Falling for Ezra Thomas (Life With the Thomas Brothers #4)

16. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

Ezra

I'm positive no person in history has ever been totally fine with getting sprayed in the face with chemicals meant to render them fully incapacitated, but here we are, waiting patiently for our turn to be tortured. On the plus side, if I survive the terrible, burning pain, then I can write home about it. On the downside, it might take a few hours for me to see straight again. While we wait and the guys chat, my mind drifts back to the letter I got from Lorelai this morning.

Dear Ezra,

How are you doing? I got a little bored at the cabin and invited Vivien up. She and the girls, Luna included, came up to the cabin for a girls’ night. I know you want all the juicy details about Luna, but I promised I wouldn’t tell. I will say this, I don’t think her story with Rafe is over so pray for them.

On another note, Vivien is trying to convince me to talk to your father about the ins and outs of opening my own clinic. I’m not sold on the idea, honestly. I’m still not sure I’m meant to practice medicine. To tell the truth, the slower pace of the past couple of weeks here at the cabin has been nice. Still, I know I can’t do this forever and will need to find something career-wise.

What do you think? I’m seeking opinions from everyone at this point. I’m heading back to my apartment tomorrow, but your mom said I could use the cabin anytime I want, so I might head back up here in a week or two if I haven’t found work. She also said I could help her around the bakery, so there’s that. At least I’ll be able to pay rent.

How are things going for you? I’m happy you’ve made some friends. Tell me more about this Masterson guy. I’m a sucker for a good love story, so I want to hear it!

It still feels a little strange to hand write letters to you. I know so much about you already, I’m not sure what to ask. I’m starting to understand why Vivien and Beck had such a whirlwind romance. On the one hand, going from friendship to dating is definitely a different sort of relationship, but on the other hand, you get to skip all the awkward getting to know you stuff. I’m sure there are plenty of things we don’t know, but I’m not sure what they might be.

“Thomas! Masterson! Olson!” Sargeant Sanderson shouting my name yanks me back to reality. Masterson is behind me while Olson is in front, but none of us want to do this. Since we don’t have a choice, we step forward and get into position to be OC sprayed.

Olson nudges me and dips his head. “We got this. Ain’t nothin’ but a little pain.”

Terrible burning pain, but I guess he’s right.

I shake out my arms and try to prepare myself for the next part of our training. Olson encourages Masterson, and I notice no one else is doing this. No one else seems to care if their friends are ready for this deliberate onslaught of pain, so I wonder if we’re doing something wrong. Should we be supporting one another, or paying attention to ourselves?

It doesn’t matter. It’s too late to consider it further. We’re ordered into a line that faces another soldier, and he blasts us all directly in the face with the spray. For some reason, I shift to the right and almost trip, but catch myself. Immediately, I regret every decision I’ve ever made in my entire life, including joining the Army. Why did I think I was a big boy ready to march and fire a weapon? Nope, I can’t even take a little burning to the face like a man.

“Oh, dear heavens,” I grumble and bend over so the copious snot pouring from my nose has somewhere to go besides down my blouse. There’s a lot of coughing, but I can’t see Olson or Masterson through the tears draining from my eyes.

“Go to the eyewash stations,” we’re ordered, but darned if I even know where they are at this point.

An arm links with mine and I realize Olson is powering through it, seemingly without behaving like a child. Blinking only makes it worse, but I manage to feel my way to the water station where someone dribbles soap in my hand. I hope its soap.

Vigorous scrubbing and rinsing eventually clears the spray from my eyes and nose, but the burn lingers. When I can finally see, Olson is laughing and nudges Masterson. The two act like it’s just another day hanging out.

“What the—how is your skin not on fire?” I ask.

“Dude, you got the brunt of it. You legit moved in front of us just as they sprayed it. We only got a dab,” Masterson says.

“Way to look out,” Olson adds.

“I’m pretty sure all I did was trip, but you’re welcome.” I continue scrubbing my face, thinking about that moment. I shifted to my right…toward my wingman…right where Beck always was on the ice, having my back. Only this time, the scenario was reversed. Rather than them having my back, I literally took the hit. Instinct, or maybe just a good hockey coach, has me so set in my movements I have literally gotten myself sprayed in the face with lava for my friends.

Who knows if that will get me into trouble or not. Maybe no one noticed, and I can get by without our drill instructor chewing me out for getting in the way.

“Thomas!” Drill instructor shouts. Ah, shoot. I’m in trouble. “Olson! Masterson!”

Well, maybe not in too much trouble if he wants all three of us.

