The Charlotte Chronicles (Jackson Boys 1)

“Shit, didn’t even know you were dating anyone.”

“It’s the letter girl, right?” Bride offers.

“Who’s the letter girl?” asks Elison. He doesn’t know my history with Charlotte—unlike Cabby who’s been with me through BUD/S, the naval school where they try to sort out the SEALs from the wannabes by trying to kill you every day. Cabby stares at me like I’m half out of my mind. And I am. No question. I won’t ever be right again if I don’t get Charlotte back.

With a sigh, he turns away and redirects attention at Elison. “Ensign, we need to give you a nickname.”

Elison sits up straighter. A nickname means he belongs.

“I’m leaning toward Howdy Doody,” I offer.

“Fuck you, Jackson,” he retorts, which is good. We don’t want a mealy mouthbreather serving with us.

“He doesn’t do that,” Bride laughs.

Elison immediately colors and stammers out an apology. “I-I-I didn’t mean it like that. And if you are gay, I’m okay with that. Not that you have to tell me. It wasn’t an advance. I wasn’t coming on to you.”

This makes Bride laugh all the more. “Don’t you know why we call Jackson Monk, Howdy?”

His blushing makes the nickname stick, and as Elison’s face falls in dismay, he mutters a little sullenly, “No.”

“Because in all the time he’s been on the teams, he’s never touched a person. Not a guy or a girl, isn’t that right, Monk?” Bride says. He used to sneer it, but after a few fists in the face and then a lot of liquor afterwards, we’d come to an understanding. We didn’t talk about my sex life . . . until now I guess. I let it go because he isn’t wrong.

I’ve had plenty of opportunity. Every SEAL does. There’s always someone out there who wants to say they banged an elite warrior and many who look at us as tickets out of whatever poor circumstances they’re in, only to find that it was better to be single than tied to a guy who is gone half the year on secretive missions that he could never talk about. A guy who spends more time with his SEAL team members than his own family. Lots of women got sick and tired of that quick.

I’d tried a few times. I’d accepted a few women’s invitations to their homes or apartments or hotel rooms, but ultimately I’d left them dissatisfied and angry. As for me, each time renewed my belief that celibacy was my punishment. I’d turned my back on Charlotte. My unwillingness to follow through with any other woman has to do with the fact that while I was able to walk away from her, every part of me—including my stupid cock—still believes we belong to Charlotte Randolph.

“So is it the letter girl?” Elison is the only one brave enough to ask. He doesn’t know better, but I don’t care–not at this point.

“It’s the letter girl,” I affirm.

“Will she say yes?”

“Am I not a SEAL that knows how to plan, execute said plan, and achieve my objective?” I mock, but my anger is self-directed.

Elison nods his head. Truthfully, I think she’ll say no, but I’ll keep asking until I am too old to form words and my body is dust.

* * *

After we land, after we are debriefed, after we are given instructions on our next training session and then debriefed again, I am free. I drive to the only jewelry store I know of, look at a bunch of sparkly things, and then got distracted by a head of blonde hair flying by the store windows. Deciding that today is not the day to make this decision, I call Nick.

“Hey, big bro! Good to hear your voice.” His relief is evident although unstated. I know he worries—that they all do. I wonder if she still does.

“I was thinking about coming out. I’ve got shore leave starting in a couple of days.”

“That’d be awesome. I’m back at camp, but I’m sure you can find something to do to occupy your time.”

“Great. I’m booking a flight right now.” I hesitate because I’m going to ask him about Charlotte—a subject that has been off limits for a couple of years now, since we got into a fight about how I never should have started that shit with her. “Is anyone else in the family around?” I ask casually but he knows. We’re brothers. How could he not?

“Charlie? She’s actually close to you. A boy of hers got traded to the SD Commandants . . . in fact, I got a call from her the other day. You got shit to tell me?”

Charlie? That’s what the Reese fuckhead called her. “Since when has Charlotte suddenly got a boy’s nickname?” I’m annoyed and ignore the rest of the question.

“Since when do you care?” he shoots back. “And answer the goddamned question. Are you bringing home some girl to Mom?”