Page 81 of Enemy Within

“So, when I got home, I tried to talk to him. He wasn’t having any of it.” Anderson shook his head, seemingly lost in his memories. “My dad was hands-off with me, and I don’t really know how to do it any different. I was hands-off with him. It was right before Christmas.” His gaze landed on Jack, eagle-eyed. “You both made big headlines at Christmas.”

Jack’s lips thinned. He breathed in deep, through his nose, and stared at Anderson.

“I remember getting the paper and seeing you both on the front page, dancing together at the White House. Didn’t think anything of. Until.” He wagged his finger again, pointing at Jack. “Until I walked into my son’s room that night and I saw him staring at that picture of the two of you like it was the most amazing thing he’d ever seen.

“He’d cut it out of the paper. When he saw me, he hid it. Crumpled it up and buried it under his pillow. I tried to stop him, but he was frantic. Hyperventilating. Started crying and saying he was sorry, he was so sorry.”

Jack’s jaw trembled, and he covered his mouth with one hand as his eyes burned. He blinked fast.

“Turns out,” Anderson said slowly, “he was figuring a few things out about himself. Like how he was attracted to other boys. You’d become a hero to him, Mr. President. Someone he could look up to.”

That was it for his heart. Jack took a shaky breath, and a tear slipped down his cheek. He tried to stifle his tears, but failed. Ethan reached across the table and grasped his free hand as Jack shook his head. “I didn’t do anything.”

Anderson squinted at him. “You were a man my son could look at and see himself in. Someone who followed his heart, and was brave in the face of everything and everyone standing against him.” Anderson looked down at his lap. “He thought I’d be all kinds of upset. Thought that because I was military, I’d be against you, and thus, against him. We had a long talk that night. Almost all night long, in fact. I told him exactly what I thought of you, Mr. President. And you, Mr. First Gentleman.” He nodded to Ethan.

A slow smile unfurled over Anderson’s face. “Now, my son emails me every single day. He’s my best bud. I know about his friends, his hopes, his dreams. His homework. I know about the boy he wants to ask to prom.” Anderson chuckled, and then went quiet. He looked Jack dead in the eyes. “I have you to thank for that, Mr. President. You gave my son hope when he was lost. Gave him someone he could admire. Someone he needed.” He held up his glass, a silent toast.

Tears slid down Jack’s cheeks, searing his skin. He smiled at Anderson while clenching down on Ethan’s hand and wiping away his tears with the other. “I’m proud of your son,” he finally managed. “I know what it’s like, facing down what feels like the whole world to be who you are.”

“Mr. President, if there isanythingI can do for you, I will. Anything.”

“Please, call me Jack.” He was about to shake his head, to say that Anderson had already done more than enough when the thought went off like a rocket in the back of Jack’s mind. He looked down at his and Ethan’s hands. “Actually,” he said, smiling wide as he wiped the last tear from his cheek. “There is something I’d like to ask you, Captain.” On the tabletop, he laced his fingers through Ethan’s. Ethan’s ring gleamed, catching the light and scattering halos around their joined hands. “Ethan and I are engaged,” he started, “and we’re on a boat at sea.” His smile turned soft. “And you’re the captain.”

Ethan sucked in a breath. His eyes went wide. “Jack… Are you sure?”

“More than sure, Ethan. Let’s do this. I want to be Jack Spiers-Reichenbach. I want to face Madigan as your husband.”

Anderson set down his glass and turned to Jack. “I’ve never performed a marriage at sea. It’s not really in the job description for a submarine captain. But… I think I can figure out what to do.” Smiling, he added, “It would be the highest personal honor to marry the two of you.”

Silence. Jack bit his lip. Ethan stared at him, his jaw hanging open, but joy tumbled from his gaze.

“If we’re going to do this, we should do it sooner rather than later. We won’t have time once we get into the Bering Strait, and beyond that, we’re at war.” Anderson glanced at his wristwatch. “In fact, the best time would be now.” He looked from Jack to Ethan. “If that’s too soon, I understand—”

“No, it’s perfect.” Ethan spoke, and he rubbed his thumb over the back of Jack’s hand. “We’re both more than ready.”

“Is there anyone on board who you want to serve as witnesses? Or best man, even?”

Their eyes met. “I’ll get Scott,” Ethan said.

“I’ll get Sergey.”

Anderson stood. “Meet me in my cabin when you’ve got them.”

SCOTT TOOK ONE LOOK at Ethan when he showed up at the mess hall and threw his fork down on his tray, right in the middle of his applesauce. He sighed as he stood, holding his coffee cup like he might throw it at Ethan’s head. “What now? What have you done?”

Chiefs from the sub’s different departments sat with Scott. They had been eating, ribbing each other in the way that enlisted guys loved to. Back in the day, Scott bled Army green through and through, a salty, hard-edged noncommissioned officer. Even though this was the Navy, not the Army, being back with enlisted men was almost like a field trip for Scott.

The chiefs eyeballed him and Scott as he approached, walking unsteadily. Was the sub tilting? Was it turning over? Or was that just him and his jelly legs? He felt like a baby horse, all knock-kneed and unstable.

What must he look like, to put that look on Scott’s face?

He took a breath and exhaled. Took another. “I need you to come with me,” he finally grunted.

Scott’s face twisted into the look of grinding frustration with Ethan that only Scott could make, only after their decades of friendship. “What did youdo?” he groaned, gesturing with his cup. “Everything wasfineyesterday! You guys werecrazyon that beach—”

“The captain is going to marry us. I need you to be my best man.”

Scott’s jaw dropped. A moment later, so did his coffee cup, crashing to the deck.