Chapter 6
Nine Years Ago
Jack stared at the calculus problem in front of him until the numbers blurred together. He'd been looking at the same equation for twenty minutes, and it still made about as much sense as it had when he'd first opened the textbook at oh-five-hundred that morning.
Around him, the study room buzzed with the low murmur of exhausted voices. Six other midshipmen sat scattered around the table, textbooks open, notebooks filled with scratched-out attempts at solutions. The overhead lights cast everything in a harsh fluorescent glow that made Jack's eyes ache.
“Anyone get number seventeen?” Wayne asked, his voice tight with frustration. He was a good guy, sharp as hell, but even he looked like he was drowning.
“Nope.” Sarah didn't even look up from her own work. “I'm still stuck on fourteen.”
“I got through seventeen,” offered Tony, “but I have no idea if it's right. Pretty sure I made it up halfway through.”
A few tired laughs rippled around the table.
Jack scrubbed his hand over his face and tried to focus.
He had this study session until thirteen hundred, then baseball practice until sixteen hundred, then maybe two hours to finish the rest of his assignments before lights out.
And tomorrow it would start all over again.
He’d made it through plebe year and was now a midshipman in his second year, otherwise known as youngsters. And right now, he felt like a youngster.
“This is brutal,” Wayne muttered, echoing what they were all thinking.
“It's the Academy,” Sarah said, her tone flat. “It's supposed to be brutal.”
Jack knew she was right. They all knew it. They'd signed up for it. The relentless schedule, the impossible standards, the constant pressure to be better, faster, stronger, smarter. But knowing it didn't make it any easier to live through.
He pulled out his phone during the five-minute break and checked for messages.
Nothing from Rachel. He'd sent her a text that morning, just a quick good morning, and she’d responded with her own version of a sweet good morning.
Better than what he’d managed. She hadn’t sent anything since.
Probably in class. Or maybe she was tired of waiting for him to have time to actually talk.
Jack shoved the phone back in his pocket and returned to the calculus problem.
By the time the study session ended, Jack's brain felt like mush.
He grabbed his bag and headed for the door, already mentally preparing for practice.
His shoulder ached from yesterday's pitching drills, and his legs felt heavy from the morning run, but he couldn't afford to show weakness. Not on the field. Not anywhere.
“Jack, wait up.”
He turned to find Melissa Grant catching up to him in the hallway. She was in his platoon, a year ahead of him, and one of the few people who seemed to have her shit together. She was tall, athletic, with short dark hair and sharp eyes that didn't miss much.
“Hey, Melissa,” Jack said, adjusting his bag on his shoulder.
“You looked like you were struggling in there.”
Jack managed a tired smile. “Just calculus. And everything else.”
“Yeah, I know that feeling.” Melissa fell into step beside him as they walked toward the athletic complex. “I’d like to say that it gets better, but…”
He snorted. “That's what everyone keeps saying.”
“It's true. You just have to survive long enough to see it.” She paused. “You heading to practice?”
“Yeah. You?”
“Track in an hour.” Melissa was a distance runner, one of the best on the women's team. “How's baseball going?”
“It's going.” Jack didn't elaborate. Practice had been rough lately.
The coach had been riding him hard about his focus, about his performance, about everything.
Jack knew he wasn't pitching his best, but he was doing everything he could just to stay afloat.
Exhaustion pulled at every muscle… hell, maybe even every cell.
They reached the entrance to the athletic complex and stopped. Melissa turned to look at him, her expression thoughtful.
“Can I ask you something personal?”
Jack's head tilted. “Sure.”
“Are you seeing someone? Back home?”
The question caught him off guard. Jack hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. We're trying to make it work long distance.”
Melissa's expression shifted, something like sympathy crossing her features. “That's tough.”
“It is.” Jack didn't know why he was admitting this to her. Maybe because she was a good listener. Maybe because he was too tired to keep it all locked up anymore. He’d come to the Academy, determined to be the best he could be in all areas…
student, athlete, boyfriend. And hated that he wasn’t proving to be invincible.
“I'm not trying to be forward,” Melissa said carefully, “but I've seen this before. A lot of plebes come in with relationships back home. Most of the relationships don't make it through the first year.”
Jack felt something tighten in his chest. “We're committed. We’ve made it to our second year.”
“Maybe you are.” Melissa's tone wasn't unkind. “But Jack, you can barely keep your head above water right now. We’re all drowning. It’s part of the process. Adding the stress of trying to maintain a long-distance relationship on top of everything else...” She let the implication hang between them.
“You suggesting I should break up with her?” Jack's voice came out in a hoarse whispered rush. “Because we don’t have enough time for each other?”
“I think you need to be realistic about what you can handle right now.” Melissa met his eyes.
“The Academy doesn't leave room for much else.
And if you're constantly worried about someone back home, constantly feeling guilty about not having time for them, it's going to affect your performance here.”
Jack wanted to argue. Wanted to tell her she was wrong, that he could do it all, that Rachel was worth the struggle.
But the truth was, he'd been thinking the same thing for weeks now.
Every missed call. Every short text exchange that left both of them frustrated.
Every moment he spent worrying about whether Rachel was waiting for him instead of focusing on what was in front of him.
“I'm not saying you don't care about her,” Melissa continued gently. “I'm just saying that maybe now isn't the best time for trying to maintain something that requires more than you can give.”
Jack stared at the floor, his throat tight. “Yeah,” he said quietly, the single word pulled from him, making him feel like shit.
Melissa briefly touched his arm, a gesture of understanding. “For what it's worth, if she's the right person, you'll find your way back to each other when the timing's better.”
She gave him a small smile and headed toward the women's locker room. Jack stood there for a long moment, her words echoing in his head. Then he pushed through the doors to the baseball complex.
Practice was brutal. The coach ran them hard, and when Jack's pitches started going wild in the seventh inning of the scrimmage, Coach called him over.
“Hudson, what the hell is going on with you?”
Jack straightened up, trying to look alert despite the exhaustion pulling at every muscle in his body. “Sorry, Coach. I'll dial it in.”
“You've been saying that for weeks.” Coach Hendricks crossed his arms, his expression hard. “Your mechanics are sloppy. Your focus is nonexistent. You're one of my best pitchers, but right now, you're playing like you don't give a damn.”
“I do give a damn,” Jack said, frustration bleeding into his voice. “I'm just—”
“Just what? Tired? Overwhelmed? Welcome to the Academy, Midshipman. We're all tired. We're all overwhelmed. That's not an excuse.”
Jack's jaw tightened. “Yes, sir.”
The coach studied him for a long moment. “You got something going on I need to know about?”
“No, sir.”
“Because if you can't handle the demands of being here and playing for this team, you need to tell me now. I can't have players who are only half here.”
The words hit Jack like a punch to the gut.
He thought about Rachel, about the phone calls he couldn't take, about the guilt that sat heavy in his chest every time he had to choose between studying and talking to her.
He thought about Melissa's words. About the impossibility of trying to give everything to the Academy while also trying to hold on to something hours away.
“I can handle it, Coach,” Jack said. But even as the words left his mouth, he knew he was lying.
That night, Jack sat on his bed with his phone in his hand. Rachel's contact photo stared back at him. Her smile. Her eyes. Everything he'd been holding on to for months.
He knew what he needed to do. Knew it with a certainty that felt like drowning. Then he set the phone face down on his desk and stared at the ceiling, his chest tight with the knowledge of what was coming.
Melissa was right… the Academy didn't leave room for much else. And if Jack was going to survive this place and become the officer he'd committed to becoming, he couldn't keep splitting himself in half. The decision settled over him like a weight. Heavy and heartbreaking.
But inevitable.