Chapter 4 #2
“Gallagher! You still owe me a rematch in the ring,” a 2/C called, jogging by with a grin.
Fly lifted a hand. “Anytime, Boyd. But you’re bringing the ice packs this round.”
Boyd laughed and kept running.
Two plebes from his company straightened as he passed.
“Evening, sir!” Both spoke at once, too loud, too eager.
Fly slowed enough to give them a real look. “Carry on, gents, and hydrate. You look like raisins.”
They flushed and stumbled over their thanks as he moved on.
A pair of female mids stepped onto the walkway, books hugged to their chests. One nudged the other.
“Fly!” Jessica called, a beautiful blonde right up his alley, her eyes brightening the second they landed on him. The attraction between them sparked, quick and easy.
“We start the capstone presentation at zero-eight tomorrow! You ready?”
He gave her a mock grimace. “Absolutely not. That’s why I’ll nail it.”
They laughed, rolling their eyes as if they’d expected nothing less. Jessica lingered a step behind her friend, then drifted casually into pace beside him.
“What are we doing after?” she asked, voice low and playful.
Fly slipped an arm around her shoulders with an ease born of confidence.
“Anything you want, Jess.”
She smiled up at him. “I have a couple things in mind.”
“Don’t wear me out. I have a race coming up.”
She bumped his hip, teasing. “How about I give you a run for your money.”
Fly grinned. “Looking forward to it.”
Jessica flashed him one last heated look before jogging to catch up with her friend, who shot her an envious glance that wasn’t subtle at all.
Fly kept walking, amused. Attention came easy. Always had. But it didn’t touch him the way it once did. Not the way the quiet bond with Mei and Than did.
Closer to the sailing center, a group from the offshore team lounged by the rigging crates. One of them cupped his hands to his mouth.
“Gallagher! Tell me you’re not steering Valor tomorrow. I like winning.”
Fly shot him a look over his shoulder. “You should’ve picked a safer boat.”
The group groaned dramatically while one shouted, “Cocky bastard!”
Fly grinned. “Truth hurts.”
A secondie, slang for a second-class midshipman, leaned out of the shed door. “Hey, Gallagher! Heard you aced Silverman’s final. We lighting candles for you or for the rest of us who didn’t?”
Fly shrugged. “Careful. She might just materialize. The One Who Shall Not Be Named.”
That earned a chorus of laughter.
The interactions rolled around him effortlessly, waves of warmth, ribbing, familiarity. He loved it, but more than that, more than anything, made the path to the waterfront feel like home.
He spotted Lieutenant Carson James Hollis standing near the whiteboard outside the sailing shed, arms folded, sunglasses perched on his head.
He was in khakis, too, but somehow looked like he’d tried a little too hard, posture just a shade too confident, smile a touch too practiced as he spoke to two juniors.
Fly paused. Nothing obvious. Nothing he could point to. But something about Hollis’s energy rubbed wrong, like a strong current just beneath calm water.
When the juniors cleared out, Fly approached.
“Sir,” he said, respectful but steady.
Hollis turned, smile tightening a fraction. “Gallagher. You’re early.”
“Wanted to go over the course together before we brief the crew,” Fly said.
Hollis lifted one brow, amused. “Of course you did.”
Fly ignored the tone. “I reviewed the projected wind shifts. Looks like a south-to-southeast drift by mid-race. Harvard’s going to want that early push at mark one.”
A flicker crossed Hollis’s face. Respect? Irritation? Hard to tell.
“You’re not wrong,” Hollis admitted. “Their skipper’s aggressive. Likes to force unprepared boats into bad tacks.”
Fly nodded. “Wouldn’t mind knowing who we’re up against instructor-wise, too. Just so I know the coaching style on their side. Last name’s Hollis, too.” Hollis’s jaw ticked. “Sir,” he added lightly, “Any relation?” He already suspected the answer, but the pause confirmed it.
