Chapter Fourteen
“Hey, Soup! Join us!”
At the sound of Aaron’s voice, Matt glanced toward the large patch of grass that made up part of the commons.
A bunch of guys were facing off in a football scrimmage, the teams apparently divided into the classic “shirts” and “skins.” He was about to refuse when he caught a glimpse of Shane staring at him from the “skins” side, his hands propped on his hips, athletic shorts riding low enough to expose the waistband of his underwear.
Matt’s throat dried up at the sight. Shit. He trotted toward the group, Shane’s stormy eyes following him every step of the way.
“Sure, I’ll play,” he croaked. “Where do you need me?”
After quick team huddles, they gathered at the line of scrimmage. Matt went into a crouch, one hand on the ground, inches away from Shane on the opposite side.
“Hike!”
The minute the quarterback’s hands touched the ball, Shane lowered his shoulder and drove it hard into Matt’s chest, sending him sprawling.
“You dick,” he muttered before sprinting away.
On the next play the same thing happened, only Matt was ready. When Shane flattened him, Matt gasped out, “I’m sorry about the other night. I’ve felt like shit all week.”
The look of dislike Shane flicked him should’ve buried him underneath the dirt, but all it did was send heat surging through Matt’s veins.
Oh, I’m gonna make you talk to me, motherfucker.
He leapt to his feet just in time to see Shane jump into the air to receive the pass before taking off for the end zone.
Matt went after him and launched himself at the backs of Shane’s knees, ramming into him with the force of a pile driver.
With a pained grunt, Shane hit the ground hard, the football tucked under his arm jarring loose.
It bounced away on impact and triggered a free-for-all.
Matt rolled to the side to avoid being trampled, instinctively curling into a fetal position with his arms over his head.
A few feet away Shane pushed to standing, his bare chest and stomach streaked with dirt and sweat, blood now dripping from his chin.
He probed at his newly split lip with his tongue, his face tight with fury.
“Lemme explain.” Matt got to his feet, grunting as Shane bumped him hard with his chest, sending Matt staggering back a step.
Shane loomed over him. “Fuck. You.”
They stared into each other’s eyes, the blue of Shane’s almost black with anger and, yes, tinged with hurt.
Matt winced. Leaving him the other night without a word had been a real dick move, and renewed shame slithered through him.
Shane had selflessly helped him through his disappointment over the dive practical and how had Matt repaid him? By abandoning him.
All week Shane hadn’t returned his texts or calls. Matt didn’t blame him.
“Shane—”
“Save it.” Shane turned his back and jogged toward the line of scrimmage. For the next several plays, Matt let Shane hammer him.
“I’m sorry,” he said each time.
“Fuck you” was the response.
“Is that all you can say to me?” Matt demanded at one point, yelping when instead of answering Shane stepped deliberately on his chest as he headed back into the fray.
Furious, Matt got to his feet just as Shane went up for an interception, his body extended beautifully for the catch.
He barreled toward the end zone, ball tucked in close to his side.
Matt charged after him, but Shane was like the wind, easily making the touchdown before holding the ball over his head and going into some idiotic dance.
Unable to check his forward momentum, Matt was about to crash into him when Shane twisted to the side and stuck his foot out.
Matt tripped over it at full speed and went flying.
As he lay there, wind knocked out of him, struggling for air, he became dimly aware of Shane hovering over him wearing a smirk.
“Whoops. Guess I spilled the Soup. Again.”
It was better than fuck you but not by much. Matt snarled at him. “I said I’m sorry, asshole. Whaddya want from me?”
Shane turned his back and walked away as Matt’s laughing teammates rushed toward him and pulled him to his feet, putting his arms over their shoulders and helping him over to the picnic tables.
Wives and girlfriends were starting to show up, food and kids in tow, the whole thing turning into some impromptu barbecue.
Smiling politely through the introductions, Matt edged away as soon as he could. Shane apparently wasn’t gonna talk to him, so screw this. He wasn’t much into the family thing anyway, and the beer was starting to flow.
He wiped his sweaty face on his T-shirt, made sure his ID was in his shorts pocket, and trotted toward the main gate of the base, intending to lose himself on a long, punishing run. As he headed down the path in the gathering darkness, he became aware of footsteps a short distance behind him.
