Page 100 of Nothing Special X: The Last Stand

Life revolved in neat little loops around him.

Lawns got cut. Dogs barked. Sprinklers clicked on. Neighbors waved to each other.

People came home from work, carried groceries, went for walks, grilled outside, kissed spouses in their doorways, before disappearing behind lit windows.

Syn watched it all like a half-dead zombie.

It was almost six when Ro came up the walkway from his truck with his gym bag slung over his shoulder, skin damp, T-shirt clinging to his chest, blue eyes narrowed against the low sun.

He paused at the bottom of the porch steps and looked at him.

Syn didn’t look back.

Ro climbed the five steps slowly, the boards creaking under his weight. He set the gym bag near the door and leaned one shoulder against the post with his arms folded.

“You want chicken or pasta for dinner?”

Syn shook his head.

“That wasn’t one of the options.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You haven’t been hungry in days.”

“A man can go three months without eating.”

Ro huffed. “Come on, Sarge.”

Syn clenched his jaw.

He loved Ro. He did. He was family. His brother, first officer, pain in his ass, and one of his emergency contacts. But he wasn’t in the mood to hear his voice of reason.

Ro sat in the porch chair beside him instead of standing over him.

“You can’t sit out here forever.”

Syn stared at the house across the street. “Sure I can.”

Ro sighed. “You haven’t checked on the shop, answered any calls or texts.”

“I’m on vacation.”

“That’s cute.”

Syn swallowed against the dry ache in his throat.

Ro leaned forward. “I’m not saying go home tonight. I’m not saying forgive him because— ”

“Enough,” he glared.

“Enough what?” Ro glared back.

“Enough defending him.”

“I’m not defending what he did.”

“Yes, you are.”