Page 61 of Body Shot

“Oh no, no, no.” Beck returns, slinging a bar towel over his shoulder. “No talking about me behind my back.”

“It’s not behind your back when you’re right here, man.” Marco elbows him. “Your girl wants to know more. And we have stories to tell.”

“Fuck that,” Beck says mildly. “I know what kind of stories you assholes will tell her.”

“Ah, we won’t embarrass you too much,” Marco says.

“Then what are we going to tell her?” Cade asks, eyebrows raised. That earns him a punch from Beck and he laughs.

“How about the time you failed the four-mile timed run on the beach by one second.”

Beck groans. “Christ. That was so fucking hard. We were running on the beach in long pants and jungle boots. When I failed, I got sent with four other guys to form a goon squad. We had to run sprints up and down the sand, jump into the cold water, then roll in the sand. I had fucking sand in my eyes, my nose, my ears—even my dick and balls were sandy.” He winces. “The sand was rubbing my wet skin raw and nearly every muscle in my body broke down. It was my first and last goon squad—I was determined that would never happen again. Failed byone second.” He shakes his head.

I can’t even imagine that kind of hardship and determination.

“How about the Hell Week where I pissed on your hands?” Marco asks.

My eyes bug out. “Whaaaaat?”

Beck laughs. He looks at me to explain. “It was Hell Week—that’s the third week of BUD/S training.”

“It’s five and a half days of cold, wet hell,” Marco adds.

“You get about four hours of sleep,” Beck continues. “While they test your physical endurance, mental toughness, your tolerance to pain and cold, your teamwork, attitude, and your ability to work under stress.”

“For most of us, it was a defining moment,” Cade adds. “That’s when you realize either how much you want to do this or how much youdon’twant to do this. And when you’re finished, you realize you can do way more than you ever thought possible. It’s like the greatest achievement of your life.”

My chest blooms with heat, thinking about how difficult that must have been, and these three men succeeded.

“Yeah,” Beck agrees. “When you’re in combat you look back on that and remind yourself that you’re capable of so much more. Anyway, it was Hell Week and we’d been floating in the ocean for fucking hours. We were all in the early stage of hypothermia when we got out and they made us lay naked on the steel pier and sprayed us with cold water. I was shivering so hard I thought I was going to break a bone.”

“Oh my God.” My eyes widen.

“Marco had to pee. I told him go ahead and pee right there. So he pissed on my hands. It was warm and it felt so goddamn good.”

I cover my smile with my hand.

“Anyone who thinks that’s gross has never been that cold,” Beck adds fervently.

“Wow. They really torture you guys.”

“Yep.”

“Good times,” Cade says. “Remember when you tried to assault a tray table with a butter knife?”

“Ha.” Beck’s smile is wry. “Yeah.”

“That’s how he got his nickname,” Marco says to me. “Bear Hunter.”

I smile uncertainly.

Beck shakes his head. “And I never heard the end of that, the time we accidentally ended up in a gay bar.”

I blink blankly.

“A bear is a—” Marco starts.

“Never mind,” Beck says. “So, we’d had about three hours of sleep all week. I swear Hershall told me to kill the bear in the corner with the butter knife. Sure enough, I looked over and there was a goddamn bear in the corner of the chow hall. So I started to do it. I was hallucinating.”

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