Page 134 of Rescuing Ally: Part 2
“He was a good man,” Forest says simply. “Deserves to be sent off right.”
That evening, someone—I never figure out who—suggests we have a proper toast. Not the quick, desperate words we’ve been sharing, but something formal. Something worthy of the man we lost.
Walt produces a bottle of bourbon from somewhere. “Figured this qualifies.”
We gather in a rough circle, plastic cups in hand. The bourbon burns going down, but the warmth that follows feels like courage taking root.
“To Hank.” Ethan raises his cup first. “Who never let the team down, no matter what the mission threw at us.”
“To Hank,” Carter echoes. “Who never asked us to do anything he wouldn’t do himself.”
“To the man who could field-strip a rifle in thirty seconds but took an hour to pick a movie,” Blake adds, earning soft laughter.
One by one, they share memories. Stories I’ve never heard, moments that happened in the field before I knew them. I learn that Hank once carried a wounded teammate three miles through enemy territory. That he never missed a shot when it mattered. That he sent money to the widow of a soldier killed on a joint operation, even though it wasn’t his responsibility.
When it’s my turn, the words stick in my throat. How do you summarize a man who became your foundation? How do you toast someone who taught you that love could be shared without being diminished?
“To Hank,” I finally manage. “Who showed me what it meant to be cherished. Who made me believe I was worth fighting for.”
“To the man who held us together.” Gabe’s voice cracks as he speaks. “Who forgave me when I didn’t deserve it. Who died believing in us when I’d stopped believing in myself.”
We drink in silence after that, letting the bourbon and the words settle. Outside, rain continues to fall, but inside this circle of grief and love, something like peace takes root.
“He’d want us to be happy,” Jenna says softly. “All of us. He’d want us to build something good from this.”
“He’d want us to take care of each other,” Mia adds.
“He’d want us to remember that love doesn’t die just because people do,” Rebel finishes.
The truth lands hard—like breath knocked from my lungs, leaving me raw and exposed. Hank isn’t really gone, not if we carry forward what he taught us. The way he loved—fiercely, completely, without reservation—that lives on in every choice we make.
Gabe’s hand finds mine under the table, squeezes once. A promise. A commitment. A recognition that tomorrow we start the impossible task of learning to live without the best of us.
But tonight, we remember. Tonight, we honor what was and begin to imagine what could be.
FORTY-FOUR
Where Three Became Two
ALLY
Morning comes gray and cold,the kind of weather that seeps into your bones and stays there. I stand at the rail watching the familiar coastline emerge from mist, and my chest tightens with each mile that brings us closer to a life that doesn’t include Hank.
“There.” Gabe points toward the dock where a small group has gathered. Guardian personnel in dark suits. A black vehicle waiting to carry Hank away from us one final time.
The trawler’s engines downshift as we approach the pier, their pitch dropping like a sigh. Dockhands move with quiet efficiency, lines thrown and caught, metal groaning against wood as the vessel eases into place. The mechanical routine of arrival unfolds, indifferent to the fact that my heart’s tearing itself apart behind my ribs.
We gather near the stern—what’s left of us.
The women flank me, bruised and broken and standing anyway. Malia, arm in a sling, eyes fierce with unshed tears. Rebel with her jaw swollen, stitches stark against mottled skin. Stitch leans on Jeb, who holds her like he’d take every lash forher if he could. Jenna’s bandaged hand finds mine. Mia sways slightly beside Rigel, his arm wrapped tight around her waist.
And Gabe. At my side. Silent. Haunted. Not touching me, but I feel him anyway—his grief sharp and serrated, the storm he refuses to let loose.
Footsteps sound behind us—boots, six pairs. The men step forward together. Ethan. Jeb. Rigel. Carter. Blake. Walt. No words spoken. No discussion. They decided this quietly. Without asking. Without telling Gabe. So he could stay with me.
They move through the tight corridor to the small, cold room below deck.
And then they return.
