Page 1 of With You

PROLOGUE

SAM

Basic training was a mother fucker.

Don’t get me wrong, I knew this was going to be hard, maybe the hardest thing I’d ever done. That my body would be put through scenarios and training sessions that were so intense I’d want to quit, or die. I’d definitely wished for death at least fourteen times during the last six weeks.

But I still got up every day, ate the shit food and worked myself until I could barely breathe. I was going to be a fucking Marine even if it killed me. Which it very well might.

“That ass is looking good, Hebert!” Shithead number one shouted from behind me. I rolled my eyes, completely immune to the degradation at this point.

“Yeah? I figured the sight would be getting old by now, Martinez. I’ve finished ahead of you in every obstacle since we arrived at this hell hole.”

Male chuckles sounded from around us and I kicked my pace up a notch hoping Martinez could taste the dirt flying off my shoes.

“Bitch!” Shithead number two shouted at my back. I wished they’d get more inventive with their name calling. Something like chode licking thunder douche. Which is what I’d called Walker yesterday when he’d tried to trip me during the casualty evacuation scenario. I smiled at the memory of his red, pissed off face. Good times.

“You look way too happy to be here. If you aren’t careful, you’ll get another mile added on. Which you might be able to handle but I’ll need a lung transplant if this torture doesn’t end soon.” I glanced to my left and took in the man who’d spoken. What was his name again? Rudy? Russ?

He was a few inches taller than my 5’10” and had a runner’s build which was ironic given that he looked like he was about to pass out. Long, lean muscles glistened with sweat and I could see colorful tattoos peeking out of his standard-issue t-shirt sleeves. I shuddered at the thought of voluntarily letting a needle pierce my skin. It was hard enough getting all the shots I needed before basic.

His brown hair was cut short like the rest of the men here and I wondered what it would look like had it been allowed to grow out. Black-rimmed glasses kept sliding down his nose thanks to the copious amounts of sweat we all had pouring off of us. He was cute, in a nerdy boy way and the sideways smile he gave me raised that cute factor another notch.

Not that it mattered, romance wasn’t even on my list of priorities at the moment. I was here to work. Women in the armed forces were already subject to judgment for the fact that we had vaginas instead of penises. Flirting with a fellow recruit would just confirm the not so silent prejudices in their tiny bigoted brains.

I threw him my best stink eye hoping to discourage anymore chit chat and refocused on my breathing, pumping my arms in time with each step. But nerd-boy wasn’t shaken off so easily.

“Seriously, how are you doing this?” His breath puffed out in quick pants as he kept pace next to me. “You look like you’re on a leisurely stroll through the park and not a death march in air so humid it feels like I’m slogging through fucking molasses.”

I laughed at that, “Molasses?”

His laugh was loud and I jerked my eyes toward the front of our pack hoping our drill instructor didn’t hear him. When it looked like we were safe, I kept my head facing forward but cut my eyes to the side to see him.

“You better keep it down…” I let my words hang, hoping he’d fill in the blank where his name should be. I really was shit at remembering names.

“Ross. Monroe Ross.” He gave me a tiny salute and I felt my lips twitch like they wanted to lift into a smile but I resisted the urge. “And you’re Samantha Hebert.”

I tilted my eyebrows up at hearing my full name. Only knowing the last names of your fellow recruits was pretty common. It’s what was shouted at us from the second we arrived at basic and the habit formed quickly. I hadn’t been called Samantha, or my preferred Sam, since I left home.

“Intelligence is going to be my MOS.”

Of course, it was. We’d choose our MOS, or military occupational specialty, after we completed basic training. But given Ross’s lack of stamina and my original classification of him, it made perfect sense that he’d become an intelligence specialist.

“If you’re trying to hit on me, don’t bother. I’m not interested. And even if I was, telling a girl that you’ve been looking into her is creepy.”

“I’d never dream of it,” he said smoothly. “Just thought we could both use a friend while we give our healthiest and best years to the U.S. government.”

I shifted my eyes sideways again to assess the truth of his statement. He looked unbothered by my brush off and he shrugged his shoulders in a good-natured way, like it didn’t necessarily make a difference if I wanted to be his friend or not. This surprised me. I’d full on expected him to hurl a sexist slur my way and never speak to me again, it’d happened more often than I could count. Men were nothing if not predictable, my mother’s many relationships taught me that.

“What the hell. You can call me Sam or Hebert.”

“Roe is my preferred name, not that you asked.” That smile was back and he flashed it my way.

“Not a fan of Monroe?”

“Nope.” He didn’t elaborate and I wasn’t a fan of pushing people to give unwilling explanations.

We continued to keep pace with each other for the rest of the run. Never knowing I’d just started one of the most frustrating relationships of my life.

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