CHAPTER

24

Brad paced the gym floor, not sure whether he was ready to knock down the coach’s door or run to the locker room to throw up. All he knew was he needed this to work more than he needed anything else.

“She’s been in there forever,” Higgs complained, walking over to Brad. He set his poster board down and propped an elbow on Brad’s shoulder. “What the hell could they be doing in there?”

“Coach started to open the door, like three minutes ago,” Chalfant said helpfully. “I think he caught sight of us and slammed it again really fast, ‘cause we weren’t ready for her yet.”

“Because she got here early,” Brad grumbled. He could only imagine what she was in there talking about. “If she’d gotten here at the time we set up, I’d be in there with her and I’d know what the hell she was thinking.”

“Breathe,” Higgs muttered. “Breathe, damn it. You’re going to hyperventilate and swoon.”

“Guys don’t swoon,” Chalfant said helpfully.

“Yeah, they pass out,” added one of Higgs’ group members.

“Everything’s a joke.” Brad rubbed at his forehead. He needed this to work. It had to work. He had to show her he could set aside his pride and be all in, the way she had been from the moment she agreed to jump headfirst into their relationship.

She deserved him to be all in, too. Hell, he deserved for him to be all in.

“You’re more nervous than a virgin getting grilled by your date’s daddy on prom night,” Higgs joked, poking him in the ribs.

“At least Coach Ace isn’t her daddy,” Tressler put in helpfully. The rest of the guys cracked up laughing. Brad scowled.

“I think you’re sweating more now than you do after two hours of cardio training.” Higgs lowered his voice so only Brad could hear. “You doing okay, buddy?”

“No,” Brad said tightly.

“Can I get out of this damn chair?” Tibbs asked.

“No,” Brad said again. “Now sit down, shut up and be a good prop.”

Tibbs grumbled, but stayed seated. It was the only way Brad would let him participate past helping to create his visual aid.

“Tired,” Higgs breathed after a minute. “So tired. We got, what, ninety minutes of sleep thanks to making these posters? When is she coming out of there?

“Pamphlets,” Brad corrected automatically. “They’re pamphlets.”

“Right. Pamphlets.” Higgs grinned at that. “Cook does love her pamphlets.”

Here’s hoping she loves this.

He started to ask Higgs to check the time again, then froze. Were those . . .

Were those footsteps?

“There’s almost an hour before morning conditioning.” He looked toward the hallway. “Who the hell would be here?”

“Uh . . .”

Brad swung around to stare at his roommate. “What did you do?”

“So, funny story . . .”

“What. Did. You. Do.”

“Okay, okay, calm down. You’re starting to scare me.”

“I know where you sleep. You should be scared.”

The door to the gym opened, and Graham Sweeney walked in, followed by his group. They each carried in their hands a poster, folded in thirds like the ones his and Higgs’ groups were holding, to resemble a pamphlet.

“Are those . . .” Brad squinted. “Are those pamphlets?”

“They are. What?” Higgs said when Brad glared. “I thought we needed reinforcements.”

“I don’t even know what those say!” Brad wanted to wrap his hands around his roommate’s neck and squeeze. So very slowly. Ounce by precious ounce of pressure, until his roommate’s eyes bugged out like a cartoon character.

Higgs shrugged unapologetically. “What? If five is good, ten is better. If ten is better, fifteen is best. They like Cook, and they respect you. They want to help.”

“Great, but . . . what the hell do those things say?”

“All the leftover ideas we scrapped because we didn’t have time to make enough pos—pamphlets,” Higgs corrected himself. “It’s all stuff you agreed to, just didn’t have time for. Seriously, nothing too off the cuff. Don’t worry, they stay in the spirit of the thing.”

“The spirit of the thing,” Brad repeated through his teeth. He was a man on the edge. He didn’t want this ruined by anyone’s attempt at humor.

Sweeney walked over and slapped Brad on the shoulder. “Big morning, huh? Early practice.”

“Why are you here?” he heard himself ask before he could think better of it. Then he winced at how ungrateful it sounded.

“Because you’re a teammate. Even if teams haven’t been finalized, I think of you as a team member. We all do. And these infants respect the hell out of you, Grandpa.”

At that, Brad felt his lips twitch. “I respect the hell out of you, too. Thanks.” He shook Sweeney’s hand, then grunted when the other man brought him in for a chest-thumping hug.

“Here she comes,” Chalfant hissed. The sound echoed through the gym, and then the silent room was full of the shuffling of running shoes on hardwood as Marines scrambled to take their places.

The first face Brad saw was Coach’s. He looked smug, and maybe a little satisfied.

And then he saw Marianne.

And prayed he was looking at his future.

*   *   *

WHEN the coach cleared his throat, Marianne nearly jumped out of her seat. “I think that’s enough for now.”

She looked down at the form she was typing out, then at the screen. She was only half done. “But I—”

“Cook, that’s enough.” His tone had edged into his hard-ass coaching voice. “Go get set up for your day. I’ll work on it later.”

She glanced at him skeptically, but shrugged. Fine then. “Okay, well, if you need me, you know where to find me.”

