Page 16 of Bewitched

CHAPTER SIX

Wednesday, March 1

Coronado, California

The sun beat down on Naval Amphibious Base Coronado as waves of shimmering heat rolled over the Grinder. Blake observed the group of men as they pounded out their seven hundredth flutter kick and felt a stream of jealousy course through his veins. These kids had no idea how lucky they were to be at the beginning of their careers and not the end. The small number that secured Hell Week were in for the ride of their lives.

Lifting the hose, he doused the group closest to him and shouted an encouragement that was heavily cloaked in obscenities. That’s what BUD/S instructors did—tried to get rid of anyone who wasn’t absolutely meant to be there. The Teams had interest in only the best of the best, which he’d been before the last op. God damn ISIS and the terrorist that got a lucky shot.

The brace on his shoulder was a constant reminder that he had a long way to go before he would be fit to return to duty. If ever. The bullet that could change his career finally happened.

None of the doctors would give him a clear answer and kept repeating the phrase that he’d come to hate: wait and see. Being on the Teams was his whole life, and if he wasn’t a SEAL, then he didn’t know what he was. And, truth be told, he had no interest in finding out.

Looking across the yard, he saw Mark signal and shut off the hose. He checked his watch and saw that it was time for lunch. That was one thing they didn’t fool around with here in Coronado. Men had to eat and if they didn’t, they could be pulled. It was one thing to drop on request because you couldn’t take it anymore. It was quite another to be kicked out because you didn’t put enough fuel in your body.

Mark blew his whistle, calling a halt to this latest round of PT, and told everyone to get into the cafeteria and eat. After Blake was done coiling the hose, he walked over to his friend and slapped him on the back. “How many have rung out?”

“About fifty percent of the class,” Mark responded. “We have two more weeks before the real fun begins, so I expect the numbers to be right on when we hit Hell Week.”

Blake studied his buddy and shook his head. “I never would’ve guessed that you would end up in charge of Phase One. I figured you do it for six months and then join SAI.”

“I knew after the first couple of months that I would stay if they’d have me. Turns out, I love this shit, and finding the right tadpoles is more satisfying than I ever would’ve guessed.” Shrugging, he let out a laugh. “Plus, I get to go home to my family every night and sleep next to my beautiful wife. Can’t ask for more than that.”

“Speaking of your beautiful wife…has she delivered any cookies yet?”

Mark turned toward his office and snorted. “No cookies this week. She’s taken on a big project for Max. One of his clients has an accounting mess, and he asked Birdie to see what she could do.”

Blake followed Mark down the corridor. “Want to grab some lunch?”

“Sure. I have a stack of forms to fill out, and I’d like to put it off for as long as I can. Are you coming back this afternoon for the O-course?”

“I’ll try. Depends on how long my appointment takes at the medical center. I have an evaluation today, and I’m hoping for good news.”

Mark walked into his office and grabbed his phone and keys. “I hope you get it, man. Shoulders are a bitch because you can’t do much other than wait. If you get some news you don’t like, give me a call. I’ve been where you are, and it’s not a lot of fun.” Shutting off his computer, he studied Blake. “The only thing that saved me when I got the news was that I was marrying Birdie. I had a new life in front of me that allowed me to let go of the old one. Not sure what I would’ve done if I didn’t have her at my side.”

Blake gazed at Mark’s desk and saw the picture that sat next to his computer. It was a photo from their wedding, and the way they looked at one another would make any man want to stay home. He had nothing close, so if he wasn’t cleared, then he was facing retirement on his own.

An unbidden image floated up, and he saw Paige’s face. They had spent less than twenty-four hours together, but somehow, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. There was no way to know where she’d ended up. For all he knew, she’d stayed in diplomatic service and was stationed somewhere on the other side of the world. Not conducive to dating.

***

Blake and Mark sat in Leroy’s Kitchen and waited for their food. “How many men have made it to Phase Two this year?” Blake inquired.

Rubbing his face, Mark stared at the table. “Let’s see…this is the third class that I’ve had, and we’ve sent around one hundred sixty men to the next phase. There may be forty men who make it through this class—we’ll see who ends up having the heart on the first day of Hell Week.”

The waitress approached with their meals, and Blake thanked her after she set their plates down. “I envied those kids this morning. They have no idea how lucky they are to be at the beginning of this journey.” Lifting his sandwich, he took a big bite and narrowed his eyes when Mark started laughing.

“You need to expand your horizons, my friend,” Mark stated firmly. “You’re thirty-three years old and you’re acting like this shoulder injury is the end for you.” Mark lifted his fork and pointed at him. “You need a hobby or something.”

Blake set down his sandwich, then wiped his mouth. “Fuck you. You didn’t have any hobbies before you met Birdie.”

“You’re right. Maybe it’s time you found yourself a nice girl to date. It might improve your attitude, which will speed up your recovery. Everyone knows a happy patient is a healthy patient.”

“Who told you that?” Blake huffed.

“Birdie. When I came home from the hospital, she made sure that I was happy, and I know it helped.”

He noticed the self-satisfied smile Mark was wearing and had an urge to wipe it off his face. The last thing he needed to hear was how happy Mark was. It was damn annoying. Blake picked up his sandwich again and ate. As far as he could tell, his capacity for happiness had been wiped out on the op in Daraa. It was as bloody and brutal as he’d ever experienced, and there was probably some part of him that was still out in the Syrian desert.

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