We dry our faces, ignore the burn, and jog over to where our Drill Instructor stands in the shade of a perfectly pitched tent, upwind of the spray.

“Yes, sir,” we shout and stand at attention.

“At ease. That was good teamwork out there. Thomas, why did you step in front of your comrades?”

“Sir, I don’t know, sir,” I admit. I’m not entirely sure. I think it’s because I’m used to Beck’s presence right there, but I have a feeling explaining that to a man who’s been shot at and laughed will not go over well.

“Olson, Masterson, I like to see men step up and aid their…shall we say fallen comrades. You have the remainder of the day for liberty. Keep it up. Dismissed.”

Without further explanation, we’re sent on our way. Halfway across the field, Olson stops. “Wait, did he just give us the rest of the day off? In basic training?”

Masterson shrugs. “I think so. I’m not complaining. I need a nap.”

“What you need to do is share those cookies you’ve been hiding.” Olson glares at him, but Masterson only shrugs.

Meanwhile, I glance over my shoulder and find Sargeant Sanderson still watching us, conversing with two other men. I don’t know what it means, so I avert my gaze and pay attention to what’s in front of us. I feel as if we missed something, like we’re the brunt of some joke we didn’t even hear, but I can’t piece together why that is. Instead of trying, I follow the guys into our tent and fall onto my cot. I’m exhausted, my skin hurts, and I need more sleep.

Masterson rummages under his bunk and pulls out his hidden cookie stash. “Don’t tell anyone where I hid them, or I won’t give you any more.”

Olson is all too willing to comply and snatches two cookies from the tin. He offers me one but I wave him off. The cookies are good, don’t get me wrong, but consuming baked goods only makes me miss home.

“What do you think that weird thing with Sarge was about?” I ask.

Olson shrugs. “Life experience tells me we’ll find out soon enough, but I can’t figure out if that’s good or not. The military ain’t as easy to read as regular people.”

Masterson gives him a questioning glance and finally asks what we’ve all wanted to. “What’s your story? How’d you end up here?”

Olson chews his cookie slow and steady all while he stares down Masterson like he’s sizing him up, trying to decide if he can trust this man with his past. Whatever it is, still haunts him. The storm clouds rolled into his gray eyes before the question even entered the air between us, and his shoulders tensed. He swallows and puts half the cookie on a tissue and cracks his knuckles.

Masterson glances my way, probably regretting asking Olson anything, let alone about his story. There’s no denying he’s older than us. Masterson is only nineteen, and I’m twenty-two, but Olson? He’s got a few more years on us. Not that he’s old, but he’s definitely seen more than we have, and his choice to join the Army now is interesting.

Olson clears his throat and looks over his shoulder. “If I tell you, it don’t leave this barracks, got me?”

I sit up on my bed and drape my feet over onto the floor. Masterson leans in, because there’s no doubt this is a good story. I’m just not expecting it when Olson says, “I died, and when it didn’t stick, I figured the least I could do to repay God for saving my sorry behind would be to defend other people. So here I am.”

Once he’s finished, he picks up his cookie and finishes it.

“Wait, that’s…that’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?” Masterson asks, his gaze frantically bouncing between Olson and me.

“Didn’t figure you’d care about much more.” Olson shrugs and wipes his hands on his pants.

“Uh, no dude, I do.”

Olson chuckles at Masterson’s goofy expression and gives in.

“I got myself in a lot of trouble when I was your age, just never got caught. Spent my time with a lot of bad people. That all turned around about two years ago when I got shot, coded on the operating table, and somehow made it back to God’s green earth, probably only because my mama wouldn’t stop praying over my wretched soul. I went to therapy, got new friends, and a medical waiver to join the Army. Now here I am.”

“How old are you?” I ask, disregarding everything my parents taught me about manners.

“Thirty, and I’m still making better time in training than you two squirts.” Olson laughs and eats the other cookie. “Enough about me. Tell us about your girl back in Savannah. Must be something special to get you smiling like a fool whenever she sends you a letter.”

Masterson blushes and dips his head. “Yeah, she’s pretty great.”

He dives into the story of how he and Delilah met, and all the while all I can think about is Lorelai. We’ve shared a lot over the years, enough to make any relationship strong, and I think it means we have a great foundation. Beck and Vivien are proof of that, but that doesn’t mean all good things come in twos.

I lay back down and stare at the rack overhead, listening to my friend spill the details of his childhood and how he fell in love with a feisty Greek girl in his biology class. And I think maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ve found a woman just as amazing and one of a kind as Delilah, and I can’t wait to get home and pick up where we left off.