CHAPTER

15

She fought back the tears. For an hour, while she spoke to the MPs, while she spoke to the coaches, while she spoke to her supervisor and finally while she made the call to the base hospital to check on her heatstroke Marine.

But the moment she heard he would be okay, she’d gone to her car, driven three blocks away, parked at the back of the commissary parking lot, and let the tears flow freely.

She let herself jag for a good ten minutes, then ordered herself to dry it up. He was going to be fine, and this was a hell of a learning experience—for her, and for the coaches and the athletes, too. As much as she hated thinking of it like that, she knew watching one of their own struggle with the heat would make the lecture she planned to give that much more impactful. She drove back to the gym, knowing she would find Coach Ace there. It was time to have a bit of a come-to-Jesus with him, and to accept part of the responsibility herself.

After a quick check in the flip-down mirror of her car and another minute spent with a cool water bottle over her eyes, she was ready to enter the dragon’s lair. She knocked on the door frame and waited until the large man’s head lifted. When he motioned her in, she sat down and waited for him to finish scribbling.

“Damn paperwork,” he muttered. “Every time I lose one, I’ve got reams of paperwork to shit out and hand back to someone. Makes me want to keep all of them just to avoid it.” When he put the final period on whatever form he was filling out, he did so with a vicious jab of the pen. When he looked up, he looked amused. “That’s a total lie. I wouldn’t keep some of these guys even if I had twice as much paperwork. So, Cook, I assume you’re here about Johnson.”

“Yes, Coach, I am. First off, I spoke to the hospital, and he’s doing okay. His temp is stable and his vitals are normal. They’re going to observe him a few more hours, keep him on the IV to make sure he’s hydrated then let him go.”

“Good, good.” The chair creaked under his weight as Coach Ace leaned back and laced his hands over his stomach. “And I can tell there’s more.”

“There is.” She took a breath; let it out slowly. “I made the mistake of not checking with you on the plans for the day. I know they were changed at the last minute, and that was unforeseen due to the . . .” She waved her hand in the general direction of the catwalk and the blood-like threat. “But the instant you made new arrangements, I should have asked you details on the location. If there was shade, if there was a place to refill our jugs. And, barring that, I should have asked for another fifteen or twenty minutes to load up a tent to bring with us. That’s my mistake.”

She waited, and he nodded. “I assume you’re going to tell me my mistake now.”

“Let’s just call it . . . What Would Cook Have Done Differently?” She smiled, hoping to soften the blow. But she’d say what she had to anyway. “The temp was way too hot to pull off the conditioning exercise you did. I should have stopped you sooner, and again, that was my error.”

“Seems you made several today.”

That stung. But she wouldn’t let it deter her. “I did. That doesn’t change the fact that I’d like to work with you in the future on conditioning and outdoor workouts. Inside, we’re shaded from the sun, and—pathetic though it feels sometimes—there’s air conditioning. Plus, the training room is inches away. Out there, in a different location, I’m limited. I could have helped him better if I’d had more equipment. And he might not have needed help to begin with if you hadn’t pushed them all to that point. I have no doubt that another ten minutes and I would have had four or five more Marines handling heatstroke. As it is, I think many of them will be running at half speed, max, for this evening’s program.”

Coach Ace watched her with his dark eyes, not moving a muscle. He really was like a ghost, as she’d heard some of the guys say in her room.

“So you want to tell me how to do my job.”

“Not even a little. I want to work with you to keep your guys healthy. I think you do, too. Your openness to try things like yoga and stretching was so encouraging. I want to keep moving along that train of thought.” She gave him her sweetest smile. “And think of this . . . the more Marines you keep, the less paperwork you have to do.”

He barked a laugh out at that. “You’ve got a point. Fine. If you want to take on the extra work, check with Coach Willis tonight. He’s got the list of workouts we plan before each practice. Though I’ll warn you, we go off script from time to time, when an ass-kicking is warranted.”

“Totally understood. I just want to be kept in the loop, that’s all. And I’d also like to have about ten minutes this evening before practice begins so I can give the guys the warning signs of heatstroke. Just things to look out for so they can come tell me if they’re feeling any of it.”

“That I can do. Ten minutes are all yours, when we start back up after break.”

She stood, then sat when he waved her back down. “Yes?”

“Got a call a few minutes before you arrived from headquarters. We’re normally assigned a liaison that keeps track of our business stuff when we travel. They’re usually not assigned until closer toward tournament time. But with this second . . . issue,” he said, eyes glancing up for a moment toward the defaced catwalk, “the brass want us to start meeting with her now. Since your room was trashed, she’ll likely be coming to see you later this evening. So there’s your warning.”

“Sure thing. No problem.” She hesitated. “Are these two incidents linked?”

“If they’re not, then my mama can’t cook.” He winked. “And my mama’s Betty Crocker’s first cousin.”

That made her grin. “Lucky you. I’ll see you later, sir.” She stepped out of the office and nearly ran into Brad. “Oh!”

“Hey.” He grabbed her upper arms and squeezed lightly. “You okay?”

“No harm done.” She smiled, but he kept watching her with those careful eyes, and she felt her lip start to tremble.

No, no, absolutely unacceptable. Pull it together, Cook.

“I’m fine. Johnson will be fine, and that makes it easier. I made mistakes, though.” And part of her wondered why she’d made them. Was it because she was distracted? Had the spray painted catwalk been to blame? Or Brad?

No, as far as that was concerned, she knew without a doubt that Brad, and their relationship, had nothing to do with the mistake. She’d made the error, no question. But not because of Brad.

“That’s good, that’s good.” He rubbed her arms and shoulders lightly. “We all need to be more careful about getting overheated. It’s not your fault.”

