Page 20 of Keeping a Warrior

She didn’t have the answers to their concerns, especially the ones about unit cohesion, or the effect of integrated teams on the families at home.

“There’s already enough drama with the wives.”

What Devon did know was that right now all eyes were on her, and she wasn’t going to screw it up.

Taking her place coolly in the middle of the pack, Devon went into some warm-up stretches. There was a wolf whistle from behind as she bent over, which was clearly intended to rattle her. She ignored it.

“Knock it off and grow up,” came an irritable voice, which sounded a lot like Rhys’s. Devon smiled to herself, then turned her focus inward.

Grizz rode them hard: push-ups, burpees, sit-ups, flutter kicks. There was no equipment, so it was all body weight exercise, and soon Devon’s hands were scraped from the rough asphalt.

“There goes your manicure.”

Grizz stood over her as she went into yet another set of push-ups—chest down, push clear off the ground, clap, then chest down. She didn’t bother to answer. Her nails were well within regulation, not longer than her fingertips, and they weren’t a jarring color. She liked them, and if Grizz didn’t, too bad.

The workout dragged on. Devon didn’t complain. She didn’t cry. Even if she couldn’t do as many reps as the men did, she didn’t quit, either. By the end of the session, guys were coming up to high-five her.

“Good effort.”

“Way to stick it out.”

Devon wiped her sweaty face on her sleeve with a sense of triumph. All those endless CrossFit classes, miles on the treadmill and hours in the gym had been worth it.

Hooyah, motherfuckers. This is what a well-trained woman looks like. Put that in your survey and smoke it.

After PT, they dispersed to take showers, then gathered out front to head the short distance to their first training evolution. The mood was high-spirited, anticipatory. Even Devon was caught up in it.

Rhys jogged up to her, smiling. “Way to crush it, dude.”

“Thanks. I’ve worked my ass off to get where I am.”

“It shows.” He hesitated. “Do you, uh, work out with your boyfriend a lot?”

“My boyfriend?”

Rhys blushed, and the light came on. He was trying to find out her status.

Ah, he’s such a cutie.

“No boyfriend,” she said, smiling. “And I don’t want one, either. I’m a love-’em-and-leave-’em kinda gal. A lot of guys are threatened by what I do. In fact, one told me he couldn’t date a woman with a more ‘manly’ job than he had.”

“What? That’s ridiculous.”

“They also like to ask me if I’ve ever killed anyone. Like that’s dinner conversation.”

“Yeah, trying to talk about that kind of stuff with someone who can’t possibly understand...not recommended.” Rhys’s voice was bleak.

“That’s why I’ve never tried.”

Their eyes met.

“Well, if you ever want to talk about it—if you ever need to—come knock on my door, Devon.” He attempted to smile. “I’m the king of two a.m. grocery shopping trips.”

Devon couldn’t even count how many times painful memories had risen up and driven her out of bed in the middle of the night to wander the wide, brightly lit aisles of the twenty-four-hour grocery store on the corner.

She nodded. “Maybe I’ll see you there sometime.”

Before Rhys could answer, Mullet ran up and yelled exuberantly, “C’mon, guys! Let’s go crash some cars!”