Chapter 17

17

SARAH

M y muscles screamed in protest with every movement. It didn't matter if I was sitting, standing, bending over. Even breathing hurt. My ass felt like it was on fire. I could barely feel my arms anymore. Dean really pushed us to the limit, almost to the point of oblivion. He thought he was going to break me. There was no way in hell I would cave in front of him.

Kylee was stretched out on her bed, moaning. "I hate you," she muttered.

"Me?"

"You just had to challenge him. What is wrong with you?"

I laughed, which hurt. "Did you want him to think we were weak?"

"I've decided I am weak." She sighed. "I think I'm dead. No, scratch that. Dead wouldn't be this painful."

"Hush." I chuckled, reaching for my water bottle and taking a long gulp. "At least we survived."

"For now." Kylee hugged her pillow. "How are we going to make it through tomorrow? I don't even think I'll be able to get out of bed."

There was a knock on our door. Neither Kylee nor I made any attempt to answer it. "Come in," I called out.

It wasn't like we had to worry about someone busting in and murdering us. We were on a base.

Rolley limped in. His face was ashen, his sweaty shirt clinging to his lean body. He collapsed onto the hardwood floor with a groan.

"I'm never doing that again," he declared, staring up at the ceiling with a haunted look on his face.

"You say that now, but Dean will have us back there tomorrow bright and early," I reminded him lightly.

"There's no way." Rolley groaned and curled up into a fetal position on the floor. "I won't be able to move by tomorrow."

"Suck it up, Rolley," Clay's voice came from the hallway before he too stumbled into the room. Unlike Rolley, he mustered the strength to throw himself onto my bed, causing me to wince as my sore muscles were jostled around.

Kylee let out a soft whimper from her own bed. "Why did I sign up for this?"

"Because you're a masochist?" I suggested, attempting to make light of our collective agony.

"No," Clay murmured from somewhere near my feet. "She signed up because she has something to prove, just like the rest of us."

There was a pause. I looked over at Kylee, who stared back at me, her eyes filled with exhaustion and misery. "I don't think I have anything to prove."

As much as my body ached, a part of me knew it was worth it. Survival training was just around the corner, and if I wanted to stand a chance, I needed to be in peak physical condition. Dean may be tough as nails, but he knew what he was doing. I just had to trust his methods, even if they left me feeling like I'd been run over by a truck.

"We should go out," I said.

"You're nuts," Clay said.

"The alcohol will soothe our stiff muscles," I said. "We've been busting our asses all week. We need to blow off some steam."

"We're on death's door," Rolley said.

"We're fine. If we lay around all day, we're going to be solid stone tomorrow. We have to stay limber."

"I think I'm calling in sick tomorrow," Clay said. "I don't want to go through this again."

"I wouldn't do that," I warned. "He will make you pay."

"She's right," Kylee said.

"Come on, we need to go out," I said. "We'll rest for a couple of hours and then we'll go."

"Where?" Rolley asked with resignation.

"To the Fly Trap," I replied like it was obvious.

"You got kicked out of there, remember?" Kylee said.

I shrugged. "I didn't get banned."

"If we go, you cannot start a fight," Clay warned. "Because I can't back you up. You would be on your own and I don't think you're in any shape to be picking any fights."

I rolled my eyes. "I don't need your backup. And I don't pick fights. I don't know why everyone says that. I'm just the one that doesn't lay down and take bullshit."

There were a few grunts in response. And then it went silent. We all passed out. If I had the energy, I would have felt bad for Rolley on the floor. I probably would have kicked Clay out of my bed that was way too small for two people. But I didn't care. It wasn't like Clay was going to make a move. I didn't think he could if he wanted to.

I was the first to wake. It was dark out. I looked around the room and saw Rolley had left at some point. Clay was half hanging off my bed, his mouth open as he slept. Kaylee was still passed out as well. I should have taken mercy on them and let them sleep, but I wanted to go out. I didn't want to let Dean beat me down.

"Hey, let's get up and go," I said.

Kylee groaned. I nudged Clay with my foot. "Get up. We'll grab something to eat and then we'll go."

It took a lot of effort, but I finally managed to get them up and moving. Rolley drove, declaring he was staying sober. He was still feeling a little queasy after puking earlier.

I silently prayed Dean wasn't going to be at the bar tonight. I could really use a break from his relentless scrutiny. He was waiting for me to fail, salivating for the moment I threw in the towel. Like today. That was what he wanted. He thought he was going to push me into giving up. That man was mistaken. He didn't know me. He didn't know just how stubborn I could be.

