Page 52 of Warrior's Walk

West:

He’s not good.

Brandt:

Totally depressed.

Mandy:

We gotta do something or he’ll lie in bed all day. Again.

So that’s where he was yesterday, hiding under the covers. I can’t blame him. His unit came home, and they’re back on base and life goes on without him, a stark reminder that he’s lost everything.

Nash:

Let’s meet up at his place around two. I’ll bring lunch.

I guess I won’t be seeing West or Nash in the gym today, either. It’s better this way, though. Rhett needs them. I’m still not over being pissed about how they set me up. Rhett hasn’t made much of an effort to hide his attraction to me, and I think the guys have finally picked up on it and are trying to push us together because that’s what nosy Bitches do.

I have time for two patients before lunch, and at twelve sharp, I head for the cafeteria. Brewer’s right on time, coming down the hall at the same time as me from the opposite direction.

“Who’s treating today?” he asks. “You or me?”

Smart ass. “I don’t care. I just need the distraction.”

Today they’re serving spaghetti and meatballs, a side salad, garlic bread, and a bowl of minestrone soup. The cafeteria is always packed on spaghetti day, and I wave to Dylan and his dad.

Brewer and I snag our usual table, and as I begin to chew, I can feel the weight of his stare resting on my shoulders. “What?”

“Did I say anything?”

“You didn’t have to. I can hear your thoughts like you’re screaming.”

He continues to shovel forkfuls of spaghetti into his mouth, chewing silently. My agitation mounts until I feel like I have ants crawling beneath my skin.

“Your boyfriend has a big mouth!” I stab my fork in his direction. His smug expression just pisses me off more.

“A long time ago, I learned this handy technique, where all I have to do is sit silently and listen, and a patient will bend overbackward to fill that awkward silence with plenty of information. I don’t even have to ask any questions, really. I just wait for them to find the answer on their own. Self-guided discovery.”

“Is that what you’re doing? You’re shrinking me?”

“Is that what you want me to do?” he asks calmly, his face a mask of serenity.

Losing my patience, I kick his shin under the table, and he laughs.

I know he knows! And he knows I know he knows.

“The Bitches ratted me out.”

He’s still chuckling as he says, “As Bitches will do, but only because they care.”

“Bullshit. It’s revenge, pure and simple. Revenge for all the times I stuck my nose in their business. For all the pain they endured in my gym.”

He twirls strands of spaghetti around the tines of his fork. “And was that because you cared?”

Fuck. There’s no getting around this. “Obviously, whatever I’m doing isn’t working. The situation between us is progressing, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

“Don’t you?”

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