Page 10 of Loving a Warrior

Matt did this two or three times until an instructor jerked his head at him, ordering him to surface. He was cut free and he pulled himself from the pool before sprawling out, grateful for being allowed a minute to recover.

“Good job, Alphabet Soup,” Salazar called. Matt gave him a weak nod and a thumbs-up.

Shane exploded from the pool and flopped on the deck next to him like a huge, golden fish. He lay there with a shit-eating grin on his face, eyes wide with adrenaline.

“Having fun?” Matt asked caustically, shaking his head in disbelief when Shane chuckled.

“Yeah, that was awesome.” He sat up and linked his arms loosely around his knees. “Water doesn’t scare me.”

“Well, good for you.” Because it scares the shit out of me.

Shane blinked at his rudeness, but all he said was, “The key to underwater swimming is to go deep early and stay there so you can hold your breath longer. Just a little tip for later.”

He started to get to his feet, and Matt grabbed his forearm to stop him, yanking his hand away immediately at the arousing feel of hard muscle under damp skin.

“Why does that work?” he demanded, aware of how gruff he sounded but unable to stop himself. Jesus, he had to get a motherfucking grip. He took a deep breath, modulating his tone. “Please. I wanna know.”

Shane regarded him for a moment before giving a half-shrug. “Something about the way the pressure compresses your lungs. All I know is it works. Also, don’t panic. Push past the chicken-necking.” He mimicked the motion of a chicken’s head bobbing. “It’s your body trying to force you to breathe and it’ll pass.”

This time when he stood, Matt let him go, muttering, “Thanks, man.”

“No prob, swim buddy.”

Elias trotted over and grabbed Shane in a headlock. “Holy fuck, that was scary. Do I have anything on my pants?” He let Shane go and turned around to display the seat of his trunks. Laughing, Shane slapped his ass, hard, and jostling each other, they headed toward the queue waiting their turn for the underwater swim.

Matt followed more slowly, envying their easy camaraderie, the level of comfort they already had with each other. His own roommate had quit after the first round of surf torture the day before, Dropped on Request. Matt had stumbled back to his room at dusk to find it empty, no trace that Jerrold had ever been there.

At the back of the line Matt waited quietly, tuning out Shane’s and Elias’s jokes, their good-natured trash talk. This swim was crucial, a pass/fail, and they only had two chances to pass it. Already the guys who’d failed the first one were seated along the Wall of Shame, their heads hung low.

The men shut up as they moved inexorably closer to the pool. Rescue swimmers wearing oxygen tanks circled in the water like sharks, and an ambulance idled nearby, corpsmen at the ready.

When Shane’s name was called, he turned to face Matt. “You can do this, Soup. Remember what I told you.”

“Hovland!” the swim instructor called impatiently. “Get your ass in here.”

With a loud “hooyah” Shane jumped into the water, hyperventilated a few deep breaths, then disappeared under the surface. Less than a minute later he was back, hand touching the wall. Instructors were there to help him from the pool if he needed it, but he lifted himself out easily, that same ridiculous grin on his face as he glanced at Matt, his expression saying, “Now beat that.”

Matt did his best to sneer at him even though he was shaking from head to toe. The sound of his name being called made his heart leap into his throat. Do this or you’re out, he told himself fiercely. All the instructors did it. Shane just did it. You can, too.

The swim wasn’t timed, and it was just twenty-five yards down, twenty-five back.

“Easy peasy, Knytych,” the lane grader said, motioning Matt into the pool. “Now get away from that fucking wall. No pushing start. Gimme a good forward roll, and you’d better not let me see you surface or you fail.”

The cadre let him take his time getting ready, and with one last huge breath, Matt went into a forward roll. Immediately water went up his nose, and he choked, losing some of his precious air. Still, he dove straight for the bottom of the pool, Shane’s advice ringing in his ears.

The other wall looked way more than twenty-five yards away, but Matt kept up his clumsy breaststroke, trying to empty his mind of everything but hanging the fuck on.

Slow is smooth, and smooth is fast, he chanted over and over, forcing himself to conserve his energy. When his fingertips touched wall, he went into another roll, bent his legs and shoved away from it with all his might back toward the other side.

It wasn’t enough. The finish line was too far away. Matt’s lungs screamed, his head starting to bob in a desperate bid for air.

“Push through the chicken-necking. It’ll pass.”

Matt kept stroking, kept stroking, even as his vision dimmed. He was a few seconds away from passing out, and panic started to bubble. Dammit, he had to be close. He couldn’t fucking quit now, because if a calm pool under a bright blue sky could defeat him, how would he ever survive out in the open ocean?

Fuck your cowardice. Fuck your cowardice. Fuck—

Then everything went black.