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

18. Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

Ezra

“I don’t hear anyone grumbling,” Sargeant says. “Can I take that to mean you can go another five miles without complaint?”

This is a trick question and everyone knows it. It doesn’t matter whether we grumble and complain or run like good soldiers with our mouths shut, we’re running another five miles. Now, whether we do it with a rucksack or not is dependent on the level of complaining.

Without another word, we ready ourselves for more running. Masterson, Olson, and I have become our own support system, challenging one another and urging each other on when none of us has much left to give.

The ground is sopping wet and rain pummels us, but there’s something invigorating about it all. I’ve passed the point of exhaustion more than once and powered on, proving that I can push myself to the limit and then some. Masterson chuckles at the misery. It’s child’s play to him now, and after weeks by his side, I’m almost ready to laugh about it too.

Thinking about Lorelai while I run helps, and there’s so much to think about. Masterson talks about marrying his high school sweetheart all the time, and with each passing day, he’s managed to convince me that it might not be a bad idea to throw going slow out the window and go all in with Lorelai. He has a million reasons why moving so fast isn’t a bad thing, while Olson throws hundreds of reasons why it might be. And after Olson pops off, Masterson goes round for round with him until even the jaded thirty-year-old agrees.

I want to marry Lorelai Mays.

Who knows when that certainty became my reality, but it’s true. It is fast. It is reckless. There is also a high probability she might shoot me down a few times before she finally says yes, but I’m nothing if not a persistent Thomas.

“Masterson, Thomas, and Olson, front and center!” Sargeant calls us apart from the group once again and I try not to let worry fill me before detouring and crossing the field to where he waits.

“Yes, sir!” we shout in unison once we reach him.

“In my office. Now.” He walks away without any further information, so we share glances and follow him.

We’re covered with mud and soaked to the bone, praying that we’re not about to get our butts chewed out for something we did wrong—not that I can think of a single thing. I do what I’m told, when I’m told, and don’t complain out loud about any of it. Unless he can read my mind, there’s nothing to hold against me. Except maybe the habit we three have made of sticking together and pushing each other to the limit.

Inside his office, we dribble all over the floor. He tosses us a few towels and sits behind his desk.

“At ease.” Once he sits back, we relax and dry off. “I want you three to know I’ve been watching you. I like how you support one another and push each other. It shows real camaraderie. You don’t complain. You do the work.”

He leans forward and steeples his hands. My fingers tremble. I can’t figure out whether he’s angry with us or not. His words are encouraging, but he sure sounds angry as all get out while he’s saying them.

“In short, when the Ranger recruiters show up, I think you three should heavily consider applying.”

Silence fills the office as we glance at one another.

Olson clears his throat. “Permission to speak, Sergeant?”

“Granted.”

“Ain’t I a bit old for Ranger school, sir?”

“That’s for RASP to decide. I’m merely saying I think you three have what it takes to be Army Rangers. A lot of people come to this camp thinking they’re special and have what it takes to exceed in special operations, but they don’t. You three walk in here like a bunch of doofuses and blow everyone else out of the water. And you’re humble about it. You take care of each other.”

“So…you mean…you think we could be Rangers?” Masterson asks.

“That’s what I said. I can’t promise you anything, but when you finish basic training and AIT, you have a chance at going Ranger. It’s hard, ain’t gonna lie about that, but of the recruits I’ve been sent this go around, you three are the only ones I’d even consider.”

“Wow,” is all I can say. Never in a million years would I have considered such a thing, and now here a man sits telling me I might have a chance? “I’m…honored.”

Despite his grouchy demeanor, Sargeant smiles. “Well, think about it and get out of my office. You’re getting the floor wet.” He stands and dismisses us.

Since we’re not sure what to do without direct orders, we head back outside to finish the run. Buckler and the others look our way from time to time, but we say nothing. Sargeant didn’t say we couldn’t talk about it, but there’s a sort of unspoken agreement between the three of us.

Once training is done for the day and we’ve hit the showers, I lay on my rack and think about the meeting. When I joined the Army, I never once considered anything more than being a soldier, doing what I was told to the best of my ability. And now, this opportunity sits in my lap. Well, not exactly. It was a suggestion to apply, but what if I do and…I get it?

“What are you thinking about?” Masterson asks. He doesn’t give details with the other guys in the room, but I know he’s thinking about the same thing I am.

“That life can be strange sometimes. You?”

“Same thing, really. I’m still going to propose to Delilah. I’ll tell her about the thing and see what she thinks. It’s definitely a conversation I need to have with her before making a decision.”

Olson is already asleep. He’s not concerned about who might be impacted by his decision, and I get it. He’s doing what’s right for him and doesn’t need to consider other things, but Masterson and I do. I hope. I mean, I don’t want to make this decision without input from my family this time, and especially not without talking to Lorelai.

“Yeah, you’re right.” I sigh and roll on my side to grab my stationery and a pen. Unfortunately, Buckler’s constant complaining during the run lost us phone privileges, which we had all been looking forward to. I’ll have to write Lorelai a letter—not exactly the way I want to tell her about this, but I need to get the ball rolling. It’s a lot to consider. With that in mind, I hand Masterson a sheet of paper for him to do the same. It’s going to be a long night of thinking.