Page 86 of The Long Way Found

"Good course about thirty minutes from here. Played it back in the old days. We should go out tomorrow if you're free."

"Yeah. I'd like that."

More silence. Not uncomfortable, just careful. The way it had always been between them.

"You've done well, Jack," his father said at last. "The Army was good for you. This job—Hallicks speaks highly of you."

"Thanks."

"But you’re right. You've been running hard your whole life. At some point, a man needs to plant his flag and say, 'this is mine.'"

Jack looked at his father. "Is that what you did? With all the moves, all the bases?"

The Colonel was quiet for a moment. "No," he said finally. "I didn't. And I regret that. Your mother deserved better. You deserved better. But that was part of the deal I made—that we made, your mother and I, together."

Jack stopped walking. His father had never been so rueful in front of him.

"A military kid never really has a home," The Colonel continued. "It built character, taught you how to adapt to new situations, but…”

“But maybe it taught me to keep looking for new situations, too.”

"Now you’re in a new situation in an old place,” his father said. “With an old friend, sounds like.”

Jack’s throat tightened around the words, but he got them out clearly, and his chest rose when he said, “More than friend, Dad.”

"I didn't handle that well," his father said. "Told you to focus on getting into West Point and keeping your head down." He paused. "I wasn't wrong about the strategy. Don't Ask, Don't Tell was real. West Point is unforgiving. You needed to compartmentalize to survive."

"I know."

"But I could've been... kinder about it. Could've acknowledged what you were giving up instead of just telling you it was for your own good."

Jack stared at his father. In forty-two years, he'd never heard the man come this close to an apology.

"You did what you thought was right," Jack said finally.

"I did. The right choice can still come with a cost."

They walked in silence for another block.

"So let me ask you again,” the Colonel said. “What are you waiting on?”

"I don't know yet."

"Yes, you do."

Jack looked at him.

"You've known since you drove into this town," his father said. "But you're afraid to say it out loud."

"Maybe."

The Colonel clapped him on the shoulder—brief, firm. "Golf tomorrow. 9 a.m. Don't be late."

"Yes, Sir."

They walked back to the hotel together. For the first time in Jack's life, walking beside his father didn't feel like standing at attention.

It almost felt like walking beside a friend.