Melvin laughed. “Shut up.”
“I’m serious,” she said. “If he’s the real deal, don’t run just because it scares you a little.” Melvin stared at her.
“You hear me?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
Her smile softened. “And if he breaks your heart, I’ll hex his whole bloodline.”
“You don’t even do that.”
“You don’t know what I do.”
Melvin shook his head, warmth rising in his chest. “I miss you.”
“I miss you too.”
The screen stuttered. “I gotta go,” he said.
“I know.” She lifted her mug. “Love you, baby brother.”
“Love you too.”
She held his gaze one last moment. “Don’t lock yourself up so tight you forget you’re alive.” Then she added with a smirk, “And be careful. Dogs think they run the yard.”
The screen went black. Melvin sat there a long moment in the blue glow. His chest still felt tight. But not trapped. Just seen. He slipped the earbud out, smoothed his uniform, and stepped back into the hallway. His shoulders were a little straighter. Not because the world was lighter. Because someone who understood had finally heard him say it.
Chapter 9 - Melvin
The motor pool looked different at night. Blue-gray light. Long shadows under Humvees. The air cooler, but not soft. Everything felt heavier in the dark, like grief had more room to move. Melvin double-checked the dispatch log when he noticed Reynolds by the tool bench, just standing there. Not working. Not pacing. Still. Like he’d walked in and forgotten why.
“Reynolds?” Melvin called gently.
No answer.
Melvin approached slowly. “You alright?”
Reynolds blinked hard, like the world had been too far away. “Yeah. Yeah, I just forgot something. I’m good.”
But he wasn’t. His jaw was clenched. Shoulders tight. Left hand trembling against the bench. Melvin stood beside him long enough for the silence to become a choice. “You’ve been off,” Melvin said eventually. “Not just today.”
Reynolds exhaled through his nose. “I’m fine, sir.”
“Doesn’t look like fine.”
The quiet held them. Then Reynolds laughed, hollow and angry. “It’s stupid. I don’t even know what to be mad at.”
Melvin stayed still.
“I keep thinking about that damn Jell-O,” Reynolds said suddenly. “The last tray Hall grabbed. He made a joke. Something dumb. And I didn’t even laugh.”
His voice cracked. “I told him to move his ass and finish his checklist.”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Melvin said quietly.
Reynolds slammed his fist once, rattling the tools. “It feels like it does.”
Melvin waited.
