“Hey, Bro.” I tried to keep my voice steady, play it cool.
“Hey. I’ve only got a few minutes here, but I wanted to check in on my favorite baby brother.” The phone crackled with every third word, but still the warmth in his voice came through loud and clear. His voice was deeper than mine, more naturally authoritative without trying. “How’s it going?”
“Fine.” Maybe the less I said, the better.
“Only fine?” Bruno’s tone shifted, concern replacing the easy warmth. “You okay?”
“Yeah, of course. Nothing for you to worry about.” I sped up, trying to convince both of us at the same time. “Job’s going well. They said they might have more hours for me.”
“Good. I knew when I told Juan about you needing work that you’d make me proud.”
“Trying.” God. Like I needed a reminder of all Bruno had done for me. He could have washed his hands of me a half dozen favors ago, but he was Bruno, full of patience and intrinsically good, a better person than I’d ever be. Jobs for a college dropout with an iffy record had been in short supply, but Bruno had leaned on his old buddy from high school to get me work in the online shipping warehouse. Decent hourly wage and health insurance, which had been the main incentive for me.
“Excellent. How’s the leg holding up?”
“Fine. I mean, it doesn’t really hurt these days,” I lied. Rehab on my surgically repaired leg was a work in expensive progress, but the last thing I was going to do was complain to a guy who routinely dodged actual bullets.
“You’re a fighter, that’s for damn sure. When I first saw you after the accident… Well, never mind that. Proud of you.”
And that right there was reason number one why I needed to get Bruno his cards back. He’d been my first call that terrible night, and never once had he complained about having to be the one to tell Mom or all the ways, big and small, that he’d had to help me in the months that followed.
“Thanks. And, uh…you hanging in there?” I never knew precisely how to ask about his work.
“Yup. You can tell Mom I’m keeping my head about me. Don’t worry her, but shit’s been real here.” There was an edge to his voice that hadn’t been there a second before, but then he exhaled hard. “Anyway, I’m hoping to get word that we’ll be heading back to the States soon. Can’t wait to see you both. Think you’ll be up for an Odyssey game?”
“Maybe,” I hedged, bile rising in my throat.
“It was fun, right? Nice to have something to do now that kicking the ball around is out…”
Soccer had been his sport first, then mine, and something we could always share. Except I’d gone and ruined that too.
“Yeah. It wasn’t bad. Fun game.”
“And you’re a natural. Got those killer reflexes left over from the field.”
Oh God. Panic joined the nausea party. A natural. George had said that too. And I’d been my usual cocky self and believed him. And look where that had gotten me.
“I’m not that great. Not like you.”
“Hey, you’ll get there. I’ll show you more about deck building when I’m home. We’ll go through all my cards, maybe have a beer now that you’re actually legal.”
“Sounds good.” I had no idea how I managed to get the reply out without croaking.
“Soon.” Bruno said the word like a prayer, and I knew he’d be in mine later. Real shit indeed. I wanted him home safe in the worst way.
“Soon,” I echoed. This was it. I really was going to retch now. I was a crap brother and worse human. Bruno had asked for one thing after all he’d done for me, and I’d fucked it up.
A voice sounded from near Bruno. “Lionetti. Gotta go, man.”
“Time’s up.” Bruno sounded weary, like Mom at the end of a long day. My chest ached as surely as if he’d landed a fist there. “Take care.”
“Stay safe, Bruno.” No way could I fess up, not right then, not with him heading out to God knew what danger.
“I try.” And then he was gone, and I was left holding the phone, my entire body hurting like I’d been laid flat on the asphalt. In a way I had. I had to get those cards back. Whatever it took. Even if it meant—
“Milo?” Jasper emerged from the back of the game shop, wearing a bulky duffel coat and carrying a backpack that appeared to be more colorful patches than canvas. “What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you.” I was too wrung out from the call with Bruno to come up with anything other than the truth.
“Figured.” Jasper’s voice was marginally less hostile than earlier. As before, he looked…different than last time I’d seen him. Older. Good in a way that I hadn’t been prepared for. Less scrawny for sure—more filled-out shoulders and defined arms that I’d tried like heck not to notice while he was stocking boxes. And failed miserably. His voice was more adult too. Firmer. “Was that Bruno on the phone?”