He stood and waited for her to walk around the desk, then opened up the door. She hesitated this time, wondering if he’d pull the same trick and close her in again. When he raised a brow, she pointed to him, then the door. “I was just making sure you weren’t going to repeat the last performance at the door.”

“Smart-ass,” he said fondly.

“It’s genetic.” With a smile she hoped he took sincerely, she stepped out of the office.

And straight into Pamphlet Heaven.

Everywhere she looked, there were Marines standing around, holding poster boards tri-folded like pamphlets. And they were all watching her expectantly. Concerned, confused and maybe a little scared, she looked back at Coach. He nodded and nudged her out into the gym fully.

She walked by the first Marine—Tibbs, who was sitting down like a good boy—and read the outside of his poster.

“Why Marianne Cook Is an Amazing Trainer,” she read out loud. Tibbs opened the fold, and she read through several bullet points about her accomplishments as an athletic trainer . . . most of which weren’t so much academic or career-related, but emotional. Things like, “She has gentle hands” or “She’s efficient” made her smile. She swallowed hard when she read, “We trust her, all the way.”

“Thank you,” she whispered to Tibbs, then walked to Chalfant. He grinned at her, his freckled face looking so young and sweet, and presented his own pamphlet.

“Why . . .” She let out a short chuckle before she could finish the title. “Why Brad Costa Is a Kick-ass Boxer.” She looked around for Brad, but either her eyes were too watery to find him, or he was actually not in the gym. “Tell me, Chalfant, why is he a kick-ass boxer?”

Without a word, the young Marine opened the pamphlet and let Marianne read Brad’s finer points . . . which were listed in several different handwritings. Clearly, his group had gone in on this one together to write out why each of them adored him. He really was a wonderful leader. The idiot.

She walked to Tressler, who winked. She tried to keep a stern face, but failed miserably. “What do you have for me here?”

“This one’s a good one.” He held it up. “Why Cook and Costa Make a Good Team.”

“Oh,” she breathed out, her breath catching in her throat. Oh, God. There was no way she could read this one out loud. She read silently instead. It was done in Brad’s handwriting, making it that much more special. He talked about their dedication, their willingness to push past obstacles to make the boxing team better.

It was sweet, but it wasn’t a relationship-maker.

The next one made her double over in laughter. One of Higgs’ men held up a pamphlet titled, “Why Marianne Loves Brad.” That arrogant moron. She couldn’t help but smile as she read the inside in the spirit he meant it . . . humorously.

Several more pamphlets pointed out what he respected about her, what he admired about her. Why he was sorry he’d evaded the truth. They were wonderful, affirming things to hear.

But they weren’t enough.

Until she came to the last one. Higgs was holding it, and he smiled softly. “This one is the best one yet. It took me forever, so you better like it.”

“I’m sure I will,” she said, biting her lip to keep from grinning at the absolute insanity of this project. He flipped it around, and she nearly gasped. Only the reminder that there were nearly twenty Marines staring at her from behind kept her from making a sound. But she let her hand drift up to cover her trembling mouth as she read the title.

“Why Brad Costa Fell in Love with Marianne Cook.”

She stepped forward and whispered, “Where is he?” as she read through the reasons. Because she made him laugh. She made him relax. She gave him perspective, kept him from taking himself too seriously, kept him grounded. Because she was willing to make tough choices, and he loved her for caring more about his health than hurting his feelings or making him angry. Because she was it for him. Because he recognized her.

Marianne blinked rapidly to clear her eyes. A few tears escaped anyway and trickled down her cheeks. She wiped at them impatiently with the back of her hand. “Higgs. Where is he?”

“He’s over here.”

She whipped her head around to find Brad standing in the doorway of her training room. His posture said he was relaxed, with his arms crossed over his chest and one shoulder propped against the door. But she could see in his eyes the intensity and focus, and knew if she laid a palm over his heart, she would feel vibrations of energy.

She started toward him, then turned back around for a moment, cupped her hand and called, “Thank you!”

The Marines all waved and started for the hallway toward the parking lot—presumably to store the posters in their cars. But she couldn’t let them go without hitting home that she appreciated their efforts.

“Oo-rah!”

The group paused and turned to look. A few held their fists in the air and as one, let out a booming “Oo-rah!” that echoed through the rafters of the gym. Her heart swelled at that moment, loving each and every one of them.

They left in a noisy, lovable huddle, and she waited until they were gone. But she couldn’t ignore Brad forever. And when he reached for her, she didn’t hesitate to walk right into his arms and wrap hers around his waist. Burying her face against his chest, she whispered, “I missed you.”

He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, then rested his cheek there. “I missed you, too. I’m sorry.”

“Clearly,” she said, laughing. “What the hell made you think to do this?”

“My lady likes her pamphlets.”

She laughed. And then kept laughing, despite the fact that it wasn’t funny so much as true. But her nerves were running a mile a minute and she couldn’t catch up, and if she didn’t laugh, she was afraid she’d cry. Laughing was safer, overall.

“I love you,” he murmured when she finally took a breath.

Pressing her tear-streaked face into his shoulder—tears from laughing, she swore to herself—she nodded.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

She bit him.

