The living room of Will Halstead’s apartment was warm with late afternoon light. A game hummed quietly on the TV, volume low, just enough to fill the space without demanding attention. Jay sat sideways in one of the chairs, legs stretched out, a beer in his hand, lazily watching the Cubs fumble their lead in the 7th inning.

Will was in the kitchen, elbow-deep in a bowl of chips, muttering to himself about the complete lack of salsa. “You’d think I had roommates with how fast food disappears around here.”

Jay smirked. “Maybe your fridge’s haunted.”

“More like I forgot I had a sister coming over,” Will said, grabbing a second beer and tossing it to his brother. “She’ll eat everything in sight.”

Jay caught it easily, cracked the top. “If she actually shows.”

Will glanced over, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t think she will?”

Jay shrugged, though there was a twitch of concern in his jaw. “You know how it is at 51. Shifts get extended, calls come in at the last second. She said she’d come by after, but I haven’t heard from her since this morning.”

Will walked back over and sat on the couch, sipping his drink. “She probably got stuck cleaning a rig again. Or covering for someone.”

Jay didn’t answer right away. He stared at the TV, though he wasn’t really watching.

“I just... don’t like not hearing from her. Especially when she’s out there running into burning buildings like it’s nothing.”

Will nodded slowly. “Yeah. I know. I’ve patched up enough of 51 to get the picture.”

Jay finally looked over. “She’s our baby sister, man.”

Will smiled, a little. “Yeah. And she’s tougher than both of us combined. Remember when she dislocated her shoulder in high school and still ran track the next day?”

“Yeah,” Jay chuckled. “And then lied to Mom and said it was ‘just sore.’”

They both laughed at that, the sound easing the edge of worry that had started to creep into the room.

But as the clock crept toward 6:15, and there was still no call, no text, no knock at the door, a new quiet settled between them.

Jay glanced at his phone again. Locked. No notifications.

Will leaned back, arms crossed. “Maybe we’re overthinking it.”