Page 17 of Loving a Warrior

Matt didn’t want to watch Shane’s tender reunion with his wife, so he turned his back and trudged toward his room. Doors were standing open and guys were calling out to each other as they made their plans.

“Hey, Soup! Wanna hit McP’s with us tonight?”

McP’s was an Irish pub in downtown Coronado that was known to be a team bar. Privately Matt didn’t think they’d earned the right to go there and drink with real Navy SEALs yet, so he declined the invitation.

Elias shrugged, and with a clap to Matt’s shoulder disappeared back into his room. Matt unlocked his, loneliness sweeping over him at the sight of the empty half of it. He hadn’t been assigned a new roommate yet and he suspected that was part of the reason Salazar had targeted him with the inspection stunt, to see if he’d call on his classmates to start building the foundation of teamwork that would be so sorely needed during BUD/S.

What had he done instead? Alienated the very guys he should have been gathering around him. Luckily Salazar had provided him a way to redeem himself with that O-course challenge, and thank Christ he’d been up to it.

He had a clean slate now. And he wasn’t gonna fuck it up again.

After a quick shower, Matt dressed and ran down to the parking lot, intending to drive somewhere and treat himself to dinner. As he made his way toward his beat-up old truck, he caught a glimpse of a figure slumped on a nearby bench, duffel at his feet.

What the hell?

Matt trotted over and stood in front of Shane. “Everything okay?”

Shane glanced up at him, a hollow look in his eyes. “Not really. Just had an epic fight with my sister.”

What?

“Your sister?” Matt’s voice went all high and squeaky. Shane quirked his lips at him inquiringly as Matt’s face burned. “This whole time I thought she was your wife,” he finished lamely.

Shane chuckled. “Fuck, no. Alexis is my younger sister.”

“Oh.” Matt shuffled his feet awkwardly. So the dude wasn’t married. That didn’t change a goddamn thing.

“I’m, uh, sorry you had a fight.”

“Thanks. Me, too.”

He should walk away now, but something about Shane’s dejected posture made him blurt, “I was gonna grab some chow off base. Wanna come?”

A look of surprise crossed Shane’s face, but he stood up without hesitation. “Sure.”

It was a long, silent walk to Matt’s truck, where Shane tossed his duffel into the bed before climbing into the passenger seat. The cab felt way too dark and intimate, Shane’s big body entirely too close. Gripping the steering wheel tightly, Matt asked, “Any preferences on food?”

“Um, I know a great little street taco place over in IB, if that works for you.”

With a nod, Matt hung a right on the Strand toward the neighboring town of Imperial Beach. Shane gave quiet directions, and it wasn’t long until they were seated at an outdoor table with an icy cold bottle of Corona for Shane and a Coke for Matt.

Shane took a long pull of his beer and smacked his lips in satisfaction. “Nothing like a cold one after a stressful week, huh?”

Matt shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.” Gah, could he be any more awkward?

A short silence before Shane tried again. “Where are you from?”

“North Dakota.”

With a raised eyebrow, Shane said, “Ah. You’re a landlubber.” When Matt nodded, he went on, “Had you ever seen the ocean before this? In person, I mean.”

“No.” He’d never forget his first sight of it, either, stretching off into the distance, the sheer power behind the waves crashing against the shore making him feel small and insignificant. “Is it that obvious?”

“Eh, you’re fine. You don’t panic, and that’s half the battle.”

Matt took a swallow of his Coke, welcoming the caffeine and sugar hit. “What about you? Where are you from?”

“Florida, a little place called Sanibel Island. Have you heard of it?”