“Ready?” asked a SEAL from another team named White as they waited in a back room of a hangar on base for the Chief Petty Officer pinning ceremony.
“Not sure,” Bacon answered honestly. Both Bacon and White had missed much of the six week “induction period” that most new chiefs went through because they were deployed with their respective SEAL teams.
The ceremony would include all those who had recently made chief, not just SEALs. Because such a small percentage of enlisted people went on to make chief, the base made a big deal of the pinning ceremony, taking over a hangar so that family and friends could watch, having speeches and sharing traditions like having all the new chiefs sing a navy song—something Bacon was going to suck at. They wore their khaki dress uniforms, minus the cover—they’d get new hats with the new rank on them at the ceremony and would get their anchors pinned onto their uniform by someone special to them.
“Who is doing your pinning?” he asked White.
“My wife.” He looked about ready to bust from pride, wide shoulders rising. “It’s a good year for us. She just got her nurse practitioner’s degree, and I got to be there for her graduation. Now it’s my turn. We’re looking to buy a house. Maybe kids...” He trailed off with a dopey grin. “How about you?”
“My mom.” He was trying very hard not to think about Spencer. He would have had his mom do the honors regardless, but seeing White’s pride about his wife made his chest ache all over again. They could have had a future like that. Plans. Celebrations.
In the days since he’d heard Spencer on the radio, he’d almost texted or emailed two dozen times, but each time he stopped, not sure what to say that might make a difference. That and he’d been super busy with getting ready for the pinning ceremony—long days of activities. A sleepy, poorly worded text could come off as little more than a booty call, which wasn’t what he wanted. The best bet might be to talk in person, but that was going to have to wait. And maybe the longer he waited, the more likely he would be to come up with the right words.
All the new chiefs marched out together, along with flag bearers for the naval and American flags. The hangar had been decorated with red, white, and blue bunting and a lectern on a large platform for the speeches. Behind the stage hung a mammoth American flag and a smaller sign with the Sailor’s Creed on it, and off to one side was the ceremonial bell they would each ring. Metal folding chairs for the audience were arranged in front of the platform.
His mom was there, near the front, next to Curly’s fiancée, Rachel, and the senior chief’s wife. His mom had on a brand-new dress she’d sent him photos of—white with small red flowers—and a blue cardigan. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her prettier or happier, her wide smile telegraphing her pride. The many rows of chairs were crowded, mostly with people he didn’t know, but there were a few other familiar faces like Isaiah and their friend Maddox, a former SEAL, sitting together. And then, right as they turned a corner while marching, he glimpsed a profile he’d know anywhere sitting in the very last row.
Spencer.
Bacon almost missed his next step, and only years of training kept his face neutral. Or at least he hoped it was neutral and serious, as suited the occasion. But inside, his thoughts raced. Spencer had come. Here. To this. To watch him. That had to count for something, right? But then that was followed by a second, more dour thought, What if nothing’s changed? What if Spencer was simply being supportive? Maybe he didn’t even intend for Bacon to see him.
He tried to turn his attention to the ceremony. The chief they had selected for the anthem would have been at home singing at the World Series, with a deep rich baritone. Then came the speeches, and ordinarily, they would have bored him, but today felt different. Important. He’d worked a decade to get here. From the moment he’d joined the navy, he’d looked up to the chiefs and senior chiefs, and getting to join their ranks was special. His heart hammered hard as two SEAL chiefs carefully placed his cover on his head for him. They straightened it with the care Bacon might give checking his parachute rigging, and whispered congratulations to him.
Because of his last name, he was one of the first chiefs pinned. His mom came forward, hands visibly trembling as she pinned on his anchors. Tears shone in her eyes, and a lump the size of the bell he was about to ring formed in his throat.
“I’m so proud,” she whispered.
Cameras flashed, and he very deliberately did not look at Spencer in that moment, needing to stay inside himself to keep the swarming emotions at bay. After ringing the bell, he marched to the center walkway as the announcer said, “Chief Delbert Lawrence Bacon, Junior, SEAL teams, arriving.”
A whistle blew and the color guard saluted him as he walked through, a ceremonial “piped aboard” tradition he’d anticipated for years. It was then, and only then, once he’d walked through, that he let his gaze return to Spencer. Their eyes met and held, and his chest tightened, emotions again rising as he saw all the pride and love he’d seen on him mom’s face there on Spencer’s. He’d waited what felt like an eternity for some person to look at him like that, that sort of unconditional love brimming in their eyes.
But it’s not real, a little voice tickled at the edges of his thoughts. There were conditions on Spencer’s love, and his motives in coming had yet to be revealed. But still, he couldn’t help the way his heart trilled, the way his pulse galloped, or how reluctant his eyes were to leave Spencer. He might never see that look again, and he wanted to wallow in it.
But all too soon it was the next chief’s turn and so on as the whole group received their anchors and were piped aboard. The whole time his mind was reeling. Would Spencer leave before they could even talk? Did he want to talk? He let those thoughts rattle around through the rest of the ceremony. Afterward, everyone was milling around, congratulations and best wishes flying as countless pictures were taken. When he’d made E-4 and gotten his crow, tradition said that his teammates “tacked on the crow” by hitting his biceps. Now with the anchors, everyone kept hitting his collarbone where the anchors were and he was pretty sure he was going to have a bruise later from all the good-natured “pinning on.” Friendly hazing from his fellow chiefs would surely follow in the coming days too.
