Page 3 of Loving a Warrior

“When I did the Ironman last year, I finished in the top ten in my age division.”

“Dude, on mile fifty of that ultramarathon in the desert…”

“I qualified for the Olympic swimming team, but…”

On and on and on. Matt rolled his eyes.

“Hey, I think you have the room next to mine. Elias Medina.”

Matt turned to see a tall guy with jet-black hair and golden brown skin smiling at him, his hand out.

“Matt Knytych.”

As they shook, Elias said, “This is my second run at BUD/S. You?”

“Nope. First-timer.”

Smirking, Elias lifted his chin toward the group of men still trying to top each other’s athletic achievements. “Lemme tell you, I cried like a baby during Hell Week. I ended up ringing out halfway through, and some scrawny-ass motherfucker made it and is now in the teams. Ultramarathons don’t mean shit.”

“Yeah, I think those guys have seen one too many movies.” Matt hesitated, then said, “My uncle was actually in the teams back in the day. Team Four out of Little Creek.”

“What the fuck? Really?” Elias’s eyes widened with excitement. “What’s the secret to getting through Hell Week?” He grabbed Matt’s arm. “You gotta tell me!”

Matt laughed. “Sorry, but there’s no ‘secret’ to getting through Hell Week. You just do it.”

Elias’s face fell as he let go. “Figured as much.”

“And I hate to break it to those assholes,” Matt went on, “but Ironman scores aren’t gonna mean much here. My uncle says this training is ninety percent mental.”

“Hell yeah, it is. I’m proof. Started feeling sorry for myself, and once I did, that was it. Couldn’t get it together after that.”

Matt gave him a commiserating wince, and Elias socked him lightly on the shoulder, his attention caught by something off in the distance.

“Hey, there’s my roommate.” Elias gestured toward a red compact car in the parking lot and a man and woman standing next to it. “Whoa, his girl’s fine. Lucky fuck.”

Matt barely noticed the woman or the baby she was holding, since his eyes were fixed on the back of the dude’s blond head. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, but those shoulders, that muscular back, those long legs…

“He used to be a Marine,” Elias was saying. “Hey, Shane!” He waved his arms. The guy—Shane—glanced over and held his finger up in a wait a minute motion before leaning down to kiss the woman on the cheek.

The delay was all Matt needed, so he swiftly took the coward’s way out.

“I’ll just meet him later,” he called to Elias as he took off in the direction of the main gate and the jogging path. “Need to get some miles in. See ya!”

As he ran, the same word skittered through his mind over and over.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Here he was, about to start some of the toughest military training in the world, and he needed to have his head one hundred percent in the game. Instead, he was already letting himself get distracted. By a hot guy. In a world full of hot guys.

What’re you, fourteen? Get it together!

Veering off the path, Matt barreled toward the surf and dove into it, fully clothed. The frigid water punched the breath from his lungs, and he gasped for air as he floated, letting the cold seep into his very bones.

Could that Shane guy handle this? Or was he one of those gym rats who thought his bench-press numbers equaled toughness?

Matt grinned to himself. Yeah, the odds were real good Shane would wash out early, just like three-fourths of the men out in that commons would. The attrition rate in the SEAL program was, and always would be, brutal.

All Matt had to do was avoid Shane while he waited around for him to fail. It wouldn’t take long, maybe it’d even happen the first day. Hell Week for sure.