Derek stepped closer.
“You some Marine?”
“No.”
“Army?”
“No.”
One of the older men near the lockers had been staring at Cole for almost
a minute.
He was a purple belt named Anthony.
Quiet guy.
Late forties.
I knew he had served years ago because he sometimes wore an old Navy sweatshirt.
Anthony narrowed his eyes.
Then he looked at Cole’s forearm.
Cole’s rash guard had shifted slightly during the scramble.
A small tattoo showed near his wrist.
Anthony’s face changed.
“Jesus.”
Everyone looked at him.
Derek frowned.
“What?”
Anthony ignored him.
His eyes stayed on Cole.
“You stationed in Coronado?”
Cole glanced at him.
“Sometimes.”
Anthony slowly stood.
“You’re Naval Special Warfare?”
Derek laughed.
“Oh, come on.”
Anthony didn’t laugh.
He had gone pale.
Cole pulled his sleeve back into place.
“That doesn’t matter.”
But it did.
The gym exploded into whispers.
“Wait, what?”
“Special Warfare?”
“Is he a SEAL?”
“No way.”
I closed my eyes briefly.
Cole hated this.
He had never once introduced himself by his job.
Our mother kept one
made him uncomfortable.
Derek looked around at the students.
Then back at Cole.
For the first time, uncertainty flickered in his face.
“You a SEAL?”
Cole exhaled.
“I’m Sarah’s brother.”
That was all he gave him.
But Anthony was already nodding.
“I knew it.”
Derek’s uncertainty turned to anger.
People like Derek couldn’t tolerate being afraid.
Fear became aggression.
Aggression became stupidity.
“So what?” Derek said.
He laughed loudly.
“You shoot guns for a living. That doesn’t make you a black belt.”
Cole gave him an almost tired look.
“You’re right.”
“Then finish the round.”
“Derek,” Mark said sharply.
“No.”
Derek pointed at Cole.
“He came onto my mat and challenged me.”
“You challenged him,” someone from the wall said.
Every head turned.
It was Jason, a white belt who had joined three weeks earlier.
Derek stared at
him.
Jason looked down.
But the words had already escaped.
Then another student spoke.
“He’s right.”
That came from Melissa, one of the women I trained with.
