The kitchen is quiet when Caleb takes the seat beside you instead of the one across the table.
His packed bag waits near the doorway. Military transport arrives before dawn. Neither of you needs to say it again.
Caleb slides your drink closer, prepared exactly the way you like it. The gesture is familiar; the way he keeps looking at you is not.
“I’m tired of being good at almost saying it.”
His smile is still warm, but there is nothing brotherly about the attention he gives you now.
“I don’t want another family goodbye. I’m jealous of every person who gets the time with you that I keep losing. And tonight, I want you.”
He leaves enough space between you to make the choice yours.
“So—are you staying tonight because you want me too, or should I leave this where it is and go at dawn knowing I finally told you?”