When he got back to the cabin, he saw that the small dining table was set, with their dinners laid out. Linda was still in her bathrobe, her hair up as she sat in one of the chairs, waiting for him.
“Your timing’s impressive. They left like, two minutes ago.”
“Good.” Brutus closed the door behind him. Crossing the room he reached out a hand, and when Linda took it he pulled her up, looking into her beautiful dark eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
“For?”
“For not understanding. For not trying to understand why you’d accept the job you do,” he said. “For being so… accepting of getting shot. Linda, the past few days have been hell for me. Minicamp was shit knowing that you might be in danger.”
“You know why I couldn’t tell you,” she said, and he nodded.
“I know. I just… getting my mission cherry popped isn’t very much fun.”
Linda smiled. “You’ve definitely been talking to Sabby I see.”
“She’s weird.”
Linda laughed, nodding. “But fun, in small doses.”
“And she was the one who texted me, telling me you’d be back today.” Brutus shrugged his shoulders. “So I’ll accept her weirdness. Linda, the reason it sucked is because I’ve never been in this position before.”
“You mean being the one in the relationship who has to worry about the health and safety of the other?” Linda asked.
Brutus nodded.
“I’ve spent a lot of time the past few weeks thinking about it. How I’m going to face four months of you putting your health and life on the line every Sunday.”
“Could be Monday or Thursday,” Brutus pointed out, trying to keep it light.
Linda frowned. “I know. And I won’t say I haven’t been greedy in the past. I’ve never tried to understand what my ex-girlfriends might think about the dangers of football. I’ve just accepted it, and if they couldn’t accept it, there was the door. Don’t let it hit you in the ass on the way out, you know?”
“I’ve heard it a few times.”
“And now the shoe’s on the other foot. The idea that you could get hurt on a mission scares the shit out of me. And I don’t want to walk out the door, or to see you walk out the door. At the same time, I don’t want to lose the woman I care about.”
Linda reached up, cupping his cheek. “I understand. But I’m a soldier, Brutus. It’s who I am, who I want to be. And while this mission might have been just a stopgap measure, a temporary ding in the cartel’s operations, I’ve had enough missions where I know I’ve made a difference. Even if it’s just to save a few people, I’ve made a difference. That’s worth a bruised tit.”
Brutus nodded, and swallowed. “I don’t quite understand Linda… but I promise you, I want to try.”
“That’s a start,” Linda assured him. “Now, if you want to really start, I could use a little pampering from my boyfriend… if you want to try.”
17
LINDA
Stretching out on the bed, Linda felt pampered as Brutus picked up the bottle of massage oil, uncapping it and inhaling the scent. "This'll do."
"You know what you're doing?" she asked him.
Brutus smiled.
"Really?"
"I've been getting sports massages since I was thirteen years old," Brutus said, "and the team has two therapists on staff in addition to beds and massage chairs. But this isn't one of those. I promise."
She nodded, laying her head back on the pillow as Brutus climbed onto the bed. He was stripped to the waist, wearing just his boxers as he picked up her foot and started his massage.
