He’d royally fucked that up. Something about the best intentions made him a total sucker.
She wanted him to have distance? It was the last thing he wanted. The last thing he believed either of them needed. But fine. He’d compete. He’d go to Texas and kick ass, as she’d requested.
But when he returned, he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
CHAPTER
19
“If we were real ballers,” Tressler said, settling down in the seat in front of Graham, “we would be flying private.”
“We’re not ballers,” Brad said, sounding disgusted. “And the day the military has the money to fly us private anywhere is the day we know something has gone very, very wrong in Congress.”
“Isn’t something always wrong in Congress?” Greg asked.
“Stop talking politics,” Graham muttered. He just wanted to wait for takeoff, take his motion sickness medication and pass the fuck out and not listen to these idiots anymore.
“Grumpy.” Tressler, He of Little Sense, leaned over the back of his seat. “What crawled up your ass and died? We’re finally going. It’s our time, baby.”
“Did you get more stupid in the last week, or am I just that much more annoyed with you?” Graham wondered out loud.
“Both,” Greg and Brad said together.
Tressler flopped back down with a huff, grumbling about old men who couldn’t take a damn joke.
“Okay, but really, what crawled up your ass and died?” Brad asked across the aisle, leaning back for someone to pass through. “You said you hate flying, and you’re clutching that packet of Dramamine like it’s a gold nugget. But that’s not all, is it?”
“Maybe I had a rough day off yesterday. Maybe I don’t want to talk about it. Maybe,” he said through his teeth, “I want everyone to mind their business.”
Greg snorted. “Bullshit. The day we mind our own business is the day we stop caring. And we love you, man.”
“I’m going to hit you.”
Greg settled against the window of their two-seat row. “Did you have a fight with Kara?”
“Drop it.”
“You both had so much to say when I was doing battle with Cook, and now you can’t take the heat yourself.” Brad’s self-satisfied smirk made Graham want to reach across the aisle and choke him. His teammate’s saving grace was the numerous people filing through, preventing him from doing so. Also, he’d have to let go of his Dramamine, and that wasn’t happening.
Greg reached in his bag under the seat in front of him and pulled out a thick book. Brad reached in front of Graham—which made him want to slam his hand down on the tray and lock it upright—and asked, “Did you take my book?”
Greg glanced at the cover, then shrugged. “Probably. You weren’t reading it. You’re never at our rooms anyway. You’re always with Cook.”
“So you just took my book? Jackass, hand it back. I wasn’t finished with it.”
“Oh my God, stop it, both of you. You’re like freaking two-year-old twin brothers. What fucking book could even be so important you’re going to bicker like babies about it?”
Greg held up the front cover. “Sandbox Seven. Military thriller. Marines, natch, given we are the best. Guy who wrote it was a Marine, too, I think.” He flipped to the back cover jacket. “Yup. Jeremy C. Phillips.
“I read that.” Tressler popped his head up again, like a fucking groundhog who was begging to be exterminated. “It’s good, especially because the guy actually knows his terminology. I met his wife once last year. She’s a Navy nurse.” He grinned. “And hot.”
“Go away, Tressler.”
He rolled his eyes and flopped down again.
Another few minutes passed, with less and less people walking past, and then Marianne approached. “Hey, boys. Sorry I don’t get to sit with y’all.”
Brad grabbed her hand and pulled her down for a quick kiss before she passed by. “Don’t have too much fun back there with the coaches.”
“Oh, it’ll be a challenge,” she said, then looked behind her with a sigh. “If Levi doesn’t get on this plane soon, I’m going to lose my second intern. That can’t look good for future employers, can it? Hi, I’m Marianne Cook, the intern slayer.”
“He’s a big boy. If he can’t figure out how to time his potty breaks like an adult, that’s on him, not you. He done being pissed about Nikki yet?”
“He doesn’t seem to be mad at me specifically, just the world in general. He really liked her. I’m sure it was puppy love, not the real thing. But in the throes of it, puppy love feels just as real.”
“If he has bad taste, there’s not a whole lot that you can do about it,” Greg pointed out.
Graham just grunted and did his best not to moan when he felt something shift under them. Closing the cargo door, likely.
“Wow, you’re really looking raw, Graham.” Marianne crouched down beside him, then felt his forehead. “You okay?”