“Alex said he’d be here at seven and now its seven thirty. Where is he?” Jorden assumed anyone in the military would be on time.

The phone rang. Jorden answered it. She could hear Alex’s voice in the background.

“Jorden. Are you there? I’ve got a disaster going on with the troops. I’ll be late. Sorry. I’ll call you back.” Alex’s voice faded out. She could hear yelling in the background—words not to be repeated before he hung up. Two hours later, there was still no word from Alex. She fumed. “Looks like I’ve been stood up.” Irritated, Jorden decided to change into her sweatshirt and jeans.

At nine thirty the phone rang, startling Jorden. Didn’t he know this was a school night?

“I’m on my way. Be there in fifteen minutes,” Alex stated and hung up.

“How dare him.” He didn’t give me a chance to say a word. It was late; Madison had already retreated to her room. The doorbell rang at nine forty-five. Jorden stood still, thinking about what she would do. It rang again. She looked out the peephole, and there was Alex in his Army fatigues. She relented and opened the door.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t let me in, but I wanted to explain in person.” His fatigues were rumpled and stained with smudges appearing to look like blood.

Jorden’s eyes widened as she surveyed his condition. “You’re a mess! Have you been in a fight?”

“Sort of. It’s a long story.”

Jorden’s features softened. His rugged appearance did have a certain raw appeal.

“Do you have time for a short ride?” Alex asked. “I know it’s late, but I’d like to explain.”

Jorden looked at her watch. “It’s almost ten.”

“You’re right. I’ll leave.” Alex turned to go.

“Wait. I’ll get my coat.” A slight smile lifted her face.

During the next hour, Alex did most of the talking. “Tonight a bad fight broke out in the barracks. Two officer candidates got into a knock-down blowout over a woman. Mayhem broke loose.”

“And?”

“I had to step in. It’s my job to lead these men. In this case, thirty-two of them. It was bad. All of the men had to be disciplined. I ordered a low-crawl—five times each way up and down the barrack’s hallway.”

“How awful.” Jorden studied Alex’s face. The creases tightened around his mouth. She sensed this was not easy for him to talk about.

“One of the candidates, Ben, a nice guy, but on the chunky side has trouble with physical challenges. The low-crawl is hard to do and, for him, almost impossible. His belly dragged along the floor, holding him back. It took more strength than he had. Some of the candidates had to go around him. In their frenzy, a few plowed over him.”