Luckily, he was able to avoid some of that because his mom wanted a picture of him with the senior chief and his wife, and White wanted one of the two of them together.
“SEALs represent, hooyah.” White leaned in, still with the dopey grin. After his wife took the picture, he added, “We’ll have you by when we find a place, okay?”
“That sounds great.” The whole while, Bacon was scanning for Spencer. If he’d stayed, he’d be hanging back. Some big public declaration wasn’t his style, and besides, he wouldn’t want to embarrass Bacon. And who knew, he still might not want anyone knowing they were friends.
While others got slices of cake, he got out his phone on the pretext of wanting a picture of him and his mom. No new messages when he unlocked the screen, so he dashed off a very fast message. Don’t leave.
Not wanting to seem rude, he didn’t wait for a reply, instead handing the phone to Isaiah to get a few pictures of him and his mom together. Then she wanted one of him by the flag, holding his wooden plaque that commemorated his advancement. He tried to be patient. It was her day too. She’d wanted this for him as long as he had.
His eyes finally found Spencer, hanging out near some large metal equipment at the rear of the hangar. Don’t leave, he willed him as he accepted more congratulations. The crowd was finally starting to thin somewhat. Bacon put an arm around his mother, giving her a squeeze.
“Tell you what, you and my plaque head to my truck.” He handed her his keys. “Be thinking about where you want me to take you to eat, and I’ll catch up with you quickly. I see someone I need to say hello to.”
“That sounds fine.” She hugged him back, visibly brightening at the prospect of getting to leave the crowd, and Bacon waited until she had headed out of the hangar to walk over to Spencer.
“Can we talk?” he asked.
“Figured that was my line.” Spencer’s eyes were guarded. “I got your message. I wasn’t going to just leave, but I don’t want to take you away from your people...”
“You’re not. I think all the back-slapping and picture taking is done. I sent my mom ahead to the truck, so I’ve got a minute if you walk with me.”
“I can do that.” Spencer followed him outside. “That was a really moving ceremony. The little girl who pinned on her mother’s anchors was so sweet. You should all be so proud of your achievements.”
“Spencer.” Bacon pulled up short next to a tree. “Why are you here? And don’t tell me you’re writing a story about pinning ceremonies.”
“It would make a good story...” A small smile crept across Spencer’s face, but it was quickly extinguished. “But, no, I came for you. I wanted to see you. And I know I probably shouldn’t have. It was self-indulgent of me, wanting to see your big day.”
“I’m glad you came.” He really was, no matter what was coming next, even if Spencer was about to break his heart for the second time.
“Really? I thought you might be pissed. You’ve got every right to hate me right now.”
“Oh, I’m still angry.” Bacon started walking again, not able to keep still with all the emotions ricocheting through him. “And hurt. You all but shoved me away, Spencer. You made your choice very clear. How did you expect I’d feel?”
“I never wanted to hurt you. It killed me too, letting you go. Couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t eat. Couldn’t write.”
Bacon was having trouble summoning a lot of sympathy when he had a feeling it was the last one that Spencer really cared about.
“That why you’re here? Writer’s block? Need my magic dick to get you writing again? And then you’ll get back to treating me like crap, moving on?”
Spencer’s eyes went wide and his skin mottled, like Bacon had slapped him. “Wow. Okay. You really weren’t kidding about angry. And I deserve that. But, no, I’m not here to cure my writer’s block. I came to apologize. To ask for a second chance.”
For two weeks, Bacon had waited for him to say those words, but now that the moment was here, he wasn’t sure how to react. He slowed to a stop, leaned against a lamp post.
“I’m not sure.”
“I’m dropping the book.” Spencer licked his lips and looked away, uncharacteristically nervous. Probably because he knew Bacon was about to unleash on him.
“You are not. Absolutely, positively not. That book needs you to write it.”
“And I need you in my life more.” Spencer was nothing if not earnest.
And fuck. Bacon could not be doing this right now. He’d waited for those words, but wasn’t sure he could ask Spencer to pay that price. He made a frustrated noise.
“Just think about it, okay? Go, have your meal with your mom. You earned it. I reserved a hotel room here. Text me after dinner, or anytime really, if you want to talk.”
“Oh we’re not done.” He gave Spencer a hard stare. “And you’re coming.”
“I’m doing what?” Spencer blinked.
“You want another chance with me?”
“I do.”
“Seriously?”
Oh, Bacon had forgotten how much fun it could be to knock Spencer off-kilter. “Oh yeah. You want me? I’m done being your secret boy toy. I want the real deal if we do this again.”
“If?”
“If,” he said firmly. It wasn’t just a matter of making Spencer work for it. He honestly wasn’t sure where his own thoughts lay—he did not want Spencer giving up the book for him. He didn’t care if Spencer had the worst case of writer’s block ever, he was going to write that. Everything else...
Well, he just wasn’t sure. But the part of him that was glad Spencer had come down to watch his ceremony was in there too, as was the part that wanted Spencer to meet his mom. He was more than a little bit of a mess. And if doing dinner bought him some time to think, so much the better.