Chapter 1 #2
He’d thrown himself into the work. Mission planning, intelligence analysis, logistics coordination.
It was important work… all the unglamorous tasks that kept teams alive in the field.
And he was good at it. Better than good.
But every time the teams went out and Bert stayed behind, something ate at his gut.
He knew it, recognized it, but still felt it… grief for the life he’d lost.
The bar was filling up with the usual crowd—sailors letting off steam, locals who’d learned to tolerate the military presence, and women who gravitated toward men in uniform like moths to a flame.
Bert watched as a blonde in a tight dress made a beeline for Devlin, who welcomed her with that easy charm that seemed to come as naturally to him as breathing.
Sisco had attracted his own admirers. There were no fewer than three women clustered around him, drawn by his deep voice and that quirky smile that transformed his usually serious face.
Logan settled into the chair beside Bert, his own beer in hand. “Not interested in the entertainment?” he asked with a nod toward the women circling their teammates.
“Not tonight,” Bert said. Not most nights, if he was being honest. The hearing aid in his left ear worked well enough in quiet spaces, but in loud environments like this bar, everything became an overwhelming jumble of noise that he couldn’t distinguish or filter.
Trying to hold a conversation with background music and dozens of other voices felt like trying to hear underwater.
He knew he could wiggle a finger and a desperate-for-a-SEAL woman would be at his beck and call for the night…
or for a few hours. But that no longer held much appeal.
He wanted more at this stage of his life.
He wanted someone who noticed him, not just the uniform.
He wanted someone who could accept all of him, wanted to build a relationship that lasted longer than a night in a cheap hotel, and was willing to get to know him, the way he was now.
But Bert found it was easier to sit back and watch.
To nurse a beer and pretend he didn’t mind being on the sidelines.
When he grew tired of that, he noticed Logan had disappeared outside to where there were a few empty tables overlooking the water.
He stood and made his way outside, immediately calmed by the peaceful environment.
He settled in a seat next to his team leader.
“You did good work on this op,” Logan said after a moment. “The intel you provided was solid. We wouldn’t have pulled it off without your planning.”
“That’s the job,” Bert said, but the words tasted bitter. Good work from behind a desk. Valuable support. Important contributions. All the euphemisms that meant you weren’t actually in the fight anymore.
They sat in companionable silence for a while, able to see inside through the windows as Devlin charmed his admirer and Sisco laughed at something one of the women said. The music thumped through the bar, but thankfully, out here, it was tolerable.
“You ever think about what you’ll do when you’re out?” Logan asked suddenly.
Bert turned to look at him, trying to read his expression in the dim light. “Out of the Navy?”
“Yeah. None of us are getting younger. There are only so many years you can keep doing this before your body gives out or you get unlucky.” Logan took a drink. “I’ve been thinking about it lately. What comes next.”
“You thinking of getting out?” Bert asked, surprised. Logan was one of the best operators Bert had ever worked with. He was calm under pressure, had a brilliant tactical mind, and was a natural leader. The idea of him leaving felt wrong somehow.
“Maybe. Eventually.” Logan’s gaze was distant, thoughtful. “I have some ideas. Nothing concrete yet. But I won’t be doing this forever.”
“What kind of ideas?”
Logan was quiet for a long moment, and Bert wondered if he’d overstepped.
But then Logan said, “Private security. Something that uses my skills but gives me more control over the operations. Better pay, better conditions, choice in the missions I take.” He glanced at Bert.
“What about you? What would you do if you weren’t supporting the teams? ”
Bert’s hand tightened on his beer bottle. What would I do? He’d been asking himself that question for months and still didn’t have an answer. His whole adult life had been built around being a SEAL. When that was taken away, what was left?
“I don’t know,” Bert admitted quietly. “This is all I’ve ever known. This is all I’m good at.”
“That’s not true,” Logan said firmly. “You’re good at a lot of things. Strategy. Logistics. Training. You’ve got a tactical mind that most people would kill for. The hearing loss doesn’t change that.”
But it had changed everything else. The camaraderie of being in the field with the team. The satisfaction of direct action. The sense of purpose that came from being on the front lines. Bert had lost all of that, and he didn’t know how to build a life without it.
“I’m willing to serve in any way I can,” Bert said finally. “Even if it’s just from behind a desk. As long as I’m helping keep you guys alive, I can live with it.”
Logan studied him for a long moment. “What if there was another option? Something between desk work and active duty?”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know yet. But when I figure it out, you’ll be one of the first people I tell.” Logan raised his beer bottle. “Because wherever I end up, I want people I trust backing me up. And I trust you, Bert. Hearing aid or not.”
They clinked bottles, and Bert felt something loosen slightly in his chest. It wasn’t a promise. It wasn’t even a concrete plan. But it was a possibility. And right now, a possibility was more than he’d had in a long time.
Later, walking back to base alone while his teammates stayed at the bar with their admirers, Bert thought about Logan’s question. What came next? What did the future hold for a SEAL who could no longer be a SEAL?
He didn’t have answers. But Logan’s words echoed in his mind. “I trust you. Wherever I end up, I want people I trust backing me up.”
Maybe that was enough. Maybe that could be enough.
Bert pressed his palm against his hearing aid, that habitual gesture he’d developed over the past months.
The device helped, but it didn’t fix what was broken.
He’d never hear normally again. Would never pass the physical requirements to return to active duty.
Would spend the rest of his career supporting from the sidelines instead of being in the fight.
But he was still here. Still breathing. Still able to serve, even if it wasn’t in the way he’d imagined.
And maybe, someday, Logan’s mysterious ideas about what came next would turn into something real. Something that would let Bert use his skills in a new way. Something that would make him feel less like a broken piece of equipment that had been reassigned because it was no longer fit for purpose.
The night was warm, the air heavy with humidity that made his T-shirt stick to his skin. Somewhere in the distance, music from another bar drifted on the breeze, but Bert couldn’t make out the melody. Just noise. Just sound without meaning.
He’d get used to it. Eventually. He’d adapt, just like he’d adapted to everything else the military had thrown at him over the years.
Tonight, walking back to base alone, Bert let himself feel the weight of everything that had changed in fifteen feet and one split-second decision to protect strangers instead of himself.
But with Logan’s words about the future, he let himself dream about what might be down the road that would give him more purpose than this.
And for the first time in a long time, the weight on his chest lifted.