Elliot searched for the right words to say, but nothing came up.
Okafor continued, “I acknowledge that certaincircumstances can complicate matters further.” His voice was even, but the implications were unmistakable. “Make it harder to allow yourself to have what other people don’t have to think twice about.”
“It can,” Elliot said. He could have saidI don't know what you’re talking aboutorI wouldn't know.But he didn’t. He didn’t feel like hiding anymore. The words sat between them, unadorned and more than he’d said out loud to anyone in uniform in his entire career. Except for Hudson.
Okafor nodded slowly, like Elliot had confirmed something he’d already known. He didn’t make it a thing. Didn’t shift in his chair or soften his voice or do anything that would have made Elliot want to take it back. He nodded, and moved on.
“Here’s what I know,” Okafor said. “We spend so much time on this job putting the mission first, the unit first. And that’s right—that’s what we signed up for. But there’s a version of that thinking that bleeds into everything else until you’re putting yourself last in your own life too. And that—” his gaze shifted to the photograph “—that I’m not willing to do.”
Elliot’s eyes focused on Sam’s hand on Okafor’s shoulder.
“Does it get easier?” Elliot asked.
Okafor considered it honestly. “Slowly. You realize that the people around you who matter tend to surprise you, in a good way. And the ones who don't come around—you find out they didn't matter as much as you thought.”
Elliot thought about his father’s face during their last conversation. Indifferent. Elliot hadn't told him his biggest secret, but he had said enough—and his father had his phone out before Elliot even finished. “And if the person who doesn't come around is someone you’ve spent your whole life trying to prove something to?”
Okafor held his gaze. “Then maybe,” he said, “you get to stop trying.”
The room was so silent that Elliot could hear his own heart beating. The blood rushing in his ears.
“I have a…” He stopped. Took a deep breath. Then tried again. “There’s someone.”
Okafor’s lips pulled up a fraction. “I figured.”
“Right.” Elliot exhaled slowly through his nose. “I’m sorry. I know that might cause problems for us. You.”
“Only if I make it one.” Okafor met his eyes. “And I’m not going to.”
Elliot waited for the familiar weight of exposure, the instinct to contain everything. It didn’t come. The pressure had changed—like someone opening a window in a confined space.
Someone in his chain of command knew. A man he respected, who had eleven years and three kids and a photograph on his shelf. And the world had not ended.
“Thank you, sir,” Elliot said.
Okafor waved a hand, already opening the intel folder. “Northern perimeter schedule. I need your assessment by noon.”
“Roger, sir. You’ll have it.”
“Good.” He gave Elliot a firm nod. “You’re dismissed.”
Elliot stood, gathered his notes, and walked out into the bright Syrian heat.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
HUDSON
Hudson knewpatience wasn’t his strong suit. Taylor had been telling him that his entire life. It was undeniable and occasionally inconvenient.
But ten days of no flight ops with nothing to do but watch other people work had pushed him to a new personal frontier of insufferable. At least he was self-aware enough to recognize it.
He’d reorganized his gear twice. Done more pull-ups than was probably advisable on a wrist that was technically still healing. Helped three different people with tasks even if they hadn’t technically asked for it. Read the same three pages of the same book four times without retaining a single word.
Elliot shot him a look—the one that saidyou are testing the absolute limits of my patience—for the sixth time today. Hudson found it deeply attractive, which was not helping anyone.
“You don’t have to walk me to work,” Elliot said, without looking at him.
“I’m not walking you to work. I just happen to be going in the same direction.”
