Page 40 of Warrior's Walk
His leg buckles, but he catches himself halfway down. West gives me a hesitant look, and I can tell he’s worried, but he should know better. I wouldn’t push Rhett this hard if I didn’t think he could take it. I did the same exact thing to him, and it was exactly what he needed.
Rhett groans, a primal sound of pain and effort as he works to pull himself back up. His next step is wider, and I recognize the move. He’s trying to cheat, to cover more distance in less time. At least, that’s what he’s thinking, but as a therapist, I know better. The move is going to cost him dearly. It takes more effort and puts more strain on his muscles to lunge than it does to take an extra step.
With a cry of relief, he stumbles over his feet the last three steps, crashing against West's solid chest as he threatens to knock them both over. West catches him in his arms and sets him on his feet as I hurry over with his crutches.
“I did it!” He’s practically sobbing—a combination of pain, adrenaline, exhaustion, and relief.
“You fucking did it,” West agrees.
“Which means you can do it again tomorrow.” The look West gives me warns me I’m pushing my luck, and the look Rhett gives me confirms it. Fuck it, that’s my job, and I’m damn good at it. This is what it takes to get back on your feet again. Neither of them have to like it, but they’re both walking, so my methods speak for themselves. “The next time you feel like quitting on me, just remember this; you’re not quitting onme, soldier, you’re quitting on yourself.”
“I’m going to take off,” West says. “But I’ll be back tomorrow if you need a cheerleader.”
“Are you gonna wear a fuckin’ skirt?” Rhett teases.
West chuckles and claps Rhett on the back. “I only wear that for Brandt. Sorry.”
He walks off with a backward glance at me, probably warning me to take it easy on Rhett. When I turn back to Rhett, I’m facing the full force of his anger, a look I’ve never seen on his face before. It’s fucking magnificent.
His eyes are burning shards of jade. Long strands of sweaty hair tease his forehead, and my fingers itch to swipe them aside. His lips are pulled into a tight line, and I can tell he’s about to hand me my ass.
Go for it, soldier. I’m just going to hand it right back to you.
“I can’t figure you out,” he snarls.
“Good luck. I wouldn’t even bother if I were you.”
“No, you were different. Back there, in Afghanistan, you cared. You were kind. We had a co?—”
“A connection?” I scoff, making light of the feelings I know for a fact we both felt. It’s the only way I can maintain a safe distance between us. Especially after seeing him walk today. He needs me, but not as a lover. He needs me as his therapist, andI can’t do that if I’m fucking him. “Don’t kid yourself. I was just doing my job. Showing concern and compassion for my patient. It wasn’t a connection, it was professionalism.”
Rhett searches my face, looking deep into my eyes. I know what he’s looking for, a trace of the man he thought he recognized. “No, I’m not buying that,” he says disbelievingly. “I know what I felt.”
I laugh cruelly. “What you felt was someone being nice to you after months alone in the desert. What you felt was in your pants, not your head.”
His face hardens into a defensive mask. Whatever he’s thinking about me right now, I can bet none of them are good thoughts. This is the only way I can shut him down for good. This has to happen.
“You think you’re a badass?” I continue, adding insult to injury. “You’re not. You’re just another soldier who got hurt. My gym is full of them; look around. Most of them wear a bigger chip on their shoulder than you do. You’ll have to try harder than that, kid, if you want to be a badass, and if all you want to do is write my name next to the notches carved into your headboard, it’s not going to happen. Go get your dick wet somewhere else, and when you’re done, you can come back here and show me what you’ve got. Don’t step foot in my gym again unless you’re ready to get your ass kicked and you’re ready to work.”
My heart burns like I was stung by a hornet when I see moisture gather in his eyes. His throat works like he’s having trouble swallowing.
“That’s fine. If that’s what you want, that’s what you’ll get.” Rhett turns away. “Married to your job, you miserable fucker,” he mumbles under his breath as he hobbles off.
The glacier of ice left in his wake chills me to the bone. My words hit their intended target with deadly accuracy, killing two birds with one stone—both his heart and mine.
He’s ignoredme all week long. Well, maybe ignoring is wishful thinking. More like froze me out. Straight up hostile.
In group, he sits with his arms crossed, glaring at me, refusing to share. In the gym, he ignores every suggestion I make, choosing to follow the advice of the other trainers on hand instead. When I pass him in the hallway, he ignores me and looks the other way. My friendly greetings fall on deaf ears, and when I ask him how he’s feeling, or to describe his pain level during his workouts, he stares right through me.
It’s juvenile as fuck, but also… it’s lonely. I wouldn’t have thought Rhett ignoring me could make me feel that way, but that’s exactly what it feels like. Like I’ve lost a good friend, someone important to me. Someone I needed.
I need Rhett?
I don’t know, do I? Do Ineedhim? Fuck, I don’t even want to know the answer to that.
When I enter the gym, the first thing I see are Nash and West occupying side-by-side treadmills, tearing up the black rubber. They’re both pushing themselves way too hard. I jog over to their machines and hit the reset buttons.
“Slow down, knuckleheads. You’re both going to be limping tomorrow.” Jesus, they act like this competition between them has a cash prize or something.