22. Emma
“One more day until tacos forever,” Lilah sings out while we get ready for our morning workout. “Tacos.” She snaps her fingers like she is reading out slam poetry. “Forever.”
“I don’t even know why you’re so obsessed with them,” I tell her as I put my hair in a braid and then wrap it into a bun on top of my head.
“Food in general,” Lilah corrects me. “I’m obsessed with food in general, and I can’t wait to actually have the good stuff without having to temper myself because I’ll be back here for the week. I wonder if I could get a pizza with tacos on top. Oh, and some sushi on the side.”
After checking to make sure that our room is as perfect as it can be, we leave. Eighteen weeks of hell and I’ve made lifetime friends, partners, and I’ve even met strangers that I will gladly give my life for if the situation calls for it.
I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
When we walk into the gym, we’re some of the first ones there. Cadre Mays, with his back to us, is talking on his phone quietly. When he hears us approach, he hangs up and turns around.
“Holy balls,” Lilah whispers.
The day before, his arm hadn’t been in the bright-pink cast that now covers it.
“Sorry, y’all,” he apologizes with a shake of his head. “Fell down some stairs last night trying to help my neighbor. Don’t worry, though. I’ve called in reinforcements for your last day.” While he speaks, the rest of our instructors come in, all dressed for a workout, and my heart rate picks up a beat. We can’t spend the whole last day working out, can we?
They wouldn’t all be in workout clothes if we were doing something else.
I really don’t want to work out anymore.
The rest of our class files in, and we stand at attention, the same way we’ve done for the last four months.
“You’ve all passed your physical exams,” Cadre Mays announces when he has everyone’s attention and the rest of the cadres stand at his side. “Although, I didn’t expect anything else. You’ve pushed yourselves to the limit. You’ve stood by your classmates. You’ve pulled them with you across the finish line, at some points barely making it to the trash can before you lost your lunch. Yes, I’m looking at you, Hayes. You’ve worked your asses off.” He sighs and scratches his cast, even though we all know it isn’t going to actually relieve any itch that he has.
“I don’t know why they’re making me do the talking. You’re my first graduating class. But here we are.”
The other cadres laugh between them, and it is the first time that everything feels real. Like we aren’t about to be thrown to the wolves with a surprise test or anything like that, and I take a deep breath for the first time since I got to the academy.
The tension in my shoulders relaxes, just enough.
“That doesn’t mean that we don’t get one last day together, though,” he goes on. “We thought it would be fun to see what the cadet with the highest marks could do against one of us. If the cadet wins, you’ll have a free day. Complete with pizza paid for by the other cadres and me. But if the cadet loses, you’ll have an entire day of exhausting physical tasks. A ten-mile run, burpees until every cadet is dead on the ground, rope climbs, the works.”
My classmates start to shift from foot to foot, and an undeniable sense of dread fills the air around us. We’ve seen the cadres spar. We’ve gone up against them in training. And we don’t have grades posted, so there isn’t any clue as to which of the guys will be going up against the cadre.
“You’ve got two minutes as a group to agree to the terms or not.”
Since Cadre Mays’ arm is in a cast, we can eliminate him from the lineup. As my classmates start to whisper among themselves, I study the instructors.
Other than Mays, there are four men who’ve all served within the Maine law enforcement field for years. Cadre Reed is our range instructor and a self-professed geek. He told us on day one that he’d rather sit behind a rifle than engage in hand-to-hand combat, but that a weapon is only as good as the man, or woman, using it. As the seconds tick by, I cross him off the list of possibilities.
Cadre Turner is our IT instructor. Cadre Jenkins teaches policies and procedures, and Cadre Hall is actually a dispatcher who doesn’t know anything about sparring.
While the rest of the cadets are bickering and trying to decide if it is worth it, I step forward into the group and clear my throat as loudly as I can.
They shut up really quick, mostly because I haven’t drawn attention to myself the entire time we’re there, so the fact that I’ve done it now is a reason to pause. Chalk that up to one thing I learned from Dom.
“I think we should take the bet,” I tell them quietly.
“Good choice, Hayes,” Cadre Mays announces. “Time’s up.”
We step back into our places, attention focused on the front of the gym. Even as the door opens behind us, I don’t tear my eyes off our instructors.
“It’s fitting that you were the one to convince your fellow cadets to take the challenge,” Cadre Mays says with a smile. “Since you scored higher than anyone else in your class by a clear margin.”
My heart drops into my stomach, and I want to melt into the floor.
“Admittedly, your times on the track were terrible, Hayes.” I stare straight ahead, and I take the criticism as best I can. “But you beat the previous record on the range.” He counts on his fingers. “Your hand-to-hand skills are top-notch, and you scored in the top three for the policies and procedures.” He lifts the cast arm as well as he can and scratches his nose with the injured hand. “I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree in your family.”
“Yes, sir.” I don’t know what else to say, but I know I have to say something. “Thank you, sir.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” he goes on. “You still have to win. Otherwise, I’m sure the other cadets will take issue with it. Not to mention the fact that I know you hate exercise.”
Everyone snickers at that, because I’ve been dead honest about it. Plus, I’m sure someone’s heard me cursing life and existence in general when we’ve been in the gym.
He’s still trying to scratch an invisible itch, but now it’s the back of his neck. “Let’s get this done. I’m tired already, and the day hasn’t even started.”
Cadre Mays waves me forward, and I hesitate. “Sir. I’m not going to spar with you. You’re injured and I really don’t want to get kicked out on the last day for hurting you.”