But of course, luck was never on my side, and there he was, standing behind the bar alongside the rough-looking bartender. Our eyes met across the room. I could practically feel the weight of his gaze boring into me. He shook his head in silent admonishment, a reminder of the grueling session we endured earlier. I pretended not to see him and made my way over to a table with my friends.

I tried to push thoughts of Dean and his punishing workouts out of my mind. Tonight was supposed to be about letting loose and having fun, a much-needed reprieve from the stresses of training and the looming specter of survival tests.

"You know he's going to bust our ass tomorrow for sure now," Clay groaned. "Why is he here?"

"He owns the place," I replied.

They all looked at me. "What?"

"He's the owner."

"You could have mentioned that before," Rolley muttered.

"Who cares?" I said with a wave of my hand. "We're not doing anything illegal. This is what people do on the weekend. It'll just prove him wrong when we do show up to train tomorrow. Not to mention, tomorrow is completely voluntary. We don't have to go."

"Yeah right," Clay muttered. "It wasn't exactly a request."

The atmosphere in the Fly Trap was lively, the sound of laughter and chatter filling the air as people unwound after a long day. I ordered a pitcher from the bartender, eager to drown my aches and pains in alcohol-induced oblivion. I didn't see the same group from before. I truly hoped they weren't around. I didn't have it in me to fight, but I would if I had to.

We sipped our beers, and despite my best efforts to focus on the conversation swirling around me, I couldn't shake the feeling of Dean's eyes on me. It was like he was watching my every move, silently judging me for seeking solace in a night of revelry instead of dedicating every waking moment to training. He needed to understand I wasn't a robot. Not to mention, I kicked ass today. I refused to let him dictate how I lived my life. Tonight, I was going to enjoy myself, consequences be damned. If he didn't like it, he could kiss my entire ass.

Someone turned on the jukebox and Elvis Presley's iconic voice filled the air. I felt a smile tugging at the corners of my lips as the familiar melody washed over me. Suspicious Minds was one of my favorite songs. It instantly lifted my spirits. Without a second thought, I rose from my seat and began to dance, letting the music carry me away. I swayed back and forth, simply enjoying the music and letting it move through me. It was relaxing and it felt good to move. It kept my muscles from locking up.

The Fly Trap wasn't exactly a dancing bar, but that didn't stop me. Dean's eyes were on me, and for once, I didn't mind. In fact, I kind of liked it. Let him see me not as the trainee he's supposed to babysit. I've been looking at him for the man he is, not the instructor. I want him to see me as a woman.

When the song ended, I sat back down and enjoyed another glass of beer. Each sip eased the aches and pains that had plagued me earlier. It went down a little too easily.

"You feel better, right?" I grinned when Kylee refilled her drink.

She smiled. "Yes, but I'm worried I'm going to pay for it tomorrow. He's totally watching us."

I glanced over my shoulder to look at him. He was talking with the other bartender, his expression unreadable.

I shrugged dismissively. "Let him watch," I said as I turned back toward the table.

In the back of my mind, all I could think about was how much I wanted him to teach me a thing or two—both inside and outside of the cockpit. A while later, Dean emerged from behind the bar to collect empty glasses from a nearby table. Maybe it was the alcohol, but I suddenly felt brave enough to ask him some personal questions. He seemed to know everything about me. It seemed only right.

"Why are you bothering with this kind of work?" I blurted out before I could stop myself. "With your level of training, you could be anything, anywhere you wanted. So why here? Why this place?"

He smirked at me. "You know why I'm here."

I nodded, knowing full well I was the reason he was stuck here. But he obviously owned this bar before I came along.

"But why here?" I asked.

"To me, this place isn't a shithole. It's a sanctuary. A place to decompress with friends. It's not pretentious. No one can really relax if they have to worry about some asshole critiquing their choice of single malt. And it's an investment. I'm not going to be in the military forever."

"So this is your retirement plan?"

"Better than nothing." He shrugged and gestured to the man behind the bar. "That's Jude. He's my best friend, even though we don't talk all the time. We've been running the joint together for years. Well, I used to run it. I haven't been around much lately, thanks to some other obligations."

"Like your divorce?" The words slipped out before I could stop them. My cheeks burned. I immediately regretted the comment as soon as it left my mouth.

Dean's expression changed. I was embarrassed. Humiliated. My big mouth got me in trouble once again.

"Shit, I didn't mean to say it like that," I stammered, desperately wishing I could take back the words.