Nemo
Nemo was working Scheherazade through commands in the training center when he felt TB’s presence. It was hard to believe TB was capable of making his six-foot-seven, two-hundred-forty-pound frame near invisible when he wanted to. Nemo realized the man was trying not to sneak up on his teammate by leaning against the doorframe, hands in pockets. Nemo appreciated the consideration, even if it was for the dog and not for him. Scheherazade was new to training. It took very little to distract her in these early days.
Not that he wasn’t distracted himself. Just knowing Haskell was upstairs in his apartment? This training session was more for him than Scheherazade. If he hadn’t left the apartment, he’d be so deep in her right now that they wouldn’t come up for air for days. Somehow, he didn’t think Waters would appreciate that.
Twenty minutes later, he commanded “Vryheid!” and reinforced the command by placing his hand, palm up, down at his side. Scheherazade yipped with excitement and ran to the far corner of the gym area to grab a ball. This would be perfect. He could throw the ball for Zade, focus on her, but still answer the questions that were about to come from his teammate without having to pay attention to the man himself.
By the time Scheherazade was dropping the ball at Nemo’s feet, TB had made his way over to Nemo’s side. Nemo reached down for the ball, picked it up, and chucked it hard at the far corner, knowing that when it hit, the caroms the ball would take off the corners and equipment would keep the dog entertained.
“She’s looking good,” TB acknowledged. “You’re doing great with her.”
“Thanks. It’s early days, but she’ll get there.”
There was silence as they watched her hunt under the free weights the ball had rolled underneath.
“Listen,” TB began, “I never truly said thank you for everything. You know. With Flame. I?—”
“No thanks are needed, TB. She’s tribe.”
“But still?—”
“TB. Really. It’s unnecessary. Love that girl like a sister who writes porn.” He grinned mischievously while TB just shook his head and rolled his eyes.
“It’s not porn. It’s historical paranormal romantic suspense.”
“That’s a mouthful. Fifty bucks says you can’t say that five times fast.”
“Fuck off,” TB grouched.
“Porn is easier to say.”
“Fuck. Off. You call it porn to her, and she’ll give you a million paper cuts and pour ginger into the wounds.”
“Nice. You taught her well.”
TB’s face went solid. “Damn straight. No asshole is ever going to take advantage of her again, that’s for sure.”
Scheherazade was back, ball in mouth, which she dropped at TB’s feet, then sat in front of him expectantly.
TB picked up the ball and chucked it into a different corner, this one near the lockers that lined the wall. “Still. I should have said thanks officially. Especially given our contentious relationship.”
“Contentious?” Nemo asked.
“Yeah. You know, the confetti cannons, the airhorns, and everything. And I was pretty much a dick about all of it.”
Nemo smirked, his attention still on Scheherazade as she forgot all about the ball and engaged in mortal combat with a boxing glove she found behind a laundry bin. “Yeah, you pretty much were. But that’s what makes it worth it. You are such a funsucker.”
A grunt off to his side made Nemo grin even wider.
“TB, relax. I get it. And you’re welcome.”
Scheherazade came sprinting back across the gym, her prize firmly clamped between her jaws. She was still fighting it by shaking it, trying to show it who was boss. Both men couldn’t help but smile at her antics.
TB wrestled the glove free from Scheherazade’s hold. “Hard to believe this is the ferocious dog that nearly bit your faces off in Sallum.” He looked closer at the glove. “Aw. It’s Midas’ glove. That’s too bad.” He threw the glove back in the direction it came from.
The dog gave a huff as if to say, “Really? I just rescued it from there!” Then she took off running to recapture it.
Nemo shook his head. “That’s the seventh one she’s destroyed. He’s gonna flip.” He paused. “You didn’t come down here to thank me for helping rescue Flame.”