Stinger (A Sign of Love Novel)

"Uh, yeah, you kinda did man. What kind of * voodoo did she cast on you?"

"Funny. No, I meant, I'm not making all these changes because of Grace. I'll most likely never even see her again." I paused as the pain in that statement washed over me. I had thought about contacting her and letting her know my plans. But what if I failed? No. I needed to actually accomplish something before I let Grace know. "I just realized it's time, that's all. I can't do porn forever, man. It was time for me to come up with some kind of life plan, some direction at least."

Dylan nodded. "I can't disagree. I mean, as badass as it was to have women porn stars showing up at our house parties." He grinned. "Not that there's been any partying going on here lately, you monk."

I chuckled, but then I grew serious, putting my hands behind my head and leaning back on the couch. "Man, I might be right back here next year. Do you know what a long shot this is going to be?"

Dylan studied me. "Nah, you won't be."

"No, seriously, the odds are not in my favor when it comes to becoming a SEAL."

"How do you figure?" Dylan asked, taking another sip of his beer.

"Dude, I explained the whole twenty percent thing, I explained about all the insanely talented athletes that try out every year and don't make it–"

"Yeah, you did, but here's how I see it. It doesn't all come down to how great of an athlete you are, or how fast you can swim however many yards in the ocean while on the verge of hypothermia." He sat his beer down and took his feet off the coffee table and sat forward on the couch. "What it comes down to is how much heart you have, and how you will give this your all, not because anyone will give you accolades, but on the contrary, because no one ever has, and you don't depend on that for your success. Those guys out there who have been coddled constantly, and cheered for their whole lives, they'll be the first ones to quit when they don't have anyone to depend on but themselves. But not you–because you've never known any different. And that sucks. But in this case, it's your strength. It's your ace in the hole. I'd bet on you, Carson Stinger."

He picked up his beer and sat back and kicked his feet up on the coffee table again as I stared at him, not knowing what to say. "Did I tell you I was making a career change too? Motivational Speaking. Don't all line up at once, people."

I burst out laughing.

Dylan grinned, but then went serious. "Meant every word of it, bro."

"I know you did, man, I know." I held up my bottle in cheers to him.





CHAPTER 16


Eight months later, April



Grace



I sat in the semi-darkness, staring at the horizon, hearing the bird conversations begin all around me. I smiled as the yellow glow in the distance hit my eyes. It was like those birds knew moments before the glory of the sunrise would appear and were singing its welcoming praises. I sat there until the full, round sun had fully emerged from beyond the horizon. I thought of Carson, as I always did when I watched the sun rise. I wondered where he was. I wondered if he was happy. But I didn't let myself wonder any more than that, still couldn't let myself wonder any more than that.

I continued on my run along the C&O Canal with the other early morning joggers and when I was done, I drove home and took a quick shower. I needed coffee. I guess I'd never really be a morning person. But I made it a priority to set my alarm to run outdoors rather than on the treadmill, so that I could watch the sun rise as often as I could. I'd missed too many of them already.

I'd be graduating law school at the beginning of the summer and the next two months were going to be jam packed with studying and test taking. Plus, I'd been applying for jobs in D.C., hoping to get a position in the prosecutor's office. I was filled with excitement to see where life would take me now that I was headed in a direction I had chosen for no other purpose than I wanted it. I put the coffee on to brew and went about starting my day.

**********

Carson



"Get your dicks out of the dirt shitbags!" Instructor Wegman yelled. Holy mother of Christ, every muscle in my body was screaming out in pain. We had been at this for almost five hours straight now, our punishment for failing a knife inspection during our first week of SEAL Training. We had been about to do an ocean swim and the instructors came around to inspect our gear, an inflatable vest, Co2 cartridge and Ka-Bar knife. When Instructor Flynn had rubbed my knife on his arm hair, he had looked up at me and yelled, "FAIL!" Fuck me. By the end of inspection, seven other men and I were told to join the instructors at the Grinder–our workout area–at ten p.m.