Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 87078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Trav pats his back and says, “Hey, at least you made it through at all. I was low-key worried you wouldn’t.”
Saint’s head remains low.
“You still blitzed the course-required time,” I say and then curse myself for the encouragement.
Back in the day, Saint would be overly vocal about being unbeatable. Right now, it seems mean to do it back to him.
He slinks to the ground in defeat, trying to catch his breath, and I can’t help but feel sorry for the guy. I grab a water out of the cooler and uncap it for him.
He glances up at me with this shy half-smile. “Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?”
“Take pity on me.” Still, he sits up straighter and reaches for the water. He takes a sip and waves his hand at me. “Bring on the gloating. I can take it.”
“I dunno. I’m not really into kicking people when they’re down. Even if they’re the golden boy. I guess I’m more humble than you.”
A round of scoffs comes from the others.
“They obviously agree with me.”
“Just wait,” Saint says. “Once I’m back to one hundred percent, you’ll be eating my dust on that obstacle course.”
“Oh, I’m counting on it.”
“Let’s all head back to the house,” Trav says. “Tomorrow, we’ll go to the range.”
I hold out my hand to help pull Saint up.
He stares at it for a beat, and for a brief second, I think he’s not going to accept it, but with an almost imperceptible shake of his head, he takes it and stands. “Thanks.”
We all file into the three cars we brought out here and trek back to the ranch. The others go inside while Saint and I are left to get cleaned up in the outside bathroom.
It may have a toilet with a door and a lock, but the shower is one of those pool showers attached to the side of the house with a wooden frame for privacy.
“You can go first,” I say to him.
“Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“Being nice. This isn’t the Iris I know, and it’s freaking me out. Stop looking at me like I’m dying when I’m actually out of shape. You didn’t even look at me this pathetically when I was dying.”
I cock my head. “You remember when I was pulling you out?”
“It’s one of the few memories I do have. I was lying there wondering what the odds were that the fuckup from basic was the one saving me.” His lips twitch.
“Man, if I’d known it was you, I would’ve given you so much shit for it.”
Saint stares down at the ground. “Well, yeah, maybe if you’d done that, I wouldn’t be standing here now. I’ve spent the last few months rehabilitating myself because of the words you told me that night—that I need to live because you asked me to. Because … there was really no other reason for me to fight. You not only saved me, you gave me something to live for.”
And this turned serious fast. I don’t like it. Two serious conversations within twenty-four hours of each other should be illegal.
I rub my chin in mock thought. “In that case, I am going to take the first shower … indefinitely. If we’re ever paired on a mission, I get dibs on the best jobs. You buy my coffee. You take first shift. You—”
Saint bursts out laughing. “You can pretty much say whatever you want, and I’ll agree to it.”
I narrow my gaze. “Who are you, and what did you do with the Saint I know?”
The sadness in Saint’s eyes morphs into something cockier. “You might be more humble than me, but I guess I’ve evolved into a more decent person.”
“Uh-huh. I’m sure that’s it.”
He stares down at the ground again. “Seriously, though. I’ll be forever in your debt.”
Ugh. I don’t like that kind of pressure on me. “I hereby free you of any debt you feel you need to repay. Uh, minus the shower thing. I want to keep that.”
“Iris—”
“No, I mean it. We don’t keep score here. You can’t go into missions thinking you owe me or Atlas or any of the others who were in Udoola. Your sense of duty to me can affect rational thinking. If it came down to it where you had to choose between helping Angel or me, you can’t have my debt hanging over your head. You might choose wrong and get us all killed. So as much as I’d love for you to become my errand bitch, I can’t accept it. We’re even. Clean slate.”
Saint hesitates but relents. “Okay. Clean slate. Besides, I’d totally choose Angel over you anyway. She might not have been on the mission that saved me, but I get the feeling she’s the type of person who’d come back and haunt me if I let her die.”
“She totally is. She’s the scariest of us all.”