Carefully.
Not because I was calm.
Because glass breaks when you forget your own strength.
“I walked out,” I said, “because I had orders.”
Mason scoffed.
“You had orders.”
“Yes.”
“From who? Office Depot?”
One of the younger Marines flinched.
Not because the joke was cruel.
Because Maddox did.
I turned my head slightly toward my brother.
“Mason, you’re about to embarrass yourself in front of men who respect you. Stop.”
His face flushed.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Use that voice. Like you’re Mom.”
The table became very still.
That one landed somewhere neither of us expected.
Maddox looked down.
The young Marines looked anywhere else.
Mason’s eyes shone with beer and old grief.
“You always did that,” he said. “Acted like you were in charge. Like you knew more. Like you were the adult.”
“I was twelve.”
“I was nine.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t know.”
