Page 62 of Warrior's Walk

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Page 62 of Warrior's Walk

The voices in my head become loud, coalescing into a deafening roar. I hear my conscience, or maybe just my insecurities, telling me to back off, to push him away. I also hear Brewer telling me to indulge in moderation, and Retta selling me on her son’s virtues. I hear my body begging me to touch him. I hear his voice, through the filter of pain and tears, the first night I met him, asking me to hold his hand, to never let go.

Like a moth drawn to a flame, I’m begging to get burned.

There’s a spark between us—more like an inferno.

I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t choose him.My heart did.

The harder I fall for him, the more I hate myself for being so gullible and careless, but I feel it. It’s happening. My heart isgetting wrapped up around him. No matter how much I try to fight it, it’s inevitable.

This is going to fucking hurt.

“I think about you more often than I should,” I admit, surprising myself with my daring.

Rhett’s eyes pop wide, and he checks to make sure his mama isn’t listening before he whispers, “I think about you constantly.”

I’ve got to get out of here before I give in and kiss him.Jesus, I’m dying to kiss him.That first taste is going to be unforgettable.

“I’ll see you at BALLS. Don’t forget to grab your bathing suit.”

When I pull into the parking lot at BALLS, I shut the truck off and sit there for a solid ten minutes, staring at my reflection in the rearview mirror. I can’t believe I told him that, and yet, the world didn’t end. I didn’t spontaneously combust, nor did Rhett. It doesn’t mean game on, all in. It just means I won’t continue to lie to myself and him. Giving myself that small freedom feels like the greatest thrill, a rush of adrenaline straight to the heart. I’m actually nervous to see him again, which is fucking ridiculous.

Time to go in and face the music. I can just imagine the smug look on Brewer’s face when I tell him I’ve stopped fighting myself. Or the pranks and catcalls from the Bitches. It’s all in good fun, I guess. I’ve given the guys so much shit, I certainly have it coming.

“Good morning, Riggs,” Margaret Anne greets cheerfully, offering me a steaming cup of coffee in a paper cup.

“Morning, MA. Don’t you look fetching in that pink blouse?”

Of course, she blushes and smiles, which was my goal. “Have a wonderful day.”

As I pass down the hall on my way to the gym, I read the posters taped to the walls. “Show off your BALLS at the Veterans Day celebration in Black Mountain!”

I can’t hide my laugh thinking of Rhett’s reaction to reading the posters. Another ball joke he’ll find absolutely ridiculous.

“Hey, Riggs. You gonna show off your balls?” Jax asks, coming up behind me.

Smirking, I answer, “Only if you show yours first.”

“Shit, I’ll keep them tucked safely away, thank you very much. Actually, I’m riding with the ALR in the parade with Stiles and McCormick. I’ll leave all that ball flashing to you Bitches.”

The American Legion of Riders is a motorcycle club that does a lot for vets in the way of raising money to cover unpaid medical bills, keeping vets’ houses from being foreclosed on, and buying Christmas gifts and school supplies for their kids.

“That’s a shame. No one likes to flash their balls more than McCormick.”

Jax cracks up and continues down the hall and I duck into the gym. West and Nash are training hard on the step climbing machines, trying to outpace each other. They’re both going to complete the Warrior’s Walk this quarter; the only question is, who will come in first place? It’s never been a competition before, just a personal achievement, but leave it to these two nimrods to change the rules.

“I’ll see you both in the pool in an hour,” I remind them, making my way to the back of the gym to check on another patient.

Minutes later, I spy Rhett escorting his mama into the gym. He makes a circuit around the room, showing her the equipment and explaining to her his workout routine.

They stand and watch West and Nash compete with each other. “I’ll never get there,” I overhear him say dejectedly.

“Not with that attitude, you won’t.” He jumps at the sound of my voice and turns to me, a huge grin working its way over his face.

“Hi,” he says in a breathy voice, totally giving himself away. My admission over breakfast turned his brain to mush.

“Did you bring your bathing suit?”

“Yeah, I’ve got it right here in my bag,” he explains, hitching his backpack higher on his shoulder.




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