THE CRAZY GOOD SERIES - Rachel Robinson Page 0,250

softening. Oh, her wicked backbone is still present, it’s just malleable when it comes to me. It’s different. I like it. Maybe if she had the soft spot the entire course of our relationship, we wouldn’t be starting back at square one. A weight has lifted from her shoulders, and in turn it’s comforted me. Wary comfort, but comfort all the same.

At work I’ve eased back into my daily routine with today being the exception. They’re poking and prodding, drawing blood and testing my oxygen supply along with every other organ in my body. Scientists want to know what makes us tick, what makes us so different than the average male. A riddle they’ll probably never solve.

I rip off the band-aid on the inside of my arm and toss it in a can next to the door. The weight room at work is busy as fuck today, so I decide to forgo lifting. It’s Frogman Friday, always an easy day, so I take off early for the boxing gym instead. Morganna’s schedule has been hectic all morning, or so Phillipe says, so I’m not sure what our plans are for the night. Something low key, I’m sure. My cell phone rings while I drive and I see Phillipe’s name on my screen. I never answer while driving. I send it to voicemail while pulling into the parking lot of No Easy Day. There are way too many cars for it to be lunchtime on Friday. It’s always dead in the middle of the day. I’m wary as I walk through the door with my bag slung over my shoulder.

“Welcome home!” Coach crows, his arms spread out wide. I grin. I see some of my boxing buddies and several of Coach’s friends, smiling, beers in hand.

“Aw. Gee. You shouldn’t have,” I say, taking the beer someone is extending my way. “How did you know I’d be here in the middle of the day anyways?” My phone chimes in my pocket, but I silence it so I don’t seem like a rude asshole.

“There are eyes everywhere,” someone says, and then a chorus of laughter echoes the office.

“So the plan is to get drunk and then box each other? You are men after my own heart. You know that, right?” I quip.

Coach pats me on the back. “I know a couple guys want a go with you in the ring and I figure if you have a couple beers in ya’ it will even the field a bit.”

I quirk a brow at him. “Really?”

“Okay, okay. It won’t level the field at all. We’re all just happy you’re home safe, Stevey. Your ugly mug was missed around here.”

It feels good. It’s not like he’s the first one who has told me I was missed. My mom and dad flew up for a weekend at my place when I got home and it was nice. Texts and calls came in a flurry for a week after my arrival from aunts and uncles and any family member who knew I was deployed. Then it stopped. And life goes on. Coach and my boxing family celebrating my safety and homecoming is icing on the cake.

I drain my beer. “Well, then who is going first? I need a workout!” I yell. Men cheer and we all make our way into the gym. Several beers, and two deep, bloody gashes later, I’m ready to go home and I’m fucking worn out. The sun set long ago. There’s also no way I can drive my truck the few miles down the road. I call the number which contacts the always-on-call-designated-driver, fucking-new-guy, SEAL to come pick me up. It’s a service to keep everyone safe, and it’s a way to make the new guys earn their stripes.

When he shows up in a jacked up truck, I hop in. I’ve showered and Coach bandaged my chin and cheek to the best of his ability. I might need a medic to look at it, perhaps give me a kitchen stich job.

“Hey, man. Thanks for picking me up. Can you bring me to Morganna’s? You know the place?” There’s no way I can remember her physical address right now. I could look it up, but I’m sure he knows exactly the house I’m referring to. I try to explain to the best of my current, drunken ability.

He nods. “Yeah, I know the place. Doing a little boozing with your boxing?”

I laugh. “Celebrating a little, yeah. Those two things don’t go well together, obviously.” I