“You ever fish?” Melvin asked.
Mac huffed. “Not since I was a kid. My dad thought bobbers were for amateurs.”
Melvin told him about early mornings with his grandfather. Fog on the lake. A thermos that always showed up.
Mac listened. He understood that kind of quiet loyalty.
“That’s when I started paying attention,” Melvin said. “To who shows up. Who stays.”
Mac nodded. That hit close. They walked in silence. Melvin settled into his awareness like something that had always belonged there. That unsettled him.
At the barracks, Melvin slowed at his door.
Mac should have said goodnight. Instead, he said, “Don’t go in yet.”
Melvin turned, attention sharpening.
Mac swallowed. His throat felt tight and dry. “I… don’t want to sit with it alone tonight.” He hated how honest that sounded. Hated how much it meant.
Melvin didn’t hesitate. “Okay.”
They went into Mac’s room without turning on the overhead light. Mac sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees. The wolf pressed heavy behind his ribs. Not angry. Just hurting. Melvin sat across from him, matching posture without thinking.
“You ever lose someone before?” Melvin asked.
Mac looked up at him. “You already know the answer to that.”
Melvin didn’t argue. “Hall reminded me of them,” Mac said. “Some people don’t belong in places like this.”
Melvin rested a hand on his forearm.
The contact landed deeper than it should have. Something quiet moved through him, unfamiliar but steady, like his body recognized the touch before his mind did. Mac’s breath caught. He didn’t pull away.
“You carry it,” Melvin said. “And you keep going.”
“I don’t talk about this.”
“You are now.”
Mac stared at him, stunned by how simple Melvin made it. Like grief wasn’t weakness. Like being seen wasn’t a threat. “This feels different.”
“I feel it too.” Melvin replied. The words settled between them, heavier than they should have been.
Silence thickened.
Mac’s hand lifted and settled over Melvin’s. Deliberate. The wolf went still. “You know the rules,” Mac said quietly.
“Yeah.”
“So do I.”
He swallowed once. “I’m not just an officer. Not just human.” Melvin didn’t look surprised.
“I know.”
Mac frowned. “How?”
Melvin hesitated, then answered in a way that didn’t force Mac to say anything he couldn’t. “You smell like you’ve been holding your breath for years,” Melvin said. “And you move like you hear things other people don’t.”
