His phone buzzed. A text from the facility.
Release processed. Robin Pracher is ready for pickup.
Rolani’s heart jumped. He sat up and turned the music back up, letting it knock while he waited.
A few minutes later, the doors opened.
Robin stepped out into the sunlight, and Rolani felt his stomach drop to his feet.
He looked different. Bigger, harder around the edges. His locs were longer, pulled back in a ponytail. The beard was fuller. But it was the eyes that got Rolani, like Robin had learned to look at everything twice before deciding it was safe.
Hazel eyes scanned the parking lot. When he spotted the Silverado, he stopped walking. One second, maybe two. Then the grin came, wide and genuine, the brother Rolani grew up with showing his face for the first time since he stepped out those doors.
Rolani was out of the truck before he realized he’d moved.
They met in the middle, arms wrapping tight, holding on. No words needed.
“Missed you, man.” Robin’s voice was thick.
“Missed you too, li’l bro.” Rolani pulled back and gripped him by the shoulders, looking him over the way you looked at someone you needed to confirm was real and standing in front of you. Then his eyes dropped to the clothes.
Robin was standing in the same fit he’d been wearing the day Rolani got that call. He’d been at the first SLV location showing Grim around when his phone blew up. He remembered driving to Luther’s with his heart already hammering, remembered seeing Robin being walked out in his chef coat — that white coat he wore every time he worked — looking confused and small in a way Rolani had never seen his brother look before.
He’d stood in that parking lot and become a father, a lawyer, and a fixer all at once because that’s what the moment required.
Robin hadn’t seen any of that. Hadn’t seen Rolani hold Monroe while she went stone silent for a week. Hadn’t seen Rolani drive home that night and sit in his car for thirty minutes before going inside because he didn’t know how to walk through a door without his brother somewhere in the world being okay. Two years of that. Two years of carrying what Robin couldn’t see from inside.
He wasn’t going to say any of it. Not today.
“You good?”
“I’m free. So yeah, I’m good.” Robin laughed, shaking his head. “Man, I can’t believe this shit. I’m really out.”
“Come on,” Rolani said. “I have something for you before we do anything else.”
Robin climbed into the truck and immediately leaned back, eyes closing for a moment, letting the leather seat hold him. Rolani pulled out of the lot without a word, turned First Day Out back up, and let it play.
Robin rolled the window down and stuck his arm out. “Yo, this feels crazy. Like, I forgot what real wind felt like. Not that stale air in there. Musty ass niggas.”
“Take your time with it.”
Rolani got on the highway and let Robin exist for a few miles. No questions, no conversation. The music, the open road, his brother breathing free air. He was still wrapping his head around that.
After a while, Robin spoke. “So what you got planned? Party? Strippers? Food? Shopping?”
“Nah, not yet, and hell no on the strippers. Ken ain’t playing that.” Rolani glanced at him. “I got a surprise for you. And then I’ll take you to the first place you wanted to go.”
Robin went quiet. The playfulness faded from his face, eyes moving back to the window. “I hate that I didn’t get to say goodbye. That’s always gonna fuck with me.”
“You can now. We do this, and then we party and kick it.”
Rolani turned the music back up, and they drove in silence. The mood shifted, but not heavily. Brothers together again, leaving the past behind.
“Bro, thank you,” Robin said finally, voice quiet, looking straight ahead.
“Don’t start that shit. No thanks needed. You my family. If not me, who?”
“I hear you. But accept your flowers, nigga. I appreciate you for stepping up for Monroe, handling my business, all of it. You looked out. If you ever need anything from me, don’t hesitate. That’s all I’m saying.”
