Logan
Hampton, Virginia
The morning sun beats down on the tarmac as I walk toward the flight simulators, the faint scent of jet fuel hanging in the air.
I adjust the cuffs of my flight suit, rolling my left shoulder, working out the tension from this morning’s training flight.
My mind is already half in the cockpit, running through maneuvers, when movement ahead pulls me back to the present.
The door to Lila’s office swings shut, and standing in front of it, straight-backed and commanding as ever, is Lieutenant General Mercer.
My steps slow instinctively.
The years haven’t changed him much—his sharp blue eyes miss nothing, and even in his dress uniform, he looks every bit the seasoned warrior he is.
The last time we were in the same place, I was standing stiff and silent at Lincoln’s memorial.
It was a brief moment—just a handshake, my murmured condolence laced with guilt and self-loathing—but the weight of it has lingered ever since.
His gaze shifts, locking on to me, and I straighten fully. Protocol is ingrained in me like muscle memory. I stop a few feet away, snapping into a crisp salute. “Sir.”
His eyes hold mine as he returns the salute, precise and measured. “Captain James.”
I lower my hand, clasping it behind my back, standing at ease but still alert. There’s a heaviness between us, a decade’s worth of unspoken words. But when he speaks, it isn’t with the cool detachment of a superior officer. There’s something else there, something personal.
“I take it you were looking for my daughter?” His voice is even, but there’s a knowing glint in his eye.
I clear my throat. “Not at the moment, sir. Just heading to the simulators.”
He nods, as if he expected that answer. Then, after a brief pause, he adds, “Lila’s happy.”
I’m not prepared for this—not because I don’t know it, but because he’s telling me.
“Yes, sir,” I say, my voice steady. “I’d like to think so.”
His lips twitch slightly. “She talks about you.”
That makes my chest tighten in a way I don’t quite expect. I swallow, nodding once. “She means everything to me.”
Something flickers in his expression, approval, maybe? “Then don’t let this life make you forget that.”
I meet his gaze fully. “I won’t, sir.”
Mercer nods once, then glances back toward Lila’s office door. “She loves you, Captain.”
My heart rate kicks up.
I meet his gaze again, my voice sure. “I love her too.”
He studies me for a moment longer, then nods.
“Good.” He motions toward my stiff posture.
“You can relax, Captain.” I let my arms fall to my sides, mirroring his more relaxed stance.
He studies me for a long moment, then exhales, his stance shifting ever so slightly. “You remind me of him sometimes.”
I don’t have to ask who he means. The name lingers in the air between us, unsaid but heavy. I keep my expression neutral, but my fingers curl slightly at my sides.
“Lincoln was an incredible wingman. I miss him every day,” I say quietly. It’s the truth. Always will be.
Mercer watches me carefully. “I know what you’ve been carrying, Captain.”
I hold my breath, my jaw tightening.
“You think you failed him,” he continues, his voice steady but firm. “You think if you had done something different that day, he’d still be here.”
I don’t answer. I don’t have to. We both know the truth of it.
Mercer exhales, shaking his head. “But you’re wrong.”
My throat tightens. “Sir—”
“He was the kind of man who would put someone else’s life before his own,” Mercer says, cutting me off gently. “You know that. He made a choice, Logan.”
Hearing my name from him, rather than my rank, knocks something loose inside me.
“You’re not the reason my son is dead.”
My breath feels unsteady in my chest. I stare at him, searching for any hesitation, any doubt in his expression. There is none.
“He trusted you,” Mercer says. “And I believe he was right to.”
I drop my gaze for a second, my pulse loud in my ears. The words sink in, slow and deep. They don’t erase the past. They don’t change what happened. But they matter. More than I expected them to.
“I appreciate that, sir,” I manage.
Mercer studies me for a moment, his sharp, assessing gaze the kind that sees straight through a man.
Then he nods, like he’s come to some unspoken conclusion.
“I’ve kept an eye on your career,” he says, his voice even.
“Not just because of Lincoln, though I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t part of it. You’ve made quite a name for yourself.”
The statement catches me off guard, but I school my features. “Thank you, sir.”
He exhales, shaking his head. “Top of your class at the academy, then again at UPT and IFF. Earned your way into a Raptor squadron—hand-selected, no less—after racking up nearly a dozen commendations. And now, representing the Air Force on the demonstration team.” He gives a wry smile.
“Hell of a career already, and you’re just getting started. ”
I nod once, the praise settling over me like unfamiliar weight. I’ve never needed recognition, never sought it out. But hearing it from a man like Mercer—Lincoln’s father, a man who’s served longer than I’ve been alive—hits differently.
“You remind me a lot of my son,” he continues, his voice quieter now. “Not just in skill but in the way you carry yourself. The way you lead. He respected you, you know.”
I swallow hard, nodding. “I respected him too, sir. More than I can say.”
Mercer’s expression doesn’t waver, but there’s something softer in his eyes. “I know.” Then, after a beat, “You’ve honored him, Captain.”
The words settle deep, easing something inside me I hadn’t realized was still raw. I nod again, not trusting my voice.
Mercer straightens, a finality in his stance. “And whether you believe it or not, you deserve every bit of what you’ve earned.”
He extends a hand, and I take it without hesitation, the firm grip solid between us. “Thank you, sir,” I say, meaning it.
And with that, he turns, walking away. I watch him go, exhaling slowly as the tension in my shoulders starts to ease.
I flick a glance at Lila’s office door, the pull to see her almost too strong to ignore. But instead, I push forward, dragging in a deep breath that somehow feels easier, lighter—like I’m finally coming up for air after too damn long.