“Hospitals aren’t restful places. Even if you were asleep, it probably wasn’t a good deep REM,” Reagan pointed out. “But let’s ignore that. Have the MPs come to speak with you?”
“Yes, and the Feds, which shocked the hell out of me. But I guess it’s looking like it might be considered a terrorist threat, in the legal sense. I don’t think that’s what it is, though.”
“It’s crazy, is what it is.”
“No doubt about that.” Kara opened her eyes briefly, took in her friend’s less-than-pulled-together look. Her skirt was rumpled, her shirt half-untucked, her hair was falling from its formerly tidy chignon, and her eyes were rimmed in dark circles. “You look like hell.”
“Hey, at least I’m wearing real clothes.”
“Touché. What’s going to happen with the event?”
“It’s still going on, just at a new location. The first one, most of the damage was contained in the storage room, but the fire folks don’t want anyone going in there for a few days while they do a thorough check.”
“Sensible.”
“Sensible, but inconvenient. Luckily, Hood is big enough that we can change to a different gym. It’s tighter, not as nice, but it’ll suffice. These guys spend months in tents and little metal boxes in the desert. Competing in a boxing tournament in a second-rate gym is hardly going to stop them.”
“But he burned . . . something.” She tried to remember. They’d told her. What had they told her? “Something.”
Reagan’s voice softened as she said, “He burned their uniforms. No problems there, though. The Army and Air Force teams stepped up and are loaning our guys their practice gear so they can continue.” She paused a moment, and Kara closed her eyes again to let her friend’s voice drift over her. “It’s interesting. There’s this insane rivalry, almost like high school all over again. You know, two football teams from across town meeting up on homecoming night. Everyone’s got blood lust. But, you know, the adult version of that.”
Kara smiled, but kept her eyes closed.
“And yet, the second there’s trouble, when they could have said, ‘Aw, too bad, so sad, Marines. Better luck next year,’ everyone scrambles to help instead. Because everyone knows how hard everyone else worked to get here, and nobody wants to win by default.”
“Brothers in arms,” Graham said in a gravelly voice, waking up in inches. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, as if worried he might have drooled. He sat up and rubbed a thumb over Kara’s cheek, and she smiled at the caress. His touch erased so much pain.
“How you feeling, baby?”
“Tired.”
“We’ll get you out of here as soon as we can.”
“Graham, Greg and Brad are out in the waiting room. They didn’t want to come back in case she was sleeping, or not up for it. Why don’t you go keep them company while Kara and I chat a bit?”
He looked at her, uncertain. But Kara knew he wanted to hear how the matches had gone on in his absence. He simply wouldn’t admit it in front of her.
“Go.” She pushed weakly at his arm. “Go away so we can have girl time.”
“If you’re sure . . .”
“Very. Shoo. And call Zach for me, would you? I can’t handle it right now; it would give me a headache. He’d love to hear from you, though.”
“You got it.” He brushed a kiss gently over her forehead, then stood, grabbed his crutches and hobbled out.
“He is so in love with you, girl.”
Kara grinned, then dialed it back when it pulled on her bruised face. “I’m going to marry him.”
“Marianne told me,” she said. “What? She wanted to make sure I knew in case it came up while you were unconscious or something. She was just covering her bases. But thank you for telling me.”
“I need to close my eyes now,” Kara said, feeling the beginnings of another headache. Not being the type to suffer silently, she reached for the little clicker the nurse had shown her and pressed for more pain medication. “Talk to me for a few while I keep them closed?”
“No problem. Let’s start with how the site director, Al, hit on me this morning.”
Kara let the darkness act as a balm, and her friend’s voice ground her.
*
GRAHAM hated crutches. They were a menace to society. He hobbled as best he could, keeping an eye out for his friends. As he rounded the corner, he saw not only Greg and Brad, but the entire damn team filling the waiting room. They stood as one when he came into view, and several let out an “Oo-rah!”
“Shh!” hissed the nurse at the nearby desk.
“Sorry,” one of them called out from the back, earning another evil glare from the desk nurse.
Greg pulled out a chair like a waiter in a fancy restaurant. “Your seat, good sir.”
“Buzz off.” But he sat, because his armpits hurt. That was the worst part about crutches. He remembered now.
“How’s Kara?” Brad asked as the team members settled themselves again.
“Concussion, lots of bruises, raw throat. She’ll be sore for a while, but okay. She can’t fly home, for sure. Not yet. I’ll be renting a car and driving her home.”