Dustin stood in the Rainbow Room, Steve’s words still echoing louder than the punch.

The cracked radio lay among overturned chairs. Eddie would've joked it still worked if you hit it hard enough. Anger came easier than grief. Steve was wrong. Eddie mattered. You don't lose a foundation and expect the house to stand.

Dustin picked up the radio carefully. The damage looked fixable. Almost everything was, if you survived long enough. Fear lingered beneath the anger, but resolve settled over it. He wiped blood and dust from his hands and straightened.

“For Eddie,” he muttered.