Bear’s throat tightened. “I don’t know if I’d recognize it anymore.”
They sat in silence for a while. The only sounds were the crickets and the occasional low strum of Chayton’s guitar from inside.
Finally, Ray said, “Ayla would’ve been proud of you. Both of you boys. She had your stubbornness.”
Bear’s hands stilled on the railing. “Where would she be now, if she hadn’t been taken?”
Ray exhaled smoke, the ember flaring red. “Somewhere raising her own hell, probably. But the world took her, and the Creator left you here to make something of the loss. Don’t waste it.”
Bear turned that over, the ache of her absence older than any scar. “I’m trying. Some days it feels like I’ve been doing penance instead of living.”
Ray’s eyes shifted toward him, sharp even in the dim. “Penance doesn’t serve anyone. You remember what Zorro told you after that first op?”
Bear gave a short, tired laugh. “To stop carrying ghosts that didn’t ask to be carried.”
Ray smiled faintly. “Maybe it’s time to listen.”
Before Bear could answer, the screen door creaked and Nathaniel stepped onto the porch, barefoot, still wearing his graduation medal.
“You two look like you’re fixing the world out here,” he said, dropping onto the railing.
Bear watched him, saw the same fire he’d seen in Flynn Gallagher, the kind that burned too bright to stay contained.
“Just talking about the past,” Bear said.
Than leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Good. I’ve been thinking about the future.”
Ray chuckled. “Here it comes.”
“I want to be a SEAL,” Nathaniel said simply.
The words hung there, bold, certain, inevitable.
Bear’s breath left him slowly. The kid’s determination didn’t surprise him. It scared him. Yet somewhere beneath the worry came a pull of recognition. Flynn’s face flashed in his mind, the same spark, the same hunger.
“Before you decide what you think of my career path, I want to say something important. I need you to listen, ’cause I know it’s going to be hard.” Nathaniel shifted, the wind catching the ends of his long hair. “I got everything you didn’t. Mom, things that kids need, things they just want. I got all of that because of you. Whether you like it or not, it’s made an impact on me. I’m grateful, Dakota. Humbled by your sacrifice, because it gave me this amazing childhood.”
“Than—”
“No, let me finish.” He stepped closer, voice steadying. “Everything I am is because of you, Grandfather Ray, the Lakota, and Mom. I want to do something that gives back. I want to challenge myself, be limitless. Use everything I’ve learned, everything you all taught me.” His voice broke. “Leaving home, cutting my hair, facing things I don’t understand…I know I’m naive about the world beyond the rez. But that only pushes me harder. That sense of purpose can only be fulfilled one way. The SEAL way.”
Bear leaned back, eyes on the dark fields beyond the porch. “It’s not an easy road.” His brother was right. It would be culture shock. Bear remembered it well, the strange looks, the difference in how people treated him, his own naivete about the world. He could help ease Than into it before the strife and struggle of BUD/S hit.
“Wouldn’t want it if it was,” Nathaniel shot back, and Ray’s quiet laugh rolled through the air like approval.
Bear felt the weight of his own silence, the truth he’d been avoiding. Isolation hadn’t served anyone, not the team, not Flynn, not his brother, not Bailee.
He nodded once, a decision settling inside him. “All right. If you’re serious, you’ll come back with me to Coronado. I’ll train you.”
Nathaniel’s grin was pure joy. “You mean it?”
Bear’s mouth curved. “I don’t say what I don’t mean.”
Ray puffed his pipe, the faint glow painting his face in amber light. “Seems the line keeps holding,” he said softly. “That’s all any of us can ask.”
“Ah, Dakota?”
“Yeah?”
