragingly. “Here’s your chance to fix whatever’s wrong.”

“You don’t know how badly I fucked up, Devon. You have no idea.”

“Fuck-ups can be fixed.”

“Some can. This one?” He sounded so sad that Devon put her hand on his forearm and squeezed.

“I’m sorry.”

“But you know what? That clown was supposed to stay in his own goddamn platoon!” Matt’s voice rose indignantly. “Not come here and get in my face.”

“I take it you’re not out like he is?”

Matt froze for a split second. “No. And before you think that has anything to do with this, it doesn’t. Shane’s decision to come out is his own, just like not coming out is mine. He’d never in a million years expect me to do something I’m not ready for.”

“Got it.” Devon paused. “So why did you two break up, then?”

“Because I’m an idiot.” Pushing off the side of the van, Matt said, “Can we talk about this later? I’m—”

“Hey, FNG!” They both whipped their heads toward Grizz, who had his hands cupped around his mouth as he shouted across the parking lot, “Flirt with the lady some other time and get your ass over here in those vans.”

“Shit.” They hustled into their respective driver’s seats and drove over to the entrance. As the guys piled in, Matt approached Grizz. They had a short, intense conversation, and then Grizz strode over to Devon, motioning for her to roll down her window.

When she did, he leaned in close. “I apologize, Ms. Lowe. My comment about flirting was completely out of line.” He sounded sincere, and his eyes were steady on hers. “Knytych said you two were having a serious discussion, not flirting, and the next time I make a sexist assumption like that, he’s gonna kick my nuts in. He’s absolutely correct, and I apologize.”

Devon was so taken aback at first that all she could do was stare at him. Then she said quietly, “I appreciate that. Apology accepted.”

Grizz tapped her door with his fist and started to walk away before whirling back around. “Just so you know, if there’s any resistance to you being here, it isn’t because of J-Rob’s death.”

Devon gave a bitter snort. “Yeah, right.”

“Mullet was on Jon’s boat crew. They were roommates at BUD/S.” Grizz held up his hand. “I’m not trying to make excuses for him, but you gotta realize those sorts of ties run deep...deeper than family sometimes. Outsiders don’t always understand.”

Devon did understand, that the bonds formed in the crucible of BUD/S were almost impossible to sever, even in death.

“I’ll tell you what I tell all my new guys,” Grizz went on. “Keep yourself squared away and do your job. That’s all that matters, okay? Do your job, and woman or not, the trust will grow. Got it?”

“Hooyah.”

He strode off toward the other van and climbed inside. Matt caught Devon’s eye and gave her a tiny half salute. “We got this,” his expression seemed to say. “You and me.”

A faint glow of warmth took root in Devon’s chest as she put the van in gear and started to follow Matt over to the airfield.

“Wait!”

Devon slammed on the brakes. A second later the passenger door was wrenched open and Rhys leapt into the seat, flushed and with his hair sticking up everywhere. “Sorry,” he said, trying in vain to smooth down his bedhead. “Overslept.”

He gave her his endearingly crooked grin, but then he sobered, his gaze searching hers. “You okay? I’m sorry about last night.”