The words were careful.
Than felt them settle into his chest and sit there.
Bear exchanged a look with Chayton.
Then Chayton smiled, easy and deliberate. “Why don’t we take a breather and go watch the sunset on the water, my love?”
Than’s mother studied him for another moment, her mouth softening even as worry lingered in her eyes. She nodded and let Chay lead her away, her hand trailing briefly along Than’s shoulder before she went.
The room shifted when they were gone.
Than set his fork down. He didn’t look up right away. When he did, Bear was watching him.
She’s not wrong,” Bear said quietly.
“Maybe,” Than said. “But it’s not her decision.” He leaned back in his chair, the weight pressing harder now.
“Little brother,” Bear said gently, “BUD/S is grueling when a man is healthy.”
“But if I wait because I’m hurting,” Than went on, “then I’m letting the pain decide for me.”
Bear nodded once. “That’s the difference.”
Than closed his eyes briefly. Mei rose unbidden, her steady gaze, the quiet way she watched the world, the certainty she carried without needing to announce it.
“She wouldn’t want me to postpone a damn thing,” Than said.
“No,” Bear agreed.
“She wouldn’t want me to run either.”
“No.”
Than opened his eyes. “I’ve wanted this since high school. Since before that, when I saw what you do.” His voice tightened. “I can’t turn away from it now. It burns in my blood. It’s defining me through this path.” He exhaled. “I loved her. I’m devastated. But I don’t know.”
“You don’t have to decide right now,” Bear said.
“I don’t want to postpone because it hurts.” Than drew a hard breath. “I’m afraid if I wait, I’ll never go, and I know I’d regret that forever.”
The truth settled where it belonged.
Bear reached out and squeezed his forearm. “If you decide to go, come to Bonita. Stay with me. Fly too. We’ve redone the whole place. You haven’t seen it yet.”
They sat there in the quiet that followed, the choice resting between them.
Outside, the light was changing.
Than didn’t reach for an answer. He just sat with it.
The gallery doors stood open, light spilling out onto the sidewalk like an invitation.
Fly stepped inside with Than at his side. The space was fuller than he’d expected but not crowded. People moved slowly, voices kept low, the way they did when instinct told them this wasn’t a place for noise. The air smelled faintly of fresh paint and salt, the sea close enough to be felt even here.
They followed the quiet flow toward the central hall.
Fly stopped short.
Above the main wall, suspended in deliberate symmetry, hung the three whale paintings from the fundraiser. Massive. Commanding. The scale of them demanded stillness. Each canvas captured a feature of the behemoth, power contained rather than displayed. Sunlight fractured across dark skin, ridges, and fluke. An eye watched from shadow, ancient and unblinking.
