Page 73 of Viking

Don’t let my ghost hang around.

Hampton, Virginia

June 21, 2024

11:39 a.m

Lila

The crowd has thinned, leaving only shadows and silence in its wake. I find Logan standing alone by Ryan's boots and rifle. His shoulders are stiff, his posture rigid, like he's holding himself together by sheer will. I don’t think he even hears me approach.

The sight snaps something inside me, unraveling memories I’ve kept buried beneath layers of time and fragile acceptance.

Lincoln's memorial was drenched in sunlight, an insult to the darkness swallowing us whole. I remember the sharp creases of Dad’s uniform, the way his hands trembled when he thought no one was looking. Mom’s vacant stare, as if she’d been hollowed out from the inside. The folded flag she’d pushed into my hands before breaking down in Dad’s arms. It felt heavier than anything I’d ever carried, weighted with all the words he’d never get to say, all the years he'd never get to live.

The ache in my chest is old but familiar, a wound that never fully healed. I swallow it down, pushing the grief back into the corners where it usually hides, and step closer.

“Logan.” My voice is soft, tentative.

He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even glance at me. His jaw tightens, a muscle feathering along his cheek, and his eyes stay locked on the memorial as if looking away might make it disappear. This space between us is something we don’t know how to navigate.

Without a word, he finally turns and starts walking toward the parking lot. I fall into step beside him, the silence stretching long and taut, but not uncomfortable. When we reach his truck, he opens the door for me, a simple gesture that feels meaningful even though it seems automatic for Logan. I climb in without a word, and he rounds the front, sliding behind the wheel.

The drive to my house is quiet. I don’t know what to say. Maybe there isn’t anything to say. Maybe this silence is the language of grief, and we both speak it fluently.

When we arrive, he kills the engine and steps out, circling the truck to walk me to my door. I hesitate, my hand on the knob, then glance up at him. “Do you want to come in?”

His eyes meet mine for the first time since the memorial, something raw flickering in their depths. He doesn’t answer right away, but after a beat, he nods. He steps inside, dropping his flight cap on the entry table without a glance. I close the door behind him, and when I turn, he’s standing there, staring at the floor like he doesn’t know what to do next.

Physically, he looks incredible in his service dress, filling out the uniform perfectly, the fabric pristine, his tie slightly loosened. The black sling keeps his injured shoulder in place, but rather than making him seem weak, it somehow makes him more compelling, chipping away at the untouchable, invincible version of him I built in my head and leaving behind someone real.

Emotionally, he’s wrung out. His face is pale, his eyes red-rimmed and glassy. The weight of his pain is written all over him, pressing down on his shoulders, making his towering frame seem smaller somehow.

I step closer, hesitating for only a moment before I reach for him. “Come here,” I murmur.

That’s all it takes. He pulls me against his strong chest with his uninjured arm, clutching me so tightly it almost hurts. His body trembles against mine, and I feel his breath hitch as he buries his face in my shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” he chokes out, his voice breaking.

My arms wrap around him, holding him as close as I can. “You don’t have to apologize. I’ve got you. I’m here.”

He shakes his head against me. “That was so fucking hard, Lila.” His voice is raw, shredded. “Seeing his parents, his brother…hearing them say goodbye to him… It was… I thought I was going to lose it.”

I don’t say anything, instead I just press my hand to the back of his neck, running my fingers through his freshly cut hair.

“He was my best friend,” Logan continues, his words muffled against me. “He had so much ahead of him. He didn’t deserve this.”

Tears sting my eyes, but I fight them back. He doesn’t need me to cry. He needs me to be strong for him. “No, he didn’t,” I say softly. “But he’d be so proud of you. The way you honored him today, Logan…I know he’d be proud.”

He pulls back just enough to look at me, his gray-blue eyes swimming with anguish. “I didn’t say enough. I couldn’t get the words out.”

“I know you said what mattered,” I tell him, brushing my thumbs over his cheeks. “You showed how much you loved him. That’s what everyone saw.”

His jaw tightens, and he looks away, a tear slipping down his cheek. “It’s not fair. None of this is fucking fair.”

“I know,” I whisper. “It’s not.”

For a long moment, we just stand there in silence. Then he pulls me into another hug, it’s almost desperate. He holds me like he’s afraid I’ll vanish, and I let him. I hold him just as tightly, my own tears finally spilling over.