Page 61 of Cultivating Caden
“Yes, sir!”
Peter inspired Caden. He’d thought that to be brave meant to stand there until someone died. He never even considered that running away could be as important. And he understood. He couldn’t fight if he died. He got on the mat again.
“One more time.”
Quade got up. “Really, we don’t have to do this.”
“Yeah, we really do.” Caden was confident. He’d watched Peter, seen how he’d done things. Hecoulddo this.
“Are you sure about this?”
“Yes! Let’s go.”
Quade sighed and shook his head. He stalked toward Caden, who stood, ready to do… something. When Quade reached him, Caden tried to sweep his leg like Peter had, but Quade caught his ankle before he could do anything and lifted him off the ground. Caden was humiliated.
“Peter’s advice is good, but it’s coming from a man with forty years of experience in the military. You can’t expect to learn this stuff by watching it once. The part about running away? Listen to that.” He tossed Caden onto the mat, where he ended up sprawled out. Quade stood over him grinning. “Now, get up and let’s try it again.”
“You’re kidding?” Caden groaned. “How about a break?”
“You won’t get a break on the battleground, soldier. The enemy won’t care if you’re tired—he only cares that you’re dead.”
Caden was about to snap back, but Quade stopped him. “He’s right. I don’t like the idea that you want to fight, but if you’re going to, I intend on making sure you’re trained. If your abilities are reactive, then we need to prepare you to live long enough for them to kick in. Now, get up.”
And on it went. Each time Caden thought he had the drop on Quade, the bastard grinned and took him down like he was nothing. And he made him get up again and again. Sweat poured off Caden, and he was certain he’d drop when Quade called a break.
They went over and got some water, with Peter tagging along.
“You’re not doing bad, kid. You’re still green, but with practice, I think you can become a damn fine soldier.”
It was hard to reconcile the Peter who stood before him—a young, good-looking man—with the guy Quade said had forty years of military experience. But if there was one thing Caden was learning in his time among the people of Sanctuary, it was to not judge a book by its cover.
“Thanks, I guess.” Caden put a hand on his hip. It was tender to the touch and he couldn’t help but wince.
Of course Quade saw it. “Let me see.”
Quade closed the distance between them.
“No, it’s fine.”
“Sweetheart, remember what happened when you couldn’t get the buttons of your shirt to work? I’m more than willing to do that with your pants if you don’t let me check you out. I would have no problem watching your ass as you walk through the compound and back to your place. I’m not sure how others would feel about it, though.”
Bastard. Caden grabbed the elastic of the sweatpants and pulled them down just far enough where Quade could see.
“Shit. If you were hurting that much, why didn’t you tell me?” He traced a finger over Caden’s leg. “These are going to be deep and nasty. We should take you to the infirmary so they can help with them.”
“A soldier fights through the pain.”
Seeing Quade’s hand clench, Caden worried what he was about to do.
He twisted his head so he could glare at Peter, a low rumble in his throat. “He’s not a fucking soldier! He shouldn’t be fighting in the first place.”
“Sometimes choices are taken out of our hands, Quade. You more than anyone knows that. Caden needs to know how to defend himself because you can’t always be there for him.”
The voice was softer, feminine.
“Jess?”
The dramatic change threw Caden. One second a gruff military man was berating Quade, and the next a woman’s voice—older, wearier—was coming from the same mouth. When Caden flicked his gaze in Quade’s direction, he saw such hope there.
