Page 50 of Warrior's Walk

“You know what? I don’t need an apology. An explanation, maybe, but not an apology. You do you, and I’ll do me.” I’ve nearly crushed the paper eagle in my hand, and I loosen my grip and offer it to him. “I’ll see you in the gym. Apparently, I have a lot of work to do and I’m feelingverymotivated.”

I thought Riggs would have adopted a softer attitude toward me after our heart-to-heart the other night, but that shit didn’t last two minutes. He’s back to ignoring me again, giving me the cold shoulder, and after his temper tantrum after group, I really shouldn’t be surprised. It’s ridiculous; he’s working with another guy right beside me, and his eyes haven’t strayed to me once. I can practically feel his icy mood gusting in my direction.

And I look fucking good today. I chose a navy blue sleeveless compression top to show off the progress I’ve made on my arms.

I change out the weights strapped to my ankles for a heavier set and continue my reps, counting out another twenty leg lifts. I stare straight ahead, pretending like I don’t hear Riggs conversing with the guy beside me. He’s pleasant but professional, even making the guy laugh at some of the things he says. It makes my blood pressure boil over.

Has he given that guy the sexual desire motivates recovery speech?

The signs on the walls have been taken down and replaced with the original motivational posters. It looks boring as fuck. Our neon signs were much better.

From the corner of my eye, I spy Riggs putting his hands on the guy, grasping his thigh as he leans over his legs.

“You feel tight. Are you cramping?”

“Yeah,” the man grunts, sounding wiped.

Riggs positions the man’s foot against his chest, still gripping his thigh. “Push against my chest.”

I grit my teeth and grab a heavier set of weights. Sweat drips off my forehead as I bend over to strap them on my ankles.

“That’s good, push harder. Give me all you’ve got,” he jokes, making the man laugh again.

Fuck me for glancing over, but Riggs is massaging the guy’s calf muscle, and all I can see is the color red clouding my vision. Or maybe it’s green.

“How does that feel?” he asks, the sound of his voice way too gruff for my liking.

Adrenaline courses through my blood, giving me the strength to lift my leg higher, to increase the speed of my repetitions until… The pop in my knee is loud enough to be heard by everyone in the immediate area. Several of them look at me to make sure I’m okay. Riggs drops the guy’s leg and plants his feet in front of my bench. He rips the weights off my ankles and throws them to the floor.

“Are you purposely trying to injure yourself?”

“No,” I grit. “Why would I?”

“I don’t know,” he sneers. “Maybe so that later on, when your leg is so inflamed that it locks up on you, you can call me again to help.”

“Seriously?” I’m actually shocked. “Is that what you think I was doing?”

He leans closer so that he can’t be overheard, his voice an angry hiss in my ear. “I get it, soldier. Your dick works and you want to use it. You want me to fuck you. But I told you, it’s not going to happen. Don’t you think that’s why I haven’t given you that speech?” His lips actually brush the shell of my ear, making me shiver. “I’m not going to stop you if you’re hell-bent on getting fucked, but it won’t be by me. But I will stop you from damaging your knee further because, despite what you think, soldier, I do care. I care very much.”

My heart can’t beat any harder without giving out on me. I feel like I can’t catch my breath. Without another word, he returns to his patient beside me, and I continue to sit here, staring at my ankle weights on the floor.

“Marsh,” a deep voice booms, echoing off the gym walls. “Rhett Marsh! Front and center, soldier.” My head snaps up along with many others as four soldiers in full uniform stomp through the doors.

“Holy fuckin’ shit,” I breathe. Warren, Ormen, Villaro, Mandell—my unit came home. They came forme.

I’m on my feet in the blink of an eye, moving as fast as I can one second, and then in the next, my body hits the ground hard, and I’m on my face.

I had to overdo it, didn’t I? Just had to fucking push myself past my limit. And now, my knee is locked up again. Tan boots appear in my line of sight, the only thing I can see as I stare at the floor, and I feel their hands on me, helping me to my feet. “Rhett, you all right? You okay?”

But Riggs’s deep voice supersedes everyone’s. “Don’t touch him. Back up.”

“Hey man,” Warren says. “That’s my brother.”

“No, that’s my patient. Back. The fuck. Up.”

“Riggs,” I plead, picking my head up off the floor.

“On your feet, soldier,” he orders.

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