Page 38 of Warrior's Walk
“Then why are you laughing?”
“Because whoever did it is a genius.”
“I highly doubt that.”
“It was a mistake,” McCormick swears. More laughter ensues.
“Did you shit in the pool?” I ask, regretting that I need an answer, and regretting even more that I’m going to have to write an incident report about this.
“No! Tell them,” he says to Stiles, smacking his arm.
Stiles is laughing too hard to spit out the words, clutching his belly like it aches. “We were trying to pay homage to pride month by kicking it off with a surprise for everyone.”
McCormick continues for him since he’s now laughing so hard, he’s incapable of speech. “We only meant to dye the pool rainbow colors, but then it all sort of mixed together and turned brown.” He shrugs, and all hell breaks loose. Pharo laughs quietest, but tears stream down his cheeks. West and Brandt have doubled over on top of each other.
“So you didn’t shit in the pool? That’s really all I need to know.”
“Come on, Riggs, do I look like the kind of guy that would shit in the pool?”
I give up. Jax slips out of his chair, falling to his haunches. I can’t see his face behind his hands, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he had tears in his eyes like Pharo.
“Do you really want me to answer that, McCormick? Really?”
“No, sir,” he answers, trying to keep a straight face, although it’s as red as his hair.
“You owe me two volunteer hours in the gym. That’s how long it took me to clean up your mess. You too, Stiles. In the meantime, get a hold of yourselves,” I bark. “Let’s get on with this meeting.”
I might as well have walked out right then because the rest of the hour was just as unproductive as the first ten minutes. Every time someone began to share, someone else would start laughing again, and it was as contagious as a STI.
I’m actually relieved when group is over, which is something I never say. Most of the Bitches head out for wings and beer like they always do after group, but not Rhett, or West. They come back to the gym with me. Rhett has two more hours of physical therapy today, and West is training for the Warrior’s Walk. Nash and West are competing this quarter to see who can finish the obstacle course in the shortest time.
These vets spend weeks, months, and even years rehabilitating after serious injuries, and the Warrior’s Walk is their chance to prove themselves. Not just proving their fitness to others, but to themselves as well. I know from experience, no one is harsher when it comes to judging a soldier's ability than themselves. We are our toughest critics. Always comparing ourselves to what we used to be capable of before we were injured.
Completing the Warrior’s Walk may seem like a cakewalk to someone with two good legs, someone who hasn’t blown out a kidney or a lung, or isn’t suffering from a broken back or shattered knee, but to the injured vets who almost lost everything, including their own lives, and have had to battle every day to come back from that, completing the obstacle course feels like a thousand-mile victory.
But instead of getting started on the treadmill, West is yakking it up with Rhett, as if they didn’t just spend an hour together, bitching. I would call him to attention, but honestly, I’m just glad to see him settling in and making friends. I’ve noticed some resistance in him and I’m pretty sure it’s because of his grief.
After all, who could blame him? He lost his best friend, his unit, his buddies, his career, hell, his whole fucking life. It all went down the drain, along with his mobility and his confidence.
He’s starting over from scratch with nothing but a shred of hope.
Just another reason not to let him in your bed.
I hate how I constantly need to remind myself of the reasons why Rhett is a bad idea. But God, there are so many of them.
He’s only twenty-three years old. I didn’t know my elbow from my ass at twenty-three, not that I’ve learned a whole lot in the last nine years.
He’s at the lowest point of his life and I would just be one more complication he doesn’t need.
His primary focus should be his recovery, not his dick—or mine.
He’s a bisexual flirt who gives any passing ass a second look. I can’t blame him because I was much the same at his age, but I’m not going to make a fool of myself over a guy like him. Way too high risk for failure.
Unfortunately, my heart and my brain aren’t on the same page, and my cock is in a whole other library. Every time my brain reminds me of the red flags, my heart tries to convince me of Rhett’s numerous good qualities… like I need reminding.
“Wardell,” I bark. “You gonna train for the Warrior’s Walk, or just talk about it?”
He laughs and shakes his head. I used to intimidate him, so I must be losing my edge.