Page 67 of Loving a Warrior

“Told him not to expect any calls or emails while I was in BUD/S, that I wouldn’t have any time for him. Basically treated him like a piece of ass,” Matt said ruefully. “We’ve been friends for years, with benefits off and on. Met in high school, all that jazz.”

“Yeah, high school fuck buddies. Good times.”

“Tom’s a great guy. For the most part he puts up with my crap because the sex is pretty good.”

“Lucky Tom. I wouldn’t know.”

Matt glared at him. “Give it a rest. And I mean a literal rest. You. Rest.”

“I’m resting. I’m resting.” Shane flopped back into his chair. A brief silence fell, broken only by the ticking of the appliances in the kitchen. Matt thought maybe he’d fallen asleep when suddenly he said, “I met Jon in middle school.”

“Yeah? When he started dating Alexis?”

“Nah. Alexis was only in sixth grade when we met. He and I were in eighth.”

Stretching out on the couch, Matt stacked his hands under his head and got comfortable, watching Shane’s profile as he stared at the ceiling.

“He’d just moved to Florida from Saudi Arabia. His dad worked for one of the big petroleum companies and he’d lived there for years.”

“That must’ve been an interesting childhood.”

Shane smiled. “He could speak fluent Arabic, and he played soccer like a fiend, a lot more aggressively than we were used to on our crappy school team. After one match I somehow ended up with a concussion and Jon brought homemade cookies over to my house as an apology.”

“That was nice of him.”

“We ended up talking for hours,” Shane said dreamily. “It was so cool, hearing about Saudi Arabia and all the interesting people. At that time I’d never even been out of Florida.” He glanced at Matt. “He’d met a lot of SEALs, too, guys pulling security for the embassy folks and other VIPs.”

“Is that why he decided to become a SEAL?”

“That’s all he ever wanted. He was kind of like you in a way, always working out, really focused on his goal.” Shane shook his head. “Dude could hold his breath underwater what seemed like forever. He was just larger than life, you know? The kind of guy you always think of as bulletproof.”

Matt could see Shane’s hand, lying along the armrest of his chair, clench into a fist. He waited, but all Shane said was, “Can you help me back to bed now? I’m tired.”

“C’mon.” Matt got him up and out of his chair, supporting him as he shuffled down the hallway to his room. They crawled into bed, and without a word Matt drew him into his arms, stroking his hair gently as Shane drifted off to sleep, his head tucked up under Matt’s chin.

When they woke up again, Matt cajoled Shane into going for a short run. He kept the pace slow and easy, but about two miles into it, Shane suddenly slowed.

“Hey, do you mind if we walk for a bit?”

Matt looked over at Shane in concern.

“Just some twinges in my thigh. I’d rather save my stamina for when it counts, since I don’t need to impress you anymore.”

“You never did impress me,” Matt pointed out, smirking when Shane threw up his hands.

“Let me rephrase that. Since I stopped trying to impress you, okay?”

They snickered together as they dropped to sit on the sand. Without being asked, Matt reached over to massage the cramping muscles in Shane’s thigh, wishing he had some lotion. Shane closed his eyes, every now and then letting out a faint hiss when Matt’s fingers dug into a particularly painful spot.

“Ow! Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“Yes, I know what I’m doing, so shut up.” He kept on working the muscle, and eventually the knots eased. “There,” he said, giving Shane’s thigh one last little pat.

“Ah, much better.” Shane sprawled on his back in the sand. “What was your major in college? No, wait. Don’t tell me—physical therapy.”

“Close. Health and exercise science.”

Letting out a lazy chuckle, Shane rolled his head to look at him. “Aww, that’s perfect. Mr. Workout himself.”