Hollis’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Older brother,” he said shortly.
Fly absorbed that. “Didn’t mean to step on anything, sir.”
“No stepping.” Hollis waved it off, but the tightness in his tone sharpened.
“He’s always been that way. Naturally gifted.
Things just come easier for some people.
” Hollis gave him a bitter look, his words like cuts of a too-familiar blade.
“You know all about that, don’t you, Gallagher? ” He shrugged like it didn’t matter
Fly felt the familiar sting anyway. He knew that tone. He’d heard it his whole life, as if Fly’s intelligence meant nothing cost him, as if success came easy. It never had.
There were some who resented him, and he couldn’t help that. He’d never take the easy way out and the people like him challenged him every day, the determined students, the exceptional instructors pushed him, demanded things from him, he had never known he was capable of giving.
Worth was for others who needed it. The trials, the bruises, the late nights were not about simple pride or proving anything to anyone. They gave him what he had always been searching for. Meaning. Purpose. A place to serve. A chance to be part of something larger than himself.
He kept his voice even. “Maybe he feels people judge him by their standards and not the ones he holds for himself. Maybe it’s about finally being challenged and living up to that potential instead of coasting…sir.”
Hollis studied him, eyes narrowing, as if Fly had just handed him something sharper than an observation and more pointed than a lesson. Something he didn’t quite know how to respond to.
“Old story,” Hollis muttered. “Doesn’t matter for the race.”
Except it obviously did. Fly and Hollis had clashed before. They didn’t mesh, not as student and instructor, and not in how they saw the water.
Hollis straightened. “All you need to focus on is sailing cleanly, following orders, and not choking when Crimson Star crowds Valor at the first leg.”
Fly’s brows tugged together. “Valor is the stronger of the two vessels. I don’t choke, sir.”
Hollis smirked. “We’ll see.”
Fly held his gaze for half a heartbeat longer than necessary.
There it was again, that instinctive prickle of distrust. Not because Hollis wasn’t competent. He clearly was. But something about the man felt…insecure beneath the polish.
“Course briefing in ten,” Hollis said, turning back to the chart. “Don’t be late.”
Fly nodded and walked toward the boats, the unease sticking to him like a burr under his skin.
He’d learned, long before Annapolis, never to ignore the first stir of a bad current.
When he rounded the corner toward the dock, Mei was waiting, fists clenched, eyes flashing.
“Ooh, he’s such a jerk,” she snapped. “He has no idea who you are. But maybe now he does. I think he was the one feeling small.”
Fly waved it off. “It’s fine, Mei. We know who we are. Don’t we?”
Her expression softened instantly. She reached for his hand and squeezed hard. “Yes, we do.”
Than walked up then, his gaze dropping to their joined hands before lifting again. His mouth tightened just slightly. “What’s up?”
“Ran into our instructor,” Fly said lightly.
“What wisdom did he impart?” Than asked, one brow arching.
Mei filled him in, quick and pointed. Than stiffened.
“Not anything you couldn’t handle,” he said. “I don’t like him. He’s self-serving.”
Fly blew out a breath. “Agreed. Something about him just… I don’t know. Old-money names always sound like they own a law firm or a polo team. Kit. Tripp. Whit. Pick a preppy noun, add a consonant, and boom.”
Than’s mouth twitched. “He does look like he should own a polo pony.”
“And a small law firm,” Mei added, deadpan.
Fly snorted. “Or a yacht called Trust Fund.”
Than cleared his throat. “Don’t you have a trust fund coming your way, there, Biff?”
Fly barked a laugh and shoved him. “Shut up, Than.”
Mei giggled as they headed toward Valor.
She did that a lot around Than.
How was he just noticing?
Than smirked, subtle but unmistakably satisfied.
Ash and Pearl Boutique, Main Street, Annapolis, Maryland
Fly had never expected dress shopping to be a thing he’d willingly agree to, but here he was, leaning against a mirrored wall in a small boutique off Main Street while Mei hovered in front of a rack of dresses like it was a tactical decision point.
