Melvin let out a breath. “Yeah. Just processing.”
Mac nodded. “The handoff makes it real.”
“It makes it complicated,” Melvin said quietly.
Mac glanced down at Melvin’s hand. The silicone band a plain circle carrying more weight than a medal.
“Anyone say anything today?” Mac asked.
Melvin’s mouth twitched. “A couple of looks. A couple of swallowed comments.”
“And?”
“I didn’t move my hand. I didn’t hide it. I didn’t shrink.”
Mac felt something settle in his chest.
“You’ll wear it stateside,” Mac said quietly.
Melvin’s gaze warmed slightly. “I’ll wear it everywhere.”
Mac swallowed hard.
“Lucero’s going to flip when he sees it,” Melvin added.
Mac huffed. “He’ll demand to know why he wasn’t consulted.”
Melvin’s mouth curved. “He’ll say he called it first.”
“Did he?”
Melvin’s eyes flicked away briefly. “Probably.”
They stood in the quiet, listening to the compound settle.
Then Melvin spoke softly. “You know the weird part?”
“What?”
“I’m not scared of the war ending. I’m scared of what happens when I don’t have the war to blame everything on.”
Mac understood that too well.
The war made feelings feel inevitable. It made choices feel urgent. Home gave you space. And space was where doubts tried to grow.
Mac tipped his head toward him. “Then we don’t let doubt have space.”
Melvin’s gaze stayed on him. “How?”
“By deciding now,” Mac said. “Before we get there.”
Melvin’s jaw tightened. “We already decided.”
Mac nodded once. “Then we act like it.”
For the first time that day, Mac stepped closer.
Still not touching.
