“Hell, dude, don’t hold back. Just say what you’re thinking.”
“It’s eighty-three degrees out here, hot for Santa Barbara, and you’re running along the beach. Not even running down by the water. You’re running up here, where the sand makes each step twice as hard.”
“Wow. The man knows physics.”
“And you’re not barefoot or wearing running shoes. You’re wearing combat boots.”
“Jeez. I am? I didn’t notice.”
Chay glowered at Tanner.
“Didn’t you ever hear the saying ‘Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun’?”
“I am a lot of things, but I am neither rabid nor English, and you seem a little confused about the time. It’s seven a.m., nowhere near noon.”
“It’s almost eight, and that’s not the point.”
Tanner thought about arguing, but what good would it do?
“Okay. I get the message. ”
“I don’t think so. You know what the docs say. Don’t push.”
A muscle bunched in Tanner’s jaw. “It’s great advice, dude. You should take it.”
Chay folded his arms over his chest. “Don’t be an idiot, Akecheta. I’m right, and you know it.”
“Don’t you ever get tired of being right?”
Chay’s mouth twitched. “Can’t say as I do.”
Tanner sighed. Then he reached for the canteen again and gulped down more water. “ I know you mean well.”
“You’re still in recovery.”
Tanner got to his feet. His calf felt as if somebody was digging into it with a hot poker and he cursed and rocked back on his heels. Chay rose quickly, reached out as if to grab his friend’s arm, but didn’t. After a couple of seconds, Tanner looked at him.
“Here’s the thing,” he said quietly. “I have one month left to get past this. That’s four weeks. Thirty days. After that—”
“You will get better.” Chay paused. “But just in case… What’s wrong with becoming an instructor for STUD? You’d be great at it.”
“Maybe I’ll become an instructor in ten years. Right now, I’m not even thirty. I can’t see myself behind a desk.”
“A lectern.”
“Jesus Christ, Olivieri…”
Tanner stopped in midsentence. How could he be angry with this man? They had grown up together. Survived crap childhoods together, played high school football together and, against all odds, not only won scholarships to the same university but graduated together, gone into the teams together, been recruited for STUD together.
Chay was more than his oldest friend. He was the closest thing Tanner had to family. To a brother. And Tanner knew that what Chay felt was a brother’s concern.
> “I’m okay,” he said quietly. “I mean, I have to do this. You know?”
Chay drew a long breath, then let it out. “Yeah. I know.”
Tanner smiled. Punched him lightly in the shoulder. “So, were you out for a stroll? Or did you come looking for me?”
“Actually, I was looking for you.”