4. Teddy
Teddy
H eavy guitar rifts play over the speakers while weights clank against each other.
My muscles scream at me as I push the bar up from my chest.
“Come on. Give me one more,” Kyle urges. He’s standing at my head, his arms held out to spot me.
“Fuck you, man,” I grunt. But I do one more rep anyway.
My arms shake, protesting the movement. Kyle stretches out his hands, prepared to grab the bar.
It’s all the motivation I need to get the weight back to its resting spot.
With a clang, the bar hits the metal posts before dropping into the rests.
“Fuck yeah. That’s what I’m talking about,” Kyle cheers.
“Payback’s going to be a bitch.” I curl up from the bench, breathing hard from the exertion. I lift the hem of my T-shirt to wipe the sweat from my brow.
“If you screaming at me gets me to lift what you do, I’ll take it.”
I snort. “You’re an idiot.”
He shrugs before swapping out plates to do his reps. I swipe my water bottle off the floor and stand. The gym on base isn’t too busy today. It makes it easier to complete my circuits without waiting for someone to be done with an apparatus.
These young guys like to show off and push themselves harder than is safe.
They see me lifting weights heavier than theirs and try to turn it into a competition.
Little do they know I lift because I need the outlet.
I’m not doing this to bulk up or be a badass.
Pushing my muscles past the breaking point is about the only thing that gets me to sleep anymore.
I spot Kyle during his turn, pushing him just as hard as he did me. He’s not far off from my bench weight. “You could go up if you wanna go for a PR,” I say when he finishes his set.
“Tomorrow. I’m tapped out.”
I nod and walk over to the treadmill.
“Are you sure you’re not a robot?” Kyle calls out from the doorway. His disgusted look at the treadmill makes me want to laugh.
I roll my eyes instead. The belt begins to move quickly, and I start at a decent jogging pace. This is the hardest part of my workouts but the most important. It’s the only thing that’ll wear me out enough to fall asleep instead of being awake half the night.
All the thoughts spiraling through my head dissipate as I run, and by the end, my body and mind are too exhausted to continue spinning.
There’s a new email from Lottie on my phone I’ve been dying to read since last night.
It came in late, which made me wonder what she was doing.
I thought replying at night would keep me from seeing anything new from her for a while.
Instead, I got a response almost immediately.
It took every bit of willpower I had to keep from opening it.
She’s been an addiction since the first moment I met her.
I can’t understand why she’d still want to email me after all this time.
I don’t give her much when I respond, and God knows I do my best not to do it very often.
I figured she’d have found some schmuck to give her all the things I can’t by now.
She’s a gorgeous woman and has only gotten prettier as she’s gotten older.
I live for the emails when she adds a picture of herself. Usually, she shows me some adventure she went on with her friends. In every picture, she shines brighter than the sun. How she’s still interested in my grumpy ass, I’ll never know.
I’m also too selfish to ask her to stop. One day, when she finds a man who will worship the ground she walks on, she’ll give me up. It’ll probably be the shittiest day of my life, but you’ll never hear me say that to her.
“Kavanagh!”
I yank the emergency stop line, stepping off the treadmill and tensing my muscles to keep my knees from collapsing under me. My legs feel like wet noodles. “Commander Brettfield.” I stand at attention.
“At ease.”
I ignore the sweat sliding down my temple as my stance relaxes.
“We’ve found the target. I need you to gather your team for the brief.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Plane leaves at oh six hundred,” Commander Brettfield says before dismissing us.
Chairs scrape across the floor as my team stands from their tables.
A few of us split off toward the mess hall with silent steps.
This mission is going to be intense. The recon team found our target, but they weren’t able to get a good read on his schedule, which means we’ll have to be on alert and ready at all times.
We could get the order to move in within a week, or it could take a year before an opportunity presents itself.
Once we get our food, we sit at a round table to eat. None of us says anything for a bit. We’re too busy thinking about what’s coming to joke around with each other. Well…most of us.
“Anyone else thinking about how long it’s going to be before we get laid again?” Kyle quips, breaking the tension that has grown exponentially.
Oscar throws a napkin at him. “Shut the fuck up, horndog.”
“Seriously, though.” Kyle grins. “Have you ever gone a whole year without?”
Oscar raises an eyebrow. “I’m married, asshole. Of course, I have.”
“Dude. I never want to get married if she’s going to hold out for a year.”
“I was deployed, you idiot.”
“Ohhhh. Still…” Kyle visibly shudders. “Pass.”
The guys laugh. I won’t tell him how long it’s been since I’ve gotten any action.
I think I was on leave over a year ago now, and looking back, I’m not even sure it was worth it.
What I told Lottie was true. I’m getting tired.
I’m one of the oldest guys here, and I’ve been on the special ops team for a long time now.
I don’t have any desire to move up into a role like our commander, but I’m not sure how much longer I can keep doing this.
Depending on how long this next deployment takes, it might be my last.
We finish dinner and go our separate ways, each of us trying to take advantage of our last night stateside.
When I get back to my room, I finally give in to the urge to read Lottie’s email.
She doesn’t say anything groundbreaking, but the way she talks about her life makes me smile.
She sounds happy. I’ve never experienced the type of happiness Lottie exudes.
The only good thing that has ever happened to me was a recruiter coming to my school.
College was never in my future. Having a better path than barely surviving on low-paying jobs saved my life.
I type out a response, letting her know we’re about to go dark for a while. I always tell her she doesn’t need to email me until I get back, but she does anyway. Seeing those messages when I return gives me a sense of home. As if someone’s been waiting for me while I’ve been gone.
She sends a response a minute later with a new selfie and tells me not to forget about her while I’m gone. Like I could ever do that.
When I open the image, I smile. She’s so fucking beautiful.
Her dark hair hangs over her shoulders, framing her round face.
Those amber eyes make me feel like she’s looking straight through me, and her sparkling smile makes me want to smile back.
It’s ridiculous how much this one image can affect me.
Something comes over me, and I head off base, needing to get this image printed. For some reason, I have this urge to carry her picture around with me. Given that I likely won’t have my phone handy, I want a hard copy to keep in my pocket.
Half an hour later, I’m back in my room, with Lottie’s picture tucked away in my stuff. Now that I’ve done it, I feel like a fucking idiot. It’s not like she’s my girlfriend. We aren’t dating and don’t even have a physical relationship. God knows the guys will give me hell if they find it.
But for some reason, I need her with me on this mission. Maybe it’s because this might be my last one or because I know I won’t be able to read her messages very often. Either way, when we board the plane the next morning, I press my palm to my chest and feel her photo in my pocket.