“Thank you, Peterson. It’s beautiful.” Cadet First Class Nicole Baxter—the Olympic caliber swimmer who harangued Ritch about his attire on I-Day—hugged him.
“I’m glad you like it. I… I…” Ritch did not stutter often, but around the statuesque woman, he frequently found himself tongue-tied. “Not sure if you remember, but you made a big impression on I-Day. And since then, you’ve always encouraged me whenever we’ve ended up working together.”
Baxter laughed and placed a hand on Ritch’s sh