Chapter 12 #3
He stared up at the ceiling, listening to the surf roll in, feeling a profound sense of peace settle over him that he hadn't felt in years. Maybe ever.
Mei was curled against him, her arm draped over his waist, her cheek resting between his shoulder blades.
Her breathing was slow and even, a soft puff of air against his skin that anchored him in place.
For a long moment, he didn’t move. He just lay there, suspended between sleep and waking, enjoying the reality of her.
She was here. She had chosen him. He hadn’t dreamed any of it.
The weight in his chest wasn’t heavy the way it usually was. It was full. Settled. The kind of quiet that came after something true had been spoken aloud and answered without hesitation.
He shifted carefully, just enough to turn and face her.
Mei stirred, lashes fluttering as she surfaced, eyes dark with sleep and softened by the light. When she focused on him, her mouth curved into a small, unmistakably content smile.
“Hi,” she murmured.
“Morning,” he said, his voice rough but steady.
She stretched slightly, her hand sliding up to his chest as if it belonged there. The touch wasn’t demanding. It was familiar already, easy and unguarded, and it did something dangerous to his composure.
She studied him for a moment, then smiled again. “You look…peaceful.”
He considered that. “I feel it.”
Her smile deepened. She leaned in, pressing a quiet kiss to his shoulder, then settled back against him with a sigh that sounded like relief.
They didn’t rush to fill the silence. There was no need. The ocean spoke for them, the light did its slow work, and the moment held.
For the first time in a long while, Than didn’t feel like he was bracing for impact.
He felt like he had found solid ground.
After being with Mei again, bare and exposed to the dawn and the ocean, they showered, kissing and touching like they couldn’t get enough of each other.
He dressed slowly, reluctantly, as if each piece of clothing was a step farther from something he wasn’t ready to leave. Mei moved around the room behind him, dressing as well, the sight of her like that cutting deeper than anything else had.
His attention turned to the nightstand. There, resting innocently on the wood, were the cuff links she had given him.
He studied them in the silence, the silver buffalo, heavy and detailed. He swallowed hard, remembering the way she had carefully removed them, treating them like treasures. He reached out, fingers trailing over the cool metal, picking one up.
He had wondered, when he first opened the box, if it was just because of who he was.
Because he was Lakota. It was the easy assumption, the one people always made.
Give the Native guy the buffalo. It was a generic symbol, a cliché almost. But looking at them now, remembering the way she looked at him last night, he knew it wasn't that.
Mei watched him from the doorway. “You’re thinking hard over there,” she said softly. “Second thoughts?” she asked.
Than smiled and her expression softened. “Never.” Dressed in a T-shirt and jeans, she looked beautiful, rumpled and soft in the morning light.
"But I am thinking hard," he admitted, holding up the cuff link between them. "I was looking at these."
She blinked, focusing on the silver in his fingers. "They look good on you."
"They do," he agreed. Then he hesitated, the question that had been sitting in the back of his mind finally finding its voice. "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"Why buffalo?" He watched her face closely, then looked down at the metal in his hand. "I need to know why you see me in them."
Mei didn't answer right away. She didn't give him a platitude or a rehearsed speech. Instead, she looked at him, really looked at him, and something in her eyes, deepened, like she had been waiting for this moment without knowing it.
"Because you’re grounded," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper in the room.
"You don't chase attention. You don't need to be seen to be strong.
" She reached out, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw, her touch grounding him.
"Buffalo move with purpose," she continued.
"They endure. They protect what’s behind them.
They walk into the wind, not away from it.
" Than swallowed, the lump in his throat growing tight.
"They carry the weight," she went on, her eyes searching his.
"They don’t run from storms. They face them, and when they stop, the world adjusts around them. "
His breath left him slowly. He thought of BUD/S, of the grueling months ahead, of the discipline it took to just keep going when a man’s mind wanted to quit. He thought of the way he held himself back, the way he watched over his wrestling team as their captain, his family, her.
Mei crossed the room, stepped close to him to reach up and feather her fingers through his hair. "I didn’t explain it earlier," Mei said, her voice gentle, apologetic almost. "Not because it didn’t matter. But because I didn’t think you needed words to understand it."
She smiled then, soft and sure, and leaned in to brush her lips against his. "You already live it."
For a moment, Than couldn't speak. The emotion rising in his chest was too big, too sharp.
The noise of the world, the ocean, the impending training, the expectations, faded until there was nothing but the truth settling into his bones.
He wasn't a symbol to her. He wasn't a checkmark on a diversity form or a representative of a people.
"So…not because I’m Lakota," he said finally, a trace of humor breaking through the thickness in his throat.
Mei shook her head, her eyes dancing slightly. "No. Because you’re you."
Something in his chest cracked open, a dam breaking free.
"Thank you," he said, the words carrying more weight than he knew how to say. "For seeing me."
She nodded once, leaning her forehead against his. "You're welcome."
He slipped the cuff links into the velvet bag with care, then nestled them inside with the folded tux. Turning from the bed, he pulled her into his arms and rested his forehead against hers.
“I’m not leaving this,” he said. It wasn’t a promise of logistics or timelines. It was something deeper. A vow of intention.
“I know,” she replied.
When he finally stepped out into the morning, the ocean still breathing behind him, the weight he carried wasn’t loss.
It was the beginning of the rest of his life.