Page 40 of Loving a Warrior

“No. Well, at least not till after graduation,” Shane amended with a watery smile. “Then I’m gonna get one night with you, right?”

“A night…or three.” Matt enjoyed the way Shane’s lips parted at the thought. He squeezed his knee once before letting go of him reluctantly. “I guess I should get going. You, uh, need me to pick you up Sunday morning?”

“Nah, I’ll figure something out.”

Running out of excuses to stall, Matt grabbed up his bag of wet clothes and inched toward the door. “Okay, then. Bye, clown.”

“Bye, Soup.”

Turning his back, Matt opened the door and then closed it softly behind him.

* * *

Matt spent a relaxed Saturday, sleeping late and making sure to have a big breakfast. His roommate, Trey, joined him on a short run that afternoon. Wearing shorts and sneakers instead of boots and utes, it felt like running on air.

“What was breakout like?” Matt asked him as they jogged along the Strand, enjoying the sunshine and cool breeze. “You made it to Wednesday of Hell Week, right?”

“Oh, man.” Trey huffed a breathless chuckle. “The instructors promised legendary pain if we rollbacks talked about breakout with you guys. Let me just say it was the scariest, most intense experience of my life.” Matt could see him grimace. “It kinda sucks that I know what to expect, to be honest. I envy you your ignorance, dude.”

Despite Matt’s best efforts to relax, the nervousness and dread coursing through him were making it impossible. Giving up on his attempt to nap, he went for a walk around the base, half-keeping an eye out for Shane, who was nowhere to be found.

Even with all his jumbled nerves, Matt slept well that night, waking up early to go for one last, slow, easy jog. The morning air was crisp and clear, smelling of the sea. As refreshed and invigorated as he could be, Matt was approaching the gate to the base when Alexis’s red car turned in with Shane visible in the passenger seat.

Matt sped up to catch them, and by the time he did, Shane was pulling his large duffel out of the trunk. “Good luck this week,” he heard Alexis saying. “Call me when it’s over.”

“I will.” Shane leaned in the back window to waggle his fingers at Libby. “Bye-bye, punkin’. Have fun at Disney!”

She chortled back at him, and Shane turned to Alexis. “Be careful driving up there, okay?” He paused. “Is, uh, Derek going?”

“No, he has to work.”

“Okay, well, have fun. You deserve some time away.”

Alexis started to back out of the space, and when she caught sight of Matt she called out, “Good luck to you, too! You’re both gonna crush it.”

Matt waved to her, calling out his thanks. Shane slung his duffel over his shoulder and Matt fell into step beside him as they trudged toward the barracks.

“Have a good run?” Shane eyed him, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “Fuck. Just when I think I got a handle on this, you show up all shirtless and sweaty.”

Matt’s nipples tightened painfully in yearning. “Stop it,” he scolded under his breath, willing his cock not to react. “Not helping.”

“You’re not helping. Go away.”

Shane stomped on ahead of him and Matt blew his breath out in an impatient huff. This was ridiculous. Maybe they should just head over to Shane’s house and go at it so they’d be able to concentrate on what was important.

Nah. You can do this.

For the next couple of hours, he focused on laying out and organizing his gear, tightening straps, making sure bootlaces were strong with no frays. He took a long, hot shower and shoved snacks, his iPod and a few magazines he’d been wanting to read in a backpack before grabbing a pillow and blanket and walking with Trey over to the training complex.

Shane was already there with Aaron, but Matt ignored him and claimed a patch of floor along the far wall to make himself a pallet.

“Okay, this is it,” Bernson called out. “From now on, you can only leave this room for head calls. In the meantime, do whatever you want—eat, sleep, listen to music, watch movies.” He paused, his voice turning hard. “But heaven help you if I catch you on social media. Don’t be that guy, the one who has to ring out because he’s fucking stupid. It’s big-boy rules here, people.”

Hoping to zone out and relax, Matt stuck his earbuds in and tuned into one of his mindless playlists, eighties hair-band stuff that was all noise and little substance. He drifted for a while, aware of the restless movements of the guys around him. No one except the couple of rollbacks knew for sure when and how breakout—the official start of Hell Week—would happen, so they were all on edge. Pizzas were brought in at one point, and Bernson encouraged them to eat heartily.

The room was overly warm, smelling of pizza grease and nervous sweat. Men leaned against the wall or sprawled on the floor, some talking, some staring into space. Time crawled by as different movies played in the background. A few guys watched them; most didn’t.

Finally Bernson flipped the overhead lights on and off to get everyone’s attention. “Last chance for a head call,” he said loudly. “After this, no one leaves.”