Page 7 of Loving a Warrior

“Yes, Drill Instructor!”

“You better be polishing that shitter and not runnin’ your fucking pie hole. You runnin’ your fucking pie hole in here?”

“No, sir!”

“You a liar, recruit?”

“No, sir!”

“Drop and gimme thirty, dick stain.”

Then, just like that, the drill instructor’s harsh voice morphed into one of dark velvet.

“What’d you go and join the Marines for, Shay-Shay? You know I never promised you anything.”

“Morning.”

Jolted out of his memories, Shane turned to see a man approaching through the gloom, hunched into an oversized hoodie, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Hey.” Grateful for the distraction, Shane greeted him heartily, the lingering echoes of Jon’s voice drifting away on the morning breeze. “Looks like we’re the only ones here.”

The man lifted his head and Shane couldn’t help but laugh. “You again. Run into you once, then start seeing you everywhere.”

“Hmph.”

Shane followed him in and let the gate clang shut behind them. “Sorry, I don’t know your name.”

“Matt.”

“I’m Shane.”

No response.

Oh-kay.

Shane studied him covertly as they waited. Matt was several inches shorter than his own six-two, with brown hair and a square jaw, his eyes hooded by heavy brows and dark with intensity. His skin was light, almost pale, as if he hadn’t spent much time in the sun. Swallowed up in the huge sweatshirt Matt appeared almost slight, but when Shane had smashed into him that day, it’d been like hitting a brick wall. The dude was pure fucking muscle.

“So, Matt…you ready for this?”

Matt flicked his gaze up. “I am,” he said, a thread of steel in his voice that made something inside Shane sit up and take notice.

This guy’s a meat-eater. He wants this.

“Hey, thanks for coming out to help.” Their class leader, Noah, hurried up, and between the three of them they managed to wrestle the pool cover into submission before getting to work stringing lane dividers the length of the water.

More men started to straggle in as they finished up. A few minutes before 0500, Shane reluctantly stripped off his sweats, and clad in just his canvas swim trunks, joined the rest of his classmates huddling up in rows, bobsled fashion, like they’d been instructed to do in their class meeting.

“Wow, don’t I feel like a fuckin’ faggot,” someone said loudly as he pressed his chest against the back of the man sitting between his legs, the guy behind him doing the same to him.

“Nut to butt, dude. Gotta love it.”

“You know what I’d love? For you assholes to grow the fuck up,” someone else grated. “This ain’t high school and no one gives a shit how macho you think you are.”

Shane stared at the idiots who’d spoken first, their sneers and snickers audible. What would they say if they knew?

A long night standing watch. An impulsive whispered confession followed by a few heart-stopping beats of silence. Then, “Aww, we love ya no matter what, Hov. You’ll always be one of us, brother.”

A surge of fondness made Shane smile. “Miss you, Marines,” he breathed, resolving to call those dudes to catch up the first chance he got.