Oh, shit.
Matt’s nipples tightened and every hair on his body stood on end. He quickened his pace, adrenaline starting to pump. One mile, then two, then three. The footsteps stayed behind him, even when Matt veered off the path and darted across the road toward the beach.
His calves burned as the soft sand slowed him down. The crunching footsteps were right on his heels, and Matt whirled to confront his follower, a pained “oof” exploding from him as a sweaty brick wall rammed into him, sending him flying.
That wall came down on top of him and pinned his wrists next to his head.
“I fucking waited in bed for you for fucking half an hour before I realized you were gone,” Shane snarled. “You didn’t even have the decency to come in and say goodbye, so yeah, fuck you, you prick.”
“I am a prick,” Matt agreed, letting himself go limp in Shane’s hold. “Hit me. I deserve it.”
They stared at each other until Shane released him with a huff of disgust. “Nah. Not worth it.”
He sat back, and Matt exploded into action, bucking Shane off him.
With a shout, Shane recovered in an instant and pounced.
They rolled over and over in the sand, grappling, fists flying.
Seeing an opening, Matt scissored his legs around Shane’s waist and flipped him to his back before coming down flush over top of him.
“I’m sorry. Please…” His words failing him, Matt captured Shane’s mouth with his.
Immediately Shane wrenched away. “You’re sorry, huh? You think just saying that makes it better?”
“Then tell me what to say.” Matt smoothed his thumbs over Shane’s cheeks. “And I’ll say it. Tell me how to fix this.”
“Fix it? You think words will fix anything? A few one-sentence texts?” Shane coiled as if to shove Matt away, but Matt rolled off him before he could. He got to his knees, his hands resting on his thighs as he searched Shane’s face desperately for answers.
Action, not words. You should’ve gone to see him, and you know it.
Shane sat up, too, a remoteness now in his eyes that made Matt’s stomach clench with both fear and regret. He’d bungled this so badly…
Reaching out, Matt laid his palm over Shane’s chest. “I suck. What I did that night was all about me, Shane. It had nothing to do with you.”
Shane’s lips twisted at the “It’s not you, it’s me” line, but at least some of the tension went out of his body.
Matt gulped and went on, “I should’ve come to see you and apologize, but I fucked that up, too.” He let his hand drop away. “I fucked all of it up and I just… All I can say is I’m sorry.”
He gasped as Shane grabbed the front of his T-shirt and hauled him close.
“You walked out on me,” he growled, his lips so close to Matt’s he could feel his breath.
“You don’t want to be there with me, just say it.
You change your mind about something, say that, too.
But don’t ever just walk out on me without a word again. ”
“I won’t. I’m so—”
Shane stopped the words with his mouth. Wrapping his arms around his neck, Matt poured every ounce of himself into the kiss, letting Shane feel his remorse.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered against his lips. “Please give me another chance to be a better friend.”
For one awful moment Shane didn’t respond, but then his mouth softened and he nipped at Matt’s lower lip. “I’m gonna go.”
He rolled smoothly to his feet. Matt’s stomach dropped as he started to walk away, but after a few steps, he turned back.
“Night, Soup.”
Matt slumped in cautious relief. “Night, clown. See ya?”
With one almost regal nod, Shane disappeared over the berm.
* * *
Matt perched on the edge of the dive boat next to Trey, both of them jocked up in wet suits with pure oxygen rebreathers on their chests. The diving supervisor went over the mission brief again before giving them the “go” sign.
As Matt slipped underneath the surface of the bay, fear surged through him in a sickening wave. He gripped his plexiglass attack board tightly, focusing in on the compass and depth gauge mounted to it.
A thousand yards east, then make a dogleg to the south for two hundred yards, thread between the docking piers…
With a nod toward Trey, Matt dove to a depth of fifteen feet and started swimming east, Trey staying a little above and behind him. Darkness yawed around them in every direction, pitch black below, a lighter gray above.
Fuck your cowardice, it’s just water.