He looks down at his hand, up at me, and then laughs. “I never said you were sparring with me. I thought I told you I called in reinforcements.” He nods toward the doors, and like a bad horror movie, I turn to see who he means.
Dominic Ortiz stands there in a pair of gray sweatpants and a dark-green shirt emblazoned with USMC in yellow letters, staring straight at me like no one else exists in the world.
His skin is darker, his beard longer, and he looks older than he had the last time I saw him.
But he’s alive, so there’s that.
I want to walk out. To leave and give up on everything I’ve worked for. But my feet won’t move. Even as I scream internally, my mouth forms no words. My arms and legs won’t work. I’m frozen to the spot, and I can’t even blink.
“Come on in, Dominic.”
Small murmurs from the other cadets don’t distract me from watching his every step, but I hear what they say.
“That’s Dominic Ortiz,” Lilah whispers to another of our classmates. “He’s the one whose record Emma broke on the range. He’s a legend.”
“He’s like three of her. There’s no way Emma’s going to win.”
Dom is in the front of the room now, his eyes still locked on mine, and he completely ignores everyone else. But he’s always had a tendency to make me think that I’m the only one who exists. My heart thuds painfully in my chest, but I still can’t force myself to move. I can’t do anything except watch him and try not to burst into tears.
I knew he was alive because he sent letters.
One day, I promise myself I’ll work up the courage to open them. But I can’t stand him being here, in my world, during the last day of my time at the academy. I worked so hard for this and now he’s right here, threatening to ruin it.
Yeah, I’m acting like a petulant child, but he fucking lied to me.
“Emma.” He closes the distance between us and raises a hand to my cheek. I step out of his reach at the last second, surprising both of us.
I didn’t even think I could move, but apparently my fight-or-flight response kicked in.
His hand falters, and he looks down at it like he didn’t realize that he is trying to touch me.
“You know Dom,” Cadre Mays says with a smile. “He’s your opponent. If you beat him, your class is done.”
I stare at Dom’s hand, refusing to meet his eyes. Refusing to let him see that even after months, he still owns my heart. That he always has.
“Don’t kill him, though,” Cadre Reed speaks up, the first of the other instructors to offer anything. “He’s a volunteer and he had to sign a waiver to do this.”
I turn my attention to him and smile ferociously. “No promises.”
Before Dom or any of the other instructors can say a word, I turn to Lilah, deciding it is time to play dirty.
“Remember every night you heard me cry in the shower and pretended not to?”
Lilah nods silently, her eyes wide. We’ve never spoken about those nights. She’s never brought it up, and she’s never once made me feel like I didn’t belong. She’s kept my secret for four months, and I just decide to announce it to all of our classmates and the instructors.
“He’s the reason.”
Every single person I’ve spent the last four months with, practicing with, learning with, stands a little bit taller. Competition between us has turned us into friends and even into family. And the men and women who I know will have my back on the streets or in any fight, as a group, turn a hard eye to the man who stands behind me.
“I got this,” I tell them simply.
“Yeah,” Lilah nods. “You really do.”
Steeling my nerves, I take a deep breath and slowly turn back around to face Dom.
I don’t wait for any announcement that we’ve started. I don’t wait for him to prepare. I don’t even wait to put on any type of protective gear.
He wants to spar.
He wants to be the one to step up and show up at the academy on the last day of my training.
He wants to do everything he can to be seen.
Ignoring his calls, ignoring the pain that he caused, ignoring the family that I’ve come to love like my own because of the hurt he caused… all of it boils into this one moment.
Right here.
And I’m so fucking angry.
As I strike out, punching him in the soft space right below his ribs, I put every single ounce of rage into my move.
He’s faster than I am. Bigger. And he won’t take it easy on me the way Eddie had.
My brothers said I fight with rage.
Everyone says that it’s anger that I use when I step into a ring when them, but it’s not.
I’ve never moved into a fight with someone without clear focus. Focus on what needs to happen, on what every muscle in my body needs to do in order to win.
And Dom?
Dom knows my body. He knows the way I move, the way I can maneuver in a fight. After all, isn’t sex just a battle of the wills if it is done right? He’s definitely done it right, too.
He steps to the side, using his size to his advantage, and when he kicks out, sweeping my legs out from under me, there isn’t anything I can do. I go down, twisting as I fall so that I don’t have the breath knocked out of me.
He’s already done better than any of the sparring partners I’ve had at the academy.
Two can play his game, and I know I’ll come out on top.
The seconds tick by as we analyze each other for any sign of weakness.
Dom may not take it easy on me, but I have four months of rage to work out. He’s just been stupid enough to volunteer for every single hit that I throw. That I’m capable of throwing.
We go back and forth, trading hits, for at least three minutes before he gains the upper hand. My head hits the mat and he straddles my waist, pushing down.
Dom grabs me by the back of the neck, pulling me toward him even though I’m flat on my back. His body pins mine to the mat, but I have my forearm pressed against his throat when he leans forward.
“Are you done yet?” His eyes flash and they dart down to my lips and back to my face.
He might not be taking it easy on me, but there’s no denying that he still wants me.
Good.
I’m not the one who screwed everything up. He is.
We’re both panting and out of breath, but I don’t move my arm away from his neck. Sweat pours down my face and stings my eyes, but I don’t dare blink or try to swipe it away.
“No.” I gasp against the pain. “I’m not.”
When he lowers his forehead to mine, I do the only thing I want to in that moment.
I kiss him, ignoring the way my body reacts to his.
And when he lets his guard down, when he melts into me, pressing his body against mine in a completely different way, I punch him in the gut and roll out from under him, taking the well-earned victory.
“Now I’m done.”