Just then, Marianne wanted nothing more than to let her forehead drop to his chest and give herself five minutes of relief from the negative thoughts still swirling around in her mind. But here was definitely not the place, and now wasn’t the time. So she took a steadying breath instead and stepped back. She started to offer to eat lunch with him in her training room, but caught sight of two more Marines over Brad’s shoulder, heading straight for them.

“Okay, so, I’ll see you later.”

“Later tonight?” He watched her intently. She nodded. “Okay. See you later.” He stepped around her and knocked on the coach’s door, asking if he had a moment. As Brad stepped in, she took another deep breath.

“Hey, Cook.” Higgs stopped beside her, with another Marine whose name she struggled to recall. The dark hair and tanned skin hinted at a Greek ancestry, though she wasn’t sure his last name had sounded too Greek.

“Hi. Here to see me, or Coach?”

“Neither.” The darker-haired one smiled, and she swore her own heart leapt just a little. Good Lord, he was handsome. As if understanding she was struggling to place his name, he added helpfully, “Sweeney.”

“Sweeney, right. Sorry.” She fought for a self-deprecating grin. “I suck at names. I’m just enjoying being able to yell out ‘Hey, Marine!’ and have an entire roomful look my way. Quite an ego boost.”

They both laughed, but she noted both their eyes strayed toward the coach’s door.

Then it hit her.

“You’re here for Brad. Costa,” she corrected quickly. Not quick enough, though.

“He’s in there, talking to Coach. We just thought we’d be here to take him out for lunch afterward.” Higgs stepped aside. “We won’t keep you.”

So polite. She nodded her head a little in acknowledgment. “Have a good break, boys. See you later. And make sure you rehydrate and stretch!” she called out over her shoulder.

*   *   *

BRAD walked out of the room, rubbing a hand over his hot neck. The coach had been pretty laid-back about the whole thing—even appreciative that he’d come straight out and explained it rather than sneaking around like moronic teenagers playing at Romeo and Juliet.

Coach’s words, not Brad’s. Apparently Coach Ace had a pair of “moronic teenagers” at home and knew the damage they could inflict.

He caught sight of Higgs and Sweeney hanging by the coach’s door in the gym. “What the hell are you guys doing here?”

“Moral support,” Sweeney said simply. “We weren’t sure how that was going to go, so we thought we’d be here to put out any flames.”

Higgs walked a circle around him. “No smoldering clothes, no obvious burn marks. Must have gotten out unscathed.”

Brad pushed at Higgs’ shoulder. “I’m fine. It was fine.” Then he blinked. “How do you both know what I was about to do?”

“I’m a genius,” his roommate said. “And Sweeney there’s a mind reader.”

“Uh-huh.” He started for the door.

“Mostly,” Sweeney said, falling in step with him, “I just wanted to be here to say it was cool, in case it was necessary. I mean, I doubt our input matters that much to the coach, even if he made us group leaders. But if he started pulling some This is an unfair advantage crap on you, we were ready to go in and back you up.”

“Like a couple of Beyoncé’s backup dancers.” When Sweeney and Brad both halted to stare at Higgs, he grinned. “‘All the single ladies, all the single ladies.’”

Sweeney reached around Brad’s back and kicked Higgs’ knee so it gave out and made him stumble. “Don’t say stupid shit like that again. That was awful.”

“I appreciate the support,” Brad said, putting the conversation back in perspective, “but it didn’t come to that. He knows both Marianne and I are mature adults and can handle ourselves.”

They were both quiet a moment. “That’s all we get?” Higgs asked.

“Yup.” That’s all it really was, truthfully. Coach Ace had had very little to say on the subject.

“Come on.” Higgs slung his arm around Brad’s neck so he couldn’t escape, and started walking toward the parking lot. “We’re going to Sweeney’s for lunch and a nap.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Do you know when the last time I had a good couch nap was?” Higgs sighed, like he was thinking of a long-lost lover. “I miss my couch. Napping on a bed isn’t nearly as restful. Wonder why that is?”

“Your body’s conditioned to think it’s settling in for eight hours of REM-cycle sleep. So when you get up after an hour, it feels cheated.”

Higgs and Brad both stared at Sweeney. “No shit?” Higgs asked.

Sweeney shrugged. “I don’t know—I just made that shit up.”

“Lawyers,” Higgs muttered. “You’re lucky you’ve got a house with a grill, or we could never be friends.”

“Thank God,” Sweeney said dryly.

“Could you two Golden Girls knock it off? We’ve got less than three hours before we have to be back. No way in hell can we waste that on a freaking nap.”

Higgs got to his car and pushed Brad into the passenger seat. Sweeney crawled in the back. “Why not?” Sweeney’s head popped between the two front seats. “What else were you gonna do? Go running in this heat?”

“Watch training videos, or . . .” Brad ran out of options. The other man was right. It wasn’t like he could safely work out in the heat. He’d be exhausted for evening practice, which was the opposite of the point. “I don’t know. Hit up a salad bar or something.”

“I’ve got lettuce,” Sweeney said. Then he glanced to the side, mentally considering the contents of his fridge. “I think.”

“Let’s try an easier one. Do you have a frozen pizza?” Higgs asked as he started his car.

“Well, duh.”

“Then we’re good.”

“I’m surrounded by children. Children who can’t eat properly without Mommy or Daddy forcing vegetables down their throats.”

“We could put olives on the pizza,” Sweeney suggested. “I might have a jar of olives somewhere in my pantry.”

Brad let his head fall into his hands as the other two laughed. But he was fighting back a smile himself as they pulled out of the back gate and headed toward Sweeney’s house.