“Ouch! Vicious. Now I’m gonna have to have the trainer fix me up.”

“She’s currently unavailable. I heard she was making out with her boyfriend.” Marianne tilted her head back enough to smile at Brad’s amused face. “Don’t make a liar out of me.”

He kissed her lightly, just a teasing brush of lips. She wanted more. So, so much more.

“I didn’t hear you say anything back.” He pulled away, and though his tone was light, she could see lingering worry heavy in his eyes.

“Maybe I should string you along.”

“Maybe you should—”

“Children.”

They jumped apart as if they’d been tossed by a catapult. Marianne’s face heated, and she watched the flush creep up the back of Brad’s neck as they both turned to see Coach Ace standing in the doorway, thick arms crossed over his chest.

His tone was serious, but his eyes hinted at humor . . . she hoped.

“Cook? You’re not going to make the same mistake, am I right?”

“No, Coach.”

“And Costa, well, we’ve already spoken, haven’t we?”

He nodded. “Yes, sir.”

With a sigh, he shook his head, chuckling a little. At least, she was pretty sure that’s what that chest rumble was. “Don’t screw it up this time, the both of you. I can’t have my athletes running out to the craft store every time you two have a fight.” He started to walk away, then turned back to add, “Warm-ups in twenty-five, Costa. Don’t make me come back here and drag you out.”

Brad nodded, unable to speak.

They turned to watch each other silently, eyes wide, mouths trembling with the effort to hold back the laughter, both mouthing to stop it, shut up, no you shut up until he was out of hearing distance. Then they both lost the war of the laughs and doubled over, falling against each other. Brad leaned into the nearest exam table and pulled her back to his front, cupping her from behind as the hilarity subsided.

“Would you really have quit the team?” she asked a few minutes later, after they’d simply stood with each other, pressed together, absorbing each other’s presence. “It’s what you’ve wanted since your dad died. How could you give that up?”

He squeezed her tighter to him. “I would have lost this. How the hell could I give this up for some boxing award?” He nuzzled against her neck. Her eyes fluttered closed at the sweet feel of it. She wanted to imprint the memory of his lips right there, at the base of her hairline, forever.

“My mom talked me in circles a little. But really, it came down to the reason making the team was important in the first place. Because of my dad, yeah. I want it for me, too. But my dad was the catalyst. The reason I even considered trying out. And I think he’d be more disappointed in me if I’d let the team drag me away from you, than if I’d been cut for whatever reason. So what was I doing, if not making him proud, and not making me happy? Nothing. It was nothing without you.”

She sighed and turned in his arms, locking her fingers around his neck. “I’m not going to let you off the hook, you know. I read your paperwork, and I know exactly what you can and can’t do, per doctor’s orders.”

His eyes narrowed. “Okay, but maybe just some modifications on the—”

“Nope.” She pressed a quick, hard kiss to his mouth. “I’m not going to let you being my guy blind me anymore. In fact, I might be tougher on you than anyone from here on out.”

“Great,” he muttered, but she kissed him again.

“I’ll be all over your ass for icing, and wearing your brace, and doing your exercises at home. Oh, yeah,” she added when he winced. “I know exactly what they are, and I know exactly how much they suck. You’re still doing them. Because if not, I’m kicking your ass. Then I’ll step aside and let Coach kick it.”

“Point made.”

“We’re doing this right this time. We jumped in so fast before, we weren’t ready.” She took a deep breath and gave him the most serious look she could muster when he was pressing against her with an impressive erection. “I’m ready now.”

“Ready for what?”

“All of it. We’re doing this right.” She paused. “Maybe you should just move your stuff over to my place.”

He shrugged. “Works for me. Though I’ll have to keep a few things in the BOQ, for curfew nights when Coach asks us to stay here.”

“Understandable.” She grimaced. “And you’ll have to have dinner with my parents.”

He heaved a sigh. “It’s inevitable.”

“My mom will probably flirt with you.”

“Two for one, score.”

She pinched what little skin she could grab hold of on his stomach. He arched away. “Damn, woman.” Capturing her wrists in one hand, he locked them between their bodies. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She rose on her toes to kiss him once more before they started their day.

“Hey, Marianne, I—oh.” Levi stood frozen in the doorway of the training room. “Wow, uh . . . awkward.”

Maybe a little. But not nearly as much as it would have been a week ago. “Sorry, Levi. We’ll be out of here in a second.”

“Okay.” He started to back away, then glanced over his shoulder. “Do you know why there’s a pile of Marines sleeping in the lobby like a litter of puppies?”

Marianne and Brad looked at each other, then both shrugged. Levi shook his head and walked toward the locker room.

“This . . . I’ve got to see.” Marianne started for the door, jolting back when Brad pulled at her arm. “What? C’mon, how do you pass up that opportunity?”

“I don’t. Bring your phone. We’re gonna want photographic evidence.” He waited for her to grab it from her desk, then kissed her hard and slapped her ass. “First one there gets to upload the photo to Facebook.”

“You’re so on.” She sprinted after him, knowing he’d win.

But they’d both won, in the end.