Her fingertips brushed fabric as if she were choosing by feel instead of sight. She didn’t look at them when she spoke.
“So,” she said, casual but not careless, “are you guys nervous about BUD/S?”
Fly glanced at Than first. He stood a few feet away, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, eyes tracking Mei without him seeming aware of it.
Fly caught the look and filed it away. He’d been noticing that more lately.
The way Than went quiet when Mei was focused on something.
The way his attention settled on her without effort.
He wasn’t sure when it had started, but lately, Than’s presence had begun to echo something familiar.
The same quiet gravity. The same grounded steadiness.
The same weight Bear carried without ever announcing it.
Than had always been reserved, but Fly couldn’t quite read him anymore, and they hadn’t talked about BUD/S. Not really.
“It’s demanding enough for enlisted,” Mei went on, still studying the dresses, “but they hammer officers pretty hard.”
Fly exhaled slowly. “I want hard, Mei. I want that challenge.” He hesitated, then added honestly, “I can’t speak for Than.”
Than’s expression didn’t change. But when he spoke, there was no uncertainty in his voice. “I wouldn’t say I’m nervous,” he said. “Eager fits better.”
Fly nodded, unsurprised.
“Am I worried about fucking up?” Than continued.
“Yeah. Of course. Who isn’t?” His jaw tightened just enough for Fly to catch it.
“Just because we’ve been through the Academy doesn’t mean we’re ready for the real world.
That’s not drills. That’s not exams. That’s getting tested when men’s lives are on the line.
” Mei’s hand stilled on the hanger. “That’s the real thing,” Than finished quietly. “It’s no goddamned test.”
The boutique felt smaller for a second.
Mei turned fully toward them, eyes steady. “You understand the weight of it,” she said softly. “That’s why you’ll be ready.”
Something settled in his chest at that.
“You sound like an officer already,” he teased.
She shrugged, a small smile tugging at her mouth. “Maybe I am.”
Than didn’t look away from her. Not right away, and Fly saw it again, that quiet focus, the way Than seemed to file moments away like they mattered. Suddenly, the dresses felt secondary. This, this knowing, this honesty was the thing that would stay with them.
“You want to know what I think?” Mei asked. She faced them both now. “I think you’ll crush it. The Navy’s about to get two top-notch SEAL officers. The teammates you serve with will become your priority. Brotherhood isn’t just a word.” She smiled, soft and genuine. “I envy that a little.”
Than stepped closer. “You want to know what I think, Mei?” he said quietly. “I think we got the better part of this friendship deal. You’re going to change the world your own way.”
Mei blinked. Once. Then again. Color rose to her cheeks as she looked down, clearly flustered by the sincerity in his voice.
“Okay,” she said quickly, grabbing a navy dress like a shield. “Enough mush. Too serious?”
Fly grinned.
Than squinted. “That one looks like you’re about to give a congressional briefing.”
She grimaced and put it back. The next dress was deep sea green, simple, fluid, catching light without trying to. She hesitated and glanced at Than.
His voice came out low. “That one.”
She looked at him again, surprised, then nodded and disappeared into the fitting room.
Fly watched Than as the curtain slid closed. “You okay over there?”
Than shrugged, but his shoulders were tight. “She’s…she’s doing something important. We need to be honest and supportive.”
Fly smiled. That told him everything he needed to know.
When Mei stepped out a moment later, the shop went quiet. The dress was simple. No drama. Clean lines, fluid fabric, the color echoing water at dusk. It moved when she moved, catching light without demanding it.
Than stopped breathing.
Mei looked between them, uncertainty flickering. “Too much?”
Fly didn’t hesitate. “No. That’s it.”
Than swallowed. “You look…right.”
The word landed differently than pretty would have. Mei’s shoulders eased. She smiled, softer now, and something settled into place between the three of them.