Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
REED
“ I know, baby, I’m sorry. I wish I could get out of it.” McCafferty paces in a figure eight, cooing into his phone. “Aw, come on. You know I hate being apart too. It’ll go by fast. I’ll see you in a couple of weeks.”
When Jack assigned the quarterback of the football team to train me, I thought we’d hit the ground running. Instead, I’ve been sitting on a cement ledge behind the barracks, waiting for him to finish his conversation. It’s giving me too much time to stew about the fact that it wasn’t my talent that got me this job but my father’s connections.
There’s a brief pause before he adds, “Love you, too, baby,” and I nearly vomit onto my boots before his call finally disconnects. Maybe it’s the ninety-degree heat before noon. More likely, it’s that I came here to get away from the opposite gender—never mind Hailey showing up—not follow around some lovesick puppy all day.
I jump off the wall. “Ball and chain troubles?”
He glares at me, but I don’t take it personally.
“None of your business,” he snaps. “I’m your squad leader, not your roommate. ”
A smirk slithers across my face. I guess nobody told him that part.
He braces a stopwatch in front of his face and punches a couple of buttons on the side. “Standard PT test. Twenty-five push-ups. One minute. Go.”
We just met and already I hate answering to him. For starters, he doesn’t look any older than me. And who tied a leadership title to someone with such a shitty attitude?
I’m your squad leader not your roommate .
Real motivating.
He’s reporting all of this back to Jack, and if there is one person I need to impress here, it’s him. So, I drop to the cement pad and pump out fifty push-ups before the timer goes off.
If he’s impressed, he doesn’t make a show of it. Just jots down my number on his palm-sized pad of lined paper and moves on.
He presses the same button on his device a few more times and barks, “Forty sit-ups. One minute. Go.”
Instead of the fancy gym on the west end of the building, we’re using a makeshift basketball court out back, where the cement feels like it dried before it got smoothed over. Every time I lift my back off the ground, my shirt catches on the jagged texture and chafes against my skin. It’s a grueling sixty seconds, but by the time the stopwatch sounds, I’ve got him recording fifty-eight sit-ups on my behalf. Which is a far cry past forty.
He scribbles down my number and walks away—my ever-constant signal to follow him. Add poor communication to the list of things this guy is lacking.
He points to the back of the building where a pull-up bar has been installed.
“Chin-ups ’til failure.”
I grip the metal with my fists and work up and down the wall.
Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two , I count as the timer sounds.
I jump down and wipe my palms together.
He turns to the side, revealing a two-inch scar splitting his eyebrow. I’d ask him about it if he had any interest in becoming friends. But considering he’s sighing and looking bored out of his skull at my presence, I think I’d rather badger him instead.
“You can hold your applause.”
“Is it praise you want, rookie? Well, not bad. But let’s see if those boots were made for walking as much as that mouth of yours was made for yapping.”
He approaches a wall lined with black canvas sacks. Lifts the closest one with ease and dumps it in my arms. They bow under the forty-five-pound weight, but I thread them through the padded straps until the ruck distributes evenly across my upper back. I wait for him to do the same, but he doesn’t.
“Too heavy for you?”
Like a red-tailed hawk over an exposed field, his eyes narrow. “Excuse me?”
“No, it’s just, you’re the squad leader right? Aren’t guys in your position supposed to motivate pawns like me.”
“I didn’t know you needed a hand hold,” he mocks.
“I mean, if you’re offering…” I reach out like I’m going to grab his hand, and it does exactly what I was hoping it would.
His cheeks flush and he swats it away. “We’re going three miles round trip down that trail. You have forty-five minutes.”
I can’t hold back a chuckle.
“Oh, we are?”
“Yes, we are.”
It’s getting annoying that he feels the need to state my target goals like I haven’t already passed all of them before this. What’s supposed to make me believe it’s something he can do? This guy isn’t even carrying a weighted rucksack .
Regardless, I do what I’m told. More than I’m told, in fact. The first two miles I complete at a jog, making it to the halfway spot on the trail and turning back around. I came here to impress. To stand out. Not to be mediocre.
“You’re gonna burn out,” he warns me from behind.
His comment only fuels me, pushes me harder. I ignore the rubbing of my heels and the heavy clunk of my boots. I’m determined to make him regret underestimating me. He hasn’t seen anything yet.
I flip myself around, running backward. “Going too fast for you, soldier?”
He’s only a few feet behind me now, keeping an even pace. I hadn’t realized how slow I must be with the rucksack on.
“Suit yourself,” he says, and I flip back around and ignore his presence. I continue on until we hit the two-and-a-half-mile mark and my boots become unbearable. I’ve committed to pushing forward, and I won’t give this guy any ammunition. Especially knowing he might take it back to Jack. I don’t need either one of them proving my father right, so I keep pushing.
When we hit the three-mile marker, I wheeze.
“Take me out of my misery, Mother Nature,” I whisper to my weight-bearing-support-partner-of-a-tree as McCafferty scribbles my time for the hike. He marches to the same wall we started at and retrieves a second rucksack. Forget about the bulk that tips me forward as he threads it onto my front, it’s my feet that break me.
“Time for long and heavy,” he says.
A layer of sweat clings to my skin, the heat curdling my bloodstream. My definition of prime shape was off. I’m not even out on the fire yet and it feels like my clothes are melting into a second layer of skin. I wipe at the sweat that rolls down my forehead with the back of my hand .
“Get used to it. It’s ten times worse next to the flames,” he says.
I allow my posture to sag for a second, but it does nothing to relieve the deep ache setting in.
“What’s wrong? Getting tired?” he mocks.
I am. But that’s not even the worst part. It’s these damn boots. For the top recommended and most expensive pair on the market, they’re failing me. Four hours ago, they wore marble-sized blisters on the backs of both of my heels and on the edges of my pinky toes. Every time I move, my feet shift, stretching and tugging at the loose skin. I’m one move away from breaking them open.
I refuse to look weak next to McCafferty, but I’m going to need some serious bandages if I plan on being able to walk tomorrow.
“Nope,” I lie. “You just looked like you could use a break.”
Compared to the grueling gymnastics he’s put me through, that’s all today has been for this guy, a break. He sat on his ass while I showed him how to deploy a fire shelter. The only time he’s lifted a finger was to hold the opposite side of the litter as I demonstrated hauling an injured crew member off the mountain. It’s a good thing I paid attention to those fire course training videos; I’ve learned nothing from him.
His hands are on his hips and I know he can sense my irritation. “Do you know what today was?”
“Your don’t give a shit day?” It’s the blisters talking at this point.
“Funny,” he scoffs. “It’s been in the nineties most days this summer. That’s pretty miserable for the mountains. The crew just got off a fourteen-day roll with a seven-day extension. Twenty-one days,” he repeats, as if I couldn’t total them myself. “I was supposed to be at an air-conditioned movie theater eating Junior Mints with my girlfriend. Instead, I’m here with you. ”
“Hey, man, nothing’s keeping you here.” I raise my arms in the air. “I’d be happy to take your spot if you want to waste your time on a girl who will probably cheat on you while you’re away all summer.”
The moment it comes out of my mouth, I wish I could take it back. I’m projecting. While Teddy never cheated, I’m jealous he has someone in his life who chose him. Who wants to spend her time with only him.
He stands and closes in until he’s inches from me.
“If you ever talk about Madison like that again, my fist will be meeting your face. We’re done for today.” He stomps away.
I didn’t come here to make friends.
But I certainly didn’t plan on making enemies either.