“Commander Kettering,” she said formally.

He shocked her by stepping forward and giving her a brief, warm hug. “Thanks for coming with Grif. He needed you today,” he said quietly.

She froze in shock. Just how much did Cal know about her and Griffin’s secret relationship? Crud. Maybe it wasn’t so secret after all.

“…holding up, Sherri? Did we prepare you enough?” Cal was asking.

She answered, “INDOC wasn’t bad. I’ll let you know how BUD/S goes.”

“Any problems with the instructors?” he asked.

“Not that I’m aware of. A few students have hassled me, but I’ve handled them.”

“So I hear,” Kettering replied.

Her gaze snapped to his. “Do tell.”

He smiled. “I get twice-weekly reports on your progress.”

“From whom?”

“I have my sources.”

She would have pushed for a name, but the funeral was getting ready to start. They took their places in the standing-room-only service. It was a sad affair. The death of a bright, talented man taken far too young and far too soon couldn’t be anything but tragic.

Griffin radiated pain beside her, and she reached out to hold his hand as the service continued. He stood perfectly still, his face a stony mask.

A lone bugler stepped forward to play “Taps.” The somber notes rolled across the rows of white marble headstones stretching away in all directions, sweet and plaintive, calling a fallen warrior home to rest for the last time.

Sherri felt tears rolling down her cheeks and didn’t bother to reach up to wipe them away. She wasn’t ashamed to cry for Sam. She also cried for the pain of his brothers, all these strong, stern men suffering in silence.

The United States flag was lifted from Sam’s casket, folded into a triangle, and solemnly presented to Sam’s mother, who bowed her head over it and cried quietly. Sherri’s heart broke for her, especially.

And then Griffin leaned close to whisper, “I need that trident now.”

She handed it to him and watched him step away, joining a line of men forming near Sam’s casket. Cal Kettering, as Sam’s commanding officer, went first. He stepped up to the casket, bowed his head for a moment of silent farewell, and then slapped his hand down hard on the wooden top of the casket. The accompanying crack of noise made Sherri jump. It echoed out across the hillside and fell away into silence. Kettering lifted his hand away, and a trident was embedded in the wooden lid of the casket.

The next man stepped up and did the same. One by one, the SEALs paid tribute to their fallen brother. Rows of golden tridents covered the top of the casket before they finished, dozens of them, final farewells to one of their own.

The funeral ended, and Griffin came back to her side, tear tracks evident on his face. He didn’t wipe them away, either.