HARRISON
I try to speak again, but Gavin’s already turning away, hands on his hips, pacing in a tight line like he’s about to explode. And maybe he will. Because everything in him is cracked right now. He’s not just angry. He’s trying not to fall apart in front of the only people who’ve seen him broken before.
Jack watches him. I watch both of them. And for a second, everything in the room is heat and tension and unspoken grief.
No one says anything else. The worst part isn’t the yelling. It’s the silence after. When no one knows what to say next, because everything that could have been said was said too loud, too fast, and too damn personal.
Gavin’s back to pacing, but slower now. Like his body still hasn’t figured out how to calm down. Jack’s near the catering carts, arms crossed, ja
