Chapter Four
Shane lay on his back, staring up at the bright blue sky. Everything looked hazy, with a dreamlike quality that made him want to drift off to sleep. Maybe he’d just take a little nap…
Right as he closed his eyes, though, he felt a stinging slap first on one cheek, then the other. A strong arm slid beneath his shoulders, urging him to sit up. He struggled to focus, Matt’s face swimming before him. His mouth was moving but Shane couldn’t make out what he was saying.
Suddenly more guys were there and they pulled Shane to his feet.
He swayed, the ground threatening to rise up and smack him upside the head.
They half dragged, half carried him to the medical tent, where the corpsman directed them all toward a folding chair.
Shane collapsed onto it, and the corpsman knelt to check him over.
The dude sounded like he was underwater when he said to Matt, “Looks like he got his bell rung pretty good. How far did he fall?”
“Shit, maybe fifteen feet?”
Shane’s chin sagged toward his chest as it all came back to him. The O-course, the bane of his fucking existence. He’d been halfway up a thirty-foot rope climb when he lost his grip and plummeted to the sand.
Shane dragged his head up to glare at Matt. “Still gonna beat your fuckin’ time, asshole. This is a minor setback, so don’t get cocky.”
Matt shrugged, brushing off Shane’s words like he would an annoying gnat. Gritting his teeth in frustration, Shane growled, “Aww, fuck you.” Only the way it came out was “fuh-oo” as another wave of weakness swept over him, and this time Matt smirked.
Their eyes met, the usual distance in Matt’s replaced with real worry. A surprising quiver went through Shane at the sight of it.
Whatever.
He broke their gaze and leaned forward to prop his elbows on his knees, head hanging, hoping Matt would think it was a residual reaction to his fall, not because he was hiding.
“I’ll need to observe him for a while,” the corpsman said, “so might as well get comfortable, Soup.”
With no hesitation Matt pulled up a chair and plopped down a few feet away with a tired grunt.
The swim-buddy rule was second nature to all of them by now.
In the two weeks since their own swim-buddy incident, he and Matt had been careful not to stray more than a few arm’s length from each other during training.
“What happened?”
Shane swallowed his gulp of water and glanced up at Salazar, who’d just pushed through the entrance to the tent. “Lost my grip, Instructor.”
“Because you were trying to go too fast and weren’t using proper form.” Salazar’s voice was stern. “We encourage competition here, and it pays to be a winner. But—”
“Safety first,” they said in unison.
Salazar nodded. “It won’t do you any good to beat Soup only to get injured and find yourself out of BUD/S.”
“Hooyah.”
Salazar glanced at the corpsman, who said, “Give him about ten minutes, Instructor.”
“Okay.” Salazar turned to Shane. “Take your ten and then you’d better get your ass back out there, sailor.”
“Hooyah.”
With a nod, Salazar disappeared back outside, and an awkward silence fell as Shane tried to look anywhere but at Matt, who’d kicked back in his chair, hands linked behind his head, legs stretched straight out and crossed at the ankle.
“Comfortable?” Shane couldn’t help but ask, his tone caustic. “Guess you should thank me for busting my ass, huh?”
“Guess I should.”
Was that a hint of amusement in Matt’s voice? Shane huffed to cover his surprise and made a get-on-with-it gesture. “Well?”
Matt made a mocking bow. “Thanks for busting your ass so I can get a break. Happy?”
“Yep.” Shane lifted his arms in a stretch, wincing as a bolt of pain shot through his head. “Because that hurt like a bitch.”
“I bet.”
The silence that fell this time wasn’t quite as awkward, and after a moment Matt cleared his throat. “Hey. I, uh, also want to thank you for the night you offered to help me clean my room. And to apologize for the way I acted. I was really out of line.”
Shane raised his eyebrows. “Wow. An apology two weeks later? Better late than never, I guess.”
Matt’s jaw rippled, but all he said was, “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.”
“Just so you also know, you destroyed a lot of trust when you treated those guys like wayward frat boys who’d pulled off a drunken prank. It’s not just me you should apologize to.”
“Okay, okay, I get it.” Matt’s fists were clenched on his thighs, the knuckles white. “But I’m starting with you. I’ll figure out a way to make it up to the rest of the guys. Somehow.”
Shane studied him. These past two weeks hadn’t been easy on Matt in any way, shape or form.
Some of their classmates wouldn’t speak to him, and the ones who did made it about business only.
On their downtime, when the rest of the guys blew off steam by going to bars or barbecuing in the commons, Matt worked out.
