Than had already broken down over Mei. Fly hadn’t seen it, only heard it from Bear, pared down and sparse. So if this wasn’t about Mei…then it meant Than was carrying something else. Something he didn’t want Fly to see.
That thought hit harder than Fly expected.
Four years of living in each other’s pockets. Of shared Naval Academy stress and grind, then shared grief and shared silence. Than thought he could keep something like that from him?
That stung. Bad.
Fly didn’t let himself linger there. Hurt wasn’t useful. Understanding was.
He studied the man again. He radiated a kind of contained energy Fly recognized immediately, the kind that could wire a city without ever flipping a switch. Just quiet, lethal competence.
It intrigued him.
Fly had spent his whole life reading people, anticipating shifts before they happened. This was a man who invited truth without demanding it. That was rare. Dangerous. Possibly exactly what they needed.
Could Shawl help Fly with his own shit?
He had no idea.
But he knew one thing for certain.
If he didn’t ask, he’d never know, and that would be his own damn fault. He wasn’t one to run from his own truth. He was sad that Than thought he had to run. He hated that, and he hated thinking Bear was maybe right. They wanted to believe they were ready for BUD/S, and the training would be so grueling, it would take all their energy, but what if Fly was wrong? What if he was deluding himself into thinking that all that they had been through was just the tip of a huge iceberg? Fly squared his shoulders and stepped forward.
How about leading from the front?
“You have me at a disadvantage.” He glanced at Bear, who was watching Than disappear into the back country. “Bear is usually so on it, but he’s worried about his brother.” He reached out his hand. “I’m Flynn Gallagher.”
The man clasped his hand. “Shawl.”
“I’m assuming if Bear asked you to come down here, you’re part of his tribe. I apologize if that’s not right.”
“You’re not wrong.”
“I’m guessing you’re a head doctor,” Fly said, blunt as ever. “Shrink. Healer. Something in between.” His mouth tilted, not quite a smile. “If you talk to ghosts, we might qualify. Than and I are trying to keep our heads above water after Mei.”
“I don’t chase ghosts,” Shawl said. “I leave that up to the ghostbusters. They have the equipment. I help people live with what still speaks.” He nodded toward Fly. “What was the name of your sailing vessel?”
Fly frowned. What the hell did that have to do with anything? “Valor.”
“Ah, that’s a loaded word. Great courage in the face of danger, especially in battle.”
“I wasn’t in battle.”
“Weren’t you? You were the skipper, and you were in a competitive race, driven by an instructor who sounded like he was more interested in beating his brother than your safety.”
“I don’t assign blame. I did what I did, and I owned it.”
“Did you?” Shawl asked. “Valor was well named for your boat, Flynn. My question is simple. Can you live with it?”
Fly didn’t look away.
“If I can’t,” he said, steady and unembellished, “then I’ll be a goddamned shitty leader. I’ll fold under the weight of command, and I won’t have learned a damn thing from what happened to Mei.”
Shawl nodded once.
“That’s right,” he said. “You won’t have. But the fact that you know this already tells me something.” He stepped closer, not crowding, just present. “Sit with this for one day,” Shawl said. “Ask yourself what Mei would say to you if she were standing here now.” He let that land. “And whether you truly believe she would blame you.”
Than galloped away as the three men behind him gaped and came back an hour later.
