Page 57 of SEAL of Valor

You idiot. I want to scream at myself as tears fill my eyes. I hurt him again.

All while trying to make amends. In fact, every time I try to make things better, it goes horribly sideways. What else can I do, though? I have to make this right. Even if it’s only so he can move forward with his life.

How could I not see that leaving the way that I did would trap him in the past?

The mirrors.

The lack of relationships.

He’s spent two decades frozen in the worst nights of his life…because I left him there.

Chapter 16

Weston

“Come on, you can hit harder than that,” I taunt Ryker as I bounce on the balls of my feet. We’ve been at it for nearly four hours now, with minimal breaks between rounds. Blood drips from my nose, but I wipe it away with the back of my hand and take my stance again.

“I’m out,” he says and puts up both hands.

“What do you mean ‘you’re out’?” I follow him toward the edge of the ring, desperate for more. More hits, more exhaustion. Because maybe if my body takes a beating, then the pain in my chest will let up.

“I’m not going to beat you bloody just so you can choose to ignore what you should be facing head-on.” He takes off his hand wraps, then downs some water from his water bottle.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ryker eyes me, brow raised. “You and I both know what you’re doing.”

“Avoiding Reese?” Sawyer announces as he comes into the gym, bag in hand. “Man, Cowboy, what did Tank do to your face?”

“I’m fine.”

“You were purposely taking hits,” Ryker accuses. “And I have no interest in serving you pain.”

He’s right. And knowing that he sees it, too, has defeat settling over me. “I need the distraction.”

“You’re not getting any more of it from me.” Ryker tosses his wraps down and rolls his shoulders.

“Don’t look at me, either,” Sawyer says when my gaze shifts to him.

“Not too long ago, you were doing the exact same thing after Anastasia rejected you,” I snap.

“Except I wasn’t taking hits on purpose. I was just distracted. Come on, Cowboy, you’re better than this.”

But am I?

Am I really?

Because I haven’t even been able to sleep in my bed since she was in it the night of that storm. No matter how many times I wash the sheets, I smell her. She used my shampoo, but it’s not my clove bodywash I smell.

It’s her.

Jasmine and fresh linen.

And it guts me.

“I’ll step up.” Zane plucks the headphones off his head and crosses over from where he’d been doing solo mat work.

“Cap—” Sawyer starts.