“Wow. So that’s what it feels like, you actually agreeing with me about something.” Hudson laughed. “You sure you don’t want to add a ‘but’?”
“I’m sure I’ll think of something later.”
“I don’t doubt that for a second.” Hudson’s fingers tightened slightly around his. “Now… will you please get that fine ass back to bed.”
Elliot sighed. Then he got up, put the chair back in place, and got into bed.
Hudson lay back and shifted to make room. He wrapped Elliot in his arms and kissed his temple, resting his head on Elliot’s. “This—” he began. “This is worth it to me.”
Elliot tightened his arms around Hudson and closed his eyes. Hudson turned quiet, and after a few minutes Elliot realized he had fallen asleep. He’d actually fallen asleep—in Elliot’s bed, with Elliot in his arms.
Elliot lay in the dark and listened to him breathe. “Me too,” he whispered into the dark. “Me too.”
Major Okafor ranhis briefings at 0730, which Elliot respected. No wasted mornings, no deferring the work. This was his second deployment with Okafor and the man was consistent about everything he did: from carrying his coffee around in the same battered thermos to thanking every staff member by name at the end of every rotation.
Elliot hadn't had a moment alone with him since the helicopter malfunction. Okafor had been busy merging the two task forces together and Elliot had been running point while he did.
Okafor had called Elliot in to brief him about the merge. There were intel reports to go over, perimeter patrol schedules and then there was the matter of the incident where Elliot very obviously lost his cool when he realized Hudson was in trouble.
“So,” Okafor started. “I take it you know Captain Hale well.”
He held Elliot’s gaze for what felt like minutes, waiting for him to answer.
“Yes, sir. We… Hale and I were at Selection together six years ago. We’re… friends.”
“I see.” Okafor jotted something down in the notebook before him. “And this friendship of yours. Is that going to be an issue?”
Elliot clenched his hands in his lap. “No, sir. No issue at all. I was just taken by surprise.”
“Good. Good. That’s all I need to know.” He turned to pull something from the shelf behind his desk, revealing a framed photograph in the process.
It was positioned between the field radio and a stack of binders, partially hidden behind them. In the photograph was Okafor, younger, in civilian clothes, laughing at something. Beside him was a man—shorter, broader, with a hand on Okafor’s shoulder. He was looking at Okafor instead of the camera and he had a genuine and very affectionate smile on his face. And in front of them both, three children in descending height, squinting into the bright sun.
Elliot stared at the photo.
His attention was pulled back to the table when Okafor cleared his throat. He was looking straight at Elliot. No apology in his eyes. No self-defense. He seemed… proud.
“My husband,” Okafor said. “Sam. And our kids—Jamie, Haley, and the small one destroying that flower bed is Jack. He’s six now.”
Elliot’s pen was still in his hand. He set it down. “I didn’t know you were married.”
“Been together eleven years. Married for nine."
“That’s a long time.” That was the best Elliot could do at the moment. His thoughts were spinning. Okafor had been married to a man for nine years. And here he was, sitting on a military base proudly displaying his love for everyone to see.
Okafor leaned back in his chair. His expression was open and unhurried. “My father told me not to bring thephoto on deployments. Said it was a liability, something people could use to get in my head.” He smiled. “I brought it anyway.”
Elliot studied the photograph again. Both men looked like they had every right to be exactly where they were.
“Do they? Use it against you, I mean?”
“Rarely. There are plenty of assholes out there—especially in the military—but it’s been all right. I don’t lead with it on deployments, but I don’t hide it either. Not anymore. I spent a long time deciding which of those felt worse.” He paused. “Hiding did.”
Elliot thought about the distance he had continuously put between him and Hudson. The constant low-level calculation running in his head—who was nearby, who might notice, what angle someone might be watching from. He’d been running that calculation since he was seventeen years old. He didn’t know how to stop.
“How did you decide?” Elliot asked. “That it was worth the risk.”
Okafor was quiet for a moment, turning his thermos slowly in his hands. Then he said, “I had a commanding officer once—good man, respected him enormously—who knew about Sam before I’d even told him. I’d barely admitted it to myself. He called me into his office one day and said, ‘Okafor, I’ve watched you carry other people’s expectations your entire career. At some point you have to ask yourself whose life you’re actually living.’ Or something close to that.” He set the thermos down. “Still took me a year to figure out what to do with it, but when I did…” He leaned back and exhaled loudly. “What a feeling.”
