“God. We just got going.” Harper rolled his eyes. “Pansy.”
Zack took a swig of his water, but it tasted like copper and he barely choked it down. The pansy comment was hardly new—the guys on the team used insults like that all the time. The little digs they threw out at each other were every bit as uncomfortable as the gay jokes. But this one hurt more than most because he couldn’t tell how much hate Harper was putting behind the word. His tone was certainly more bitter than Zack had ever heard it.
“Let’s go. Want me to take point?”
“Sure. Don’t need you staring at my ass.” Harper waved him on.
“Wait. Maybe we should talk.” Zack’s stomach heaved again, but they couldn’t go on like this.
“Nothing to say. Haul ass, Nelson.” Harper turned away from him.
Fuck. Zack might never make this right again. They’d been friends once upon, leaning on each other to make it through BUD/S, celebrating together when they got their tridents. His worst fears were coming true. Fuck Cobb. And to top off, real pain continued to bloom in his lower gut, radiating up to his shoulder.
He pushed on, setting a faster pace to try to appease Harper. However, each step felt like wading through concrete, his muscles screaming.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” The pain in his side worsened, gut burning like he’d been shot. He pulled up short. Maybe he just needed to grab his breath, but he couldn’t go on.
“What the fuck, Nelson?”
“I’m...sick,” he admitted, each word costing him.
“Christ, really? You know what? Bring on the women on the teams. A girl would be better than you.”
“Sorry.” Zack tried to take a few steps forward, but his legs buckled. He turned sharply, reaching out to Harper.
“Fuck no. Don’t touch me. Is this some gay thing? Trying to get me to play doctor with you?” Each of Harper’s words sliced through Zack’s pain, creating fresh wounds.
“No. I...wouldn’t. Not...a come-on.” Zack’s words had to be forced out around this rising pain. “Sick.”
“And I said get moving. I don’t give a fuck if you’ve got the sniffles—”
“Harper,” Zack cried out as the pain reached a new, fresh level of hell. He fell to his knees, white blooming behind his eyes.
“Oh fuck. You’re not kidding me, are you?” For the first time, Harper seemed concerned, but it was too late. The pain was taking over and Zack collapsed into the muck, oblivion taking him. Pike. Oh fuck. Pike. What if he never saw him again? No. Not an option. Trying to summon the last dredges of his energy, he fought against the pain, but the pain was a brutal motherfucker and it was winning. He was vaguely aware of Harper bellowing into his headset about him being down and then...nothing.
Chapter Nineteen
Pike thumped his head against his desk. His latest quiz for Intro to Stats had yielded predictably dismal results. Thanks to Rosemary’s lead, more of the students had been seeking him out after class and for his office hours, and one-on-one he thought he was getting through to them, but as a whole, the class was still way underperforming. It was weird how much he cared about not flunking half the class. He had three pages of notes already for how he wanted to reorganize the class if he got the permanent job—new syllabus, new textbook, new activities. He wanted his students to get it right, wanted them to succeed, wanted more of those sparks of knowledge he could see when he worked with certain students.
Wait. What about some sort of bonus to bring their grades up for the students this term? Not from the book, but more of the real-world problems he’d been trying with Rosemary and the others? Setting aside the quiz grading, he turned to his office desktop, but he hadn’t done more than get the word processing program open when his cell phone rang.
Please don’t be Hector. Pike still hadn’t heard from Zack and it had been over a week. He was about to crawl out of his skin, and the last thing he needed was Hector pushing for an interview when he hadn’t had a chance to talk things over with Zack.
He looked down at the screen. Ryan. Huh. That was weird. Ryan had texted him maybe once or twice about game or party-related stuff, but they weren’t exactly close friends the way he was with Josiah.
“Hey, what’s up?” he answered the phone.
“Pike. Did I catch you at work?” Ryan’s voice was cautious, which set Pike’s skin prickling.
“Yeah, next class in an hour, but I’m just grading right now. You know how that goes.” Once a SEAL, Ryan was now a high-school teacher in Santa Monica.
“Endless.” Ryan’s laugh sounded forced. “Listen, buddy, could you do me a favor and shut your office door? I’ve got something I need to talk to you about.”