Below the Belt(58)

“Brad?” Marianne’s voice was questioning, and maybe a little amused. “Are your legs jelly, too?”

“Apparently,” he muttered, trying to straighten his right leg. It only worked about ninety percent. The last ten wouldn’t budge. It was as if there were a roadblock in front of his kneecap preventing him from straightening completely.

“Brad?”

“Just gimme a sec. Sore,” he said through gritted teeth. He removed the condom before he made a mess and tied it off just as she popped her head over the edge of the bed.

“Problem?”

“Hit my funny bone,” he lied without hesitation. The fact that he still didn’t hesitate to lie made his stomach roil.

“That sucks. Want some ice for it?” She grinned. “Look at that. You’re getting preferential treatment after all.” She jumped down and raced to the hallway buck naked. “I’ll bring back a baggie!”

With her out of the room, he shot to his feet and hobbled to the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He debated for a moment, then sat on the toilet seat and turned the shower on. She wouldn’t bust in on him taking a shower. Wasn’t her style.

Brad stepped in and let the hot water beat down on his knee. After five minutes, he was able to slowly bend it all the way back, then straighten it fully after a sharp pop. He massaged the thigh just above, shifting his kneecap a little. The grinding, clicking sensation was back again, and worse than ever.

There was no way he could let this go on any longer. He had to make an appointment off base. Maybe it was nothing and a round of cortisone shots would clear him up. If that was the case, he could “admit” to the pain, let her diagnose him, and they could all move on.

He heard her reenter the bedroom with his ice and, knowing she would be waiting for him with a smile and a soothing touch, he dunked his head under the water and prayed that was all it would be. He’d started the journey toward the team risking only his chance to box. Now, he was risking his heart, too.





CHAPTER


17


The next afternoon, Marianne met up with Kara for lunch. Her friend had brought over bagged lunches to eat in her training room. Grinning, Marianne hopped up on a table and opened the bag with glee. “You coming over for afternoon yoga with the guys is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Oh, is it?” her friend asked with a laugh, sitting more delicately on the second table and opening her own bag.

“A healthy, hand-delivered lunch, girl talk, and the knowledge that I get to watch a bunch of Marines struggle through yoga poses in a couple hours?” Marianne held the Saran-wrapped sandwich aloft. “Hell yeah!”

“You’re supposed to keep them healthy, not laugh at them.”

“Laughter is good for the soul.”

“I don’t think laughter is what put that happy glow in your soul.” Kara leaned forward. “Something else is up. What is it?”

Thank God they were alone in the building—minus Coach Ace in his office, which was on the opposite side of the gym. “I think I’m in love.”

“Think?” Kara sat back and wrinkled her nose before picking out a baby carrot. “Wouldn’t you know?”

“It’s too soon to say for sure. I’ve known the guy for like two weeks!”

“When you know,” Kara said in a singsongy voice, “you know.”

Marianne sighed. “Fine. I know I’m in love. I just didn’t want to say it in case my mother heard and busted through the wall like the Kool-Aid Man. The woman can smell potential romance in the air like a hound dog chasing after an escaped convict.”

Kara laughed at the imagery. “That’s quite the picture you’ve painted for Mary.”

“Mary is a woman all to her own. And at least here, I know she’s not going to walk in and catch me with my proverbial pants down.” She told her friend about the scattered condoms in her apartment, which sent Kara howling with laughter.

“Oh . . .” Kara wiped tears away with her knuckles. “Oh my . . . I have no words.”

“I believe the word you’re looking for is ‘horrified.’” Marianne bit into a carrot with an extra vicious snap. “I have to keep her far away from Brad as long as possible. The instant she hears I’m dating a Marine . . . bam.” She smacked her hands together. “In comes Mary to tell me how to handle it. Wear this outfit, don’t wear that. Sweetie, do you think a stud like that would care for your hair all pulled back like that? How soon do you think you’ll start having gorgeous babies? Your eggs won’t stay fresh forever.”

“You do look nice with your hair down,” Kara conceded, then held up her hands in surrender when Marianne gave her a death stare. “But I understand it’s practical to keep it up at work. No arguments.” She glanced at Marianne’s baggy outfit. “Is this assigned wear, or do you dress all mannish on purpose?”

“I have to wear the shirt. It was the smallest size they had.” A unisex medium, which was more like a medium-large for a woman, swallowed her, especially when she usually wore a women’s small. “The pants are just . . . what I wear. They make it easy to bend and move around without showing off any butt crack. That’s a real deal breaker.”