“Yeah,” Melvin said. “Still sucks.”
Mac let his hand brush Melvin’s elbow as they walked. Barely a touch. “I’ll see you out there,” he said.
Then he walked on. He felt Melvin watching him. Back in uniform. Back to pretending.
The office was too quiet that evening. Mac worked through reports. Convoy routes. Fuel logs. Readiness charts. The work had rules. The silence didn’t.
Crawford stepped in around 1800.
“Fuel report’s late. Again.”
Mac kept his eyes on the desk. “Gonzalez is chasing it.”
Marcus lingered. “Holding up?”
Mac glanced up. “By what metric?”
Marcus leaned against the doorframe. “You’ve been back a day and already look like you got dragged behind a supply truck.”
“I’m fine.”
Marcus studied him. “Remember what I told you. About not wasting what you’ve got?”
“I remember.”
“Then stop acting like it’s not real.”
Mac looked down again. “I’m not. I just don’t know how to have it and keep it safe.”
Marcus’s voice softened. “You don’t have to figure it out today. Just don’t go so far into your own head that you lose the thing that pulled you out of it.”
Mac nodded once. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
Marcus paused at the door. “And don’t wear the XO title like armor. You’re allowed to be a person.”
The door clicked shut.
Night came cooler. Mac sat on a crate outside the barracks with a cigarette burning low between his fingers. Footsteps approached. He knew who it was before he looked up. Melvin.
Melvin stopped in front of him. “Didn’t see you at dinner.”
Mac kept his head down. “Wasn’t hungry.”
Melvin stayed quiet. “Everything alright?”
“Yeah.”
Too fast.
“You want space I’ll give it,” Melvin said. “But don’t lie to me.”
Mac flicked ash into the dirt. “It’s not you. Today just hit different.”
Melvin sat beside him. Not too close. “Chow hall?”
Mac nodded. “Everyone laughing. Grabbing each other’s shoulders. Just free.”
