Page 99 of Loving a Warrior

When the storm finally passed, and they sat on the top step leaning against each other, Shane rasped, “That was the hardest fucking conversation I’ve ever had in my entire life.”

Matt kissed his shoulder. “I can’t even imagine. Is everything gonna be okay?”

“Eventually.” Shane heaved an unsteady sigh. “That whole time we were talking, I kept kicking myself for telling you to leave, because I—”

“For some reason I couldn’t leave.” Matt entwined their fingers and squeezed. “I meant to, but I guess something deep inside was telling me you’d need me. So I stayed.”

“I think you really do love me.” Shane’s tired voice throbbed with satisfaction, his eyes gleaming. “Does this mean I get Mushy Matt?”

“Hmph. My capacity for mush is pretty limited, but—” Matt cupped Shane’s face, leaning in to brush his lips over his forehead, his cheeks, and finally his mouth, punctuating each kiss with a whispered “I love you.”

“Mmm. I like it.” Shane grinned, and he looked so beautiful in the moonlight that all Matt’s breath left his lungs in a whoosh. “Go ahead, you can call me a clown now. I know you’re dying to.”

Matt shook his head. “Nah,” he grunted. “We’ll go back to being SEALs and clowns tomorrow. Tonight you’re just my boyfriend.” He stood and yanked Shane to his feet. “Now get me into a fucking shower, fast. This itching is about to make me lose my mind.”

Shane’s deep laugh echoed in the night air. “Never change, Soup,” he said, opening the door and ushering Matt through it with a sharp slap to the ass. “Never change.”

Epilogue

Eight months later

“C-130 rollin’ down the strip. Navy SEALs on a one-way trip. Mission top secret, destination unknown. We don’t know if we’re ever coming home.”

One last run in boots and utes. One last open-ocean swim. Despite his chafed crotch, sweat-soaked skin and the blisters on his feet, Shane could hardly keep the grin off his face.

“Stand up, hook up, shuffle to the door. Jump right out and count to four.”

His new brothers of SEAL Team Three, Task Unit Rebel, Charlie Platoon, ran close to him, their voices lusty as they sang the cadence. After six months of training alongside them, Shane could pick them out individually in the dark by just their silhouettes alone. They’d been through so much together already—Ranger jump school in Georgia, cold-weather training in Alaska, desert survival training in California.

“If my main don’t open wide, I got my reserve here by my side.”

Not everyone was running in boots and utes. Just ahead of Shane, Matt looked like he was floating on air, dressed as he was in running shorts, T-shirt and sneakers. An older man ran alongside him, same height, same build, the only difference between them the craggy lines on his face and the tattoos that snaked around his biceps and down his forearms. One of his legs bore a huge raised scar, a permanent memento of the Battle of Mogadishu.

Matt had broken the news to Shane when they were lying in bed one night.

“Your uncle is coming to my fucking Trident Swim?”

Matt raised his eyebrows as Shane’s voice went all high and squeaky. Rolling to his side, he propped himself up on his elbow and put his hand on Shane’s chest. “Yeah,” he said matter-of-factly. “He’s gonna PT with us, too. He said if you’re gonna be with me, you’d better keep up.”

“Oh my fucking God.”

Laughing at Shane’s distress, Matt stretched out on top of him. “He’s gonna love you, don’t worry. Just, uh, you know, keep up.”

Now here they all were, the guys in boots and cammies just one ocean swim away from receiving their Tridents, and the ones who’d already earned theirs enjoying life in their shorts and T-shirts. Shane had been in Alaska when Matt got his, but he’d seen the pictures, Matt standing at attention in his sodden utilities, lips pressed tightly together as his uncle pinned his Trident on.

“I was crying like a fucking baby, Shane.”

He’d been offered a billet on Team Five, meaning he and Shane would frequently be on opposite sides of the globe, but at least they were stationed on the same coast. In their world, that was as good as it was gonna get.

At the call to right face, the group, moving as one, veered off the asphalt to run on the sand toward the water. Shane’s calves and thighs were screaming, the weight of the sledgehammer on his back not helping matters. Still, he barely noticed the pain, as high as he was on adrenaline and happiness.

Down at the ocean’s edge, the men stripped off their boots and donned fins, the Trident holders following suit, Matt included. Uncle Rick stayed on the beach, offering his arm to Alexis, who took it gratefully. She was here alone. Derek had stayed home with Libby and their newborn son.

Shane smiled as she caught his eye and gave him a tiny wave. This had to be excruciating for her, reliving all this after having gone through it once with Jon. It was a testament to how far they’d come in the last several months that she was even here, and Shane was fiercely grateful for that.

“Into the water, gents!”

With one last wink at Lex, Shane turned and ran into the water with his guys, the sledgehammer still strapped to his back. He’d share the burden with one of his brothers, passing the sledge back and forth during the three-and-a-half mile swim.