My old man was still in prison for manslaughter, and he wouldn’t be out till he was eighty—if he didn’t die before that. Prison wasn’t exactly conducive to a long life.
Watching him destroy not only his own life but that of my mom and my sister and brother with it had been a good lesson for me. I’d stepped up to help my mom and had been a bitof a father surrogate for Forest, my brother, who’d only been eight when my dad had gone to prison. My sister, Meadow, had been ten but much older emotionally. Anyway, I looked like my father, both in appearance and in character, and it was one of the reasons why I’d joined the Army.
Discipline had sounded like the perfect antidote for my temper, and in many ways, it had been. Bootcamp had been sheer hell for me, but after that, I’d taken to Army life like a fish to water. I had learned to swallow my anger and to listen to my superiors, even when they were dead wrong. And, slowly but surely, I’d gotten control over my temper, and it rarely flared.
Until my…accident. Shit, I still didn’t know what to call it. Losing a limb in battle was one thing, but getting your leg blown off because some dumbfuck didn’t do his job properly? That was all kinds of unfair, and I had a hard time calling it an accident.
But anyway, what happened to me had made that old anger resurface, and I wasn’t happy about that at all. I’d never been Mr. Sunshine like Point Break over there, but these days, I barely recognized myself sometimes. If this fury, this quiet rage inside me, stayed with me much longer, those sharp lines would be permanently etched onto my face.
And for some reason, Heath brought out the worst in me. He had from the moment I’d met him, and I hated him for it. How was he so unfailingly accurate at pushing my buttons? How did he manage to find the weak spots, the tiny slivers in my usually formidable defenses? With unerring accuracy, he’d homed in on them, and as a result, I’d lashed back.
I had hurt him. I might not ever win prizes for emotional intelligence, but I also wasn’t stupid, and I had picked up on the hurt in his eyes. Oh, he’d tried to hide it, but he hadn’t been successful, and I’d felt like utter shit.
Bullshitting with him was one thing, and so was teasing and ribbing and even the rivalry and competition we had going, but ithad never been my intention to cause him pain…and I had. That didn’t sit well with me at all, though I wasn’t sure what to do about it. If I apologized, would he accept it? Or would he use my words against me and make things worse?
As usual, I asked myself the same question I always did when I wasn’t sure what the wisest course of action was: WWND. What Would Nash Do? Jesus was little help to me, no offense, so I’d like to pick the one man I’d come to respect more than anyone else. What would Nash do in this situation?
He’d apologize. He’d swallow his pride and do what he could to make things right. Despite being a career soldier, he was a firm believer in keeping the peace with everyone as much as he could until people crossed a line and justice had to prevail. Then, he was ruthless.
But my beef with Heath wasn’t about justice. It was about me being a dick, and that required an apology.
Goddammit.
We stayed out of each other’s way the rest of the session, though I caught him glaring at me a few times, and Kent shot us some inquisitive glances as well. “If I ask you two to do some exercises together, is it going to be war again? Or can we keep things civil this time?” he asked.
I ground my teeth. “I’ll be nice.”
Heath snorted. “I wasn’t aware you even had that setting. I figured your only options were angry or rude.”
“Jesus Christ,” Kent mumbled. “Now I know how kindergarten teachers feel.”
“We’ll behave,” I assured him. I’d just keep my mouth shut the whole time. Surely that would be effective in keeping things calm, though not exactly cordial. Though I did want to get the last word in. “Even if Heath is the one being rude.”
Kent jammed his finger in my face. “Not one more word out of you.”
Why was he berating me for? I’d been the one who’d promised to be civil, no?
Then he turned to Heath and shot him a deadly glare. “And that goes for you too. Complete silence. All I want to hear is the sound of your sweat hitting the floor.”
Okay, then.
Other than the occasional grunt, Heath and I didn’t say anything as we ran through some balance exercises together. I guess he’d gotten the message that Kent meant business too. I still had to find a way to apologize to him, though, and I sure as fuck wasn’t gonna do that in front of Kent. No, I’d wait until we were done.
By the time my hour was up, I was covered in sweat. Guess I’d better shower before I drove home because I smelled like ass, and I wasn’t gonna stink up my car.
I followed Heath as he used his crutches to get to the locker room. He’d already been in the exercise room when I arrived, so I hadn’t realized I’d picked a locker right across from his. I opened the lock and got my stuff out.
“Listen,” I said, turning around.
Heath had been staring at me, and he startled, immediately looking away. What was that about? Had he been lost in thought or checking out my ass? Funny how that last thought sent a flare of heat through me.
“What?” he snapped.
I took a deep breath and mentally counted to five. “I-want-to-apologize.”
He slowly turned his face toward me. “I didn’t catch that.”
“I want to apologize.”