Dark water. Cold water. The thought of adding several tons of steel hull over his head, no escape from the blackness if something went wrong…
Matt fought to control his breathing. It was daunting, confronting an unexpected fear like this when his entire career rode on being able to overcome it. Fail this diving practical again, and he was out.
“Everyone’s afraid of something, right?”
Shane’s voice echoed in his head, along with his advice.
With Matt’s fear threatening to choke him, he grasped on to it like a lifeline.
What was his three-foot world? No question.
It was the attack board he held with the instruments mounted on it, and his swim buddy, tethered to him reassuringly by a dive line.
Pushing away thoughts of the watery gloom around him, Matt focused on his compass, emptying his mind of everything but the navigation he was tasked with and his kick counts. He glanced over his shoulder at Trey, who shot him a quick thumbs-up.
Stay in your three-foot world. You can do this.
He gritted his teeth and swam on.
When Matt and Trey eventually hauled themselves up into the rubber boat at the extraction point, they stripped off their masks and waited anxiously while the dive supe glanced at his stopwatch.
“Good work. Well under the time limit, gentlemen.”
“Fuck, yeah!” Matt gave Trey an exuberant high-five.
It wasn’t long until all the swim pairs had returned from their “mission” and the small flotilla of boats headed for shore. A stop at the dive locker to stow their gear, then into the classroom for a debrief. To Matt’s satisfaction, he and Trey had scored higher than anyone else.
After they were finally dismissed, Matt was exhausted, yet riding an adrenaline high. He headed toward his barracks room to change clothes, intending to go treat himself to a huge breakfast somewhere before the training day started in a few hours.
Sleep? Who needs sleep?
As he climbed the stairs toward his room, his heart leapt when he caught sight of Shane sitting on the top step.
“Hey,” he said, plopping down next to him when he shifted to the side to make room. “What’re you doing here?”
“Waiting for you. How’d your dive practical go?” Shane nudged Matt’s knee with his. “I heard through the grapevine that tonight was the retake.”
“Passed it. Best time in the group.” Matt grinned at him, and Shane’s eyes dropped to his lips briefly before he cleared his throat and scooted away, leaving a couple of careful inches between them.
“Good” was all he said.
After a moment of silence, Matt said, “So does this welcome reception mean I’m forgiven at last?”
Shane didn’t reply, so Matt elbowed him in the ribs. “Does it?”
“Maybe,” Shane said grudgingly, although the tiniest of smiles played about the corners of his mouth. “If you’ll go to the Padres game with me this Friday night.”
“Padres? What?”
“Baseball game? You know, the San Diego Padres?” Shane sounded so disgusted that Matt got pissed.
“I know who the fucking Padres are, but why are you asking me to a game? Who cares about baseball right now? I don’t.”
“I don’t either, but my sister is bugging the hell out of me.”
Matt listened as Shane told him about Alexis’s request for him to spend some time with her boyfriend, Derek.
“I need to get it over with, and I figure with you there maybe it won’t be so damn awkward,” Shane muttered. “Besides, you owe me.”
He stared into Matt’s eyes defiantly, and Matt nodded. “Yeah. I do.”
Shane blinked in surprise at Matt’s admission. “Well, shit.” He paused, then rushed on, “What was that all about anyway, you leaving like that?”
Matt wanted to tell him, but this wasn’t the time or place. Guys were straggling back from various night evolutions, doors were opening and closing all around them. Thinking about his mistakes always made Matt tense…
“Not now, okay?” he said softly. “But I’d love to go to the baseball game with you.”
Shane’s face grew remote at the nonanswer. He got to his feet. “It’s not a date,” he informed him, his voice stiff. “It’s a favor. Meet me in the parking lot Friday after we’re dismissed.”
“Okay.”
With a curt nod, Shane strode off toward his room, and Matt sighed. Maybe he should’ve just told him instead of being so evasive. Now Shane seemed to think he wasn’t worth an explanation.
Sudden exhaustion swamped him, and he glanced at his watch. If he went to bed now, he’d get two-and-a-half hours of sleep. It’d have to be enough.
As he passed by Shane’s room on the way to his own, he paused. No, it wasn’t a fucking date. That would be stupid.
So why couldn’t he keep from wishing it were?