It seemed like whenever Shane saw him, he was either running or in the gym.
The other morning Shane had trotted out of his barracks room to see Salazar staring at Matt’s door. When Shane glanced over, he’d had a devil of a time not gasping in shock. Taped to the door was a piece of paper. Written on the paper were the block letters QUIT NOW. WE DON’T WANT YOU HERE ANYWAY.
Matt had come out of the room just then, and at the sight of the paper, he’d flushed a dark red.
“I didn’t do this,” Salazar said to him quietly, “and I don’t know who did.
But listen to me. Team guys will pounce on any weakness.
They’ll hammer at it until it either destroys you or you overcome it.
This is the culture you want to be a part of, son, so you’d better grow a pretty thick skin and shape the fuck up, or yeah, quit now. ”
Matt had shaken his head. “I’m not gonna fuckin’ quit. Ever.”
“We’ll see about that.” Salazar raised his voice to address everyone. “Go get your asses wet and sandy. Now!”
After training that night, the sign was gone.
Matt had stood in front of his door for a moment, head bowed, then unlocked it and disappeared inside.
Shane could almost feel sorry for him. Almost. But the memory of the unceremonious way Matt had tossed his offer of help back in his face had stiffened his resolve not to care.
He was beyond done giving his friendship to people unwilling or unable to return it.
That didn’t mean he had to be a stubborn dick, though. “Apology accepted.”
When Matt slumped in apparent relief, Shane went on, “Teamwork doesn’t come naturally to you, does it?”
Matt’s mouth tightened, and Shane gave himself a mental kick.
Couldn’t leave well enough alone, huh?
“I’m not trying to be an asshole, I swear. Just answer the question.”
He waited for Matt to tell him to fuck off, but once again, he surprised him. “I’m pretty much used to handling my shit alone,” he said slowly. “It’s better that way, ’cause then when it all goes to hell, I have no one to blame but myself. I know that has to change if I want to be a SEAL.”
Shane gave an approving nod. “See, that wasn’t so hard. Now you’ve said it out loud, and you know what you have to work on. We’re all in this together, Soup.” He slapped his thighs and started to push to his feet. “Ready to head back out?”
“So say yours out loud.”
Shane froze in the middle of standing up, meeting the challenge in Matt’s eyes as he straightened to his full height.
He glanced outside at the O-course, then back at Matt, who was gazing at him steadily.
Fuck, he didn’t appreciate having the tables suddenly turned, but then again, the dude was making an effort and had just put himself out there in a big way. Apologies were never easy.
“Mine? To stop offering my loyalty to people incapable of giving it to me in return. I’ve made that mistake one too many times.”
Now it was Matt who looked away, and with that, Shane headed out of the medical tent, forcing back the residual dizziness, to rejoin the class.
Matt immediately disappeared into the depths of the O-course, his jaw set with determination, his movements sharp and fierce.
At the end of the evolution, he’d be smoked.
Shane sighed. It seemed Matt coped with his emotions by exhausting himself into oblivion, which after all that soul-baring, Shane could get on board with.
Except the supervising instructor wouldn’t let him up on the higher apparatus, restricting him to crawling under barbed wire and working out on the other low-to-ground obstacles.
“Shane Hovland, Human Pancake!” Elias grabbed Shane in a headlock and scrubbed his knuckles over the top of his head before letting go of him with a grin. “That was you, all spread-eagled out in the sand like that.”
“That’s exactly what I felt like, dude. Like Wile E. Coyote when he falls from a cliff and leaves a coyote-shaped hole in the ground.”
Elias guffawed. “That was some funny shit, not gonna lie.”
“Thanks a lot.” Shane threw a mock punch at him and they tussled briefly, which ended in a huge, back-slapping bear hug.
“Don’t scare me like that again,” Elias muttered in his ear. “You took five years off my fuckin’ life.”
“Stop playing grab-ass, ladies, and get back to work,” Salazar barked from his observation tower. “In fact, Hovland looks all dry and comfy now, so how about you two go get wet and sandy. Take Alphabet Soup with you.”
“Hooyah!”
The three of them took off, joined by Elias’s swim buddy, a Black guy named Aaron Maddox.
Of course it turned into a race, all four of them jockeying for first place.
Aaron tripped Matt, who used his forward momentum to somersault right back to his feet without missing a beat.
Matt shoved Elias, who staggered but doggedly kept on going.
Shane usually won their foot races, but his head was throbbing and his lower back hurt, and to his disgust he was last into the water. After getting wet and rolling in the mud, they dashed back to the O-course, Matt winning handily.