NICO
Milo is sitting up awkwardly in bed, attached to the halo thing that’s screwed into his head and a million other machines. It’s completely overwhelming to see him that way. I got only a minute with him while my mom was there, too, so it wasn’t the right time to apologize for being partially responsible for putting him in the ICU. I’m trying to stay focused on the positives. Jason expects him to make a full recovery, but it’ll take time and physical therapy. It could take as long as six months for him to get back to where he was before he volunteered to take my rides.
Six fucking months.
They say no good deed goes unpunished. If that ain’t the truth.
I wish I had some way to deal with the white-hot anger I feel toward the men who put my brother in the hospital. I want them to suffer the way he is, but I keep those thoughts to myself, as the last thing my family needs is more trouble brought to them through me.
But I’m fuming just the same, strung so tightly that vengeance is almost all I can think about even as I go through the motions at work. We’re down a car after the shooting, so I’ve doubled up on rides, which keeps me so busy, I don’t have much time to plot revenge that I won’t get to pursue.
I need to keep my eye on the things I can control, including my relationships with Sofia and Mateo, my brother and his needs, my parents and their needs, my business, my home, my extended family and the wide circle of friends who’ve been checking in, bringing food and offering whatever help we need.
I like that Sofia is seeing the way our family and friends come together at difficult times. In a way, the outpouring reminds me of the days that followed the death of Carmen’s first husband, Tony, a police officer gunned down on the job. That was one of the worst things that ever happened to us, if not the very worst thing. We were devastated to lose a young man who’d been one of us for years.
Thinking about the dreadful weeks that followed Tony’s death makes me even more thankful my brother survived. As bad as this is, I’m well aware of how much worse it could’ve been.
My phone rings, and I take the call from my dad on Bluetooth. “Hey, what’s up? Is Milo okay?”
“Yeah, he’s good. He’s been asleep for a couple of hours. We sent everyone else home, but Mommy and I are waiting to see him again before we go.”
“Don’t wear yourselves out. It’s going to be a long haul.”
“As long as he’s okay, we’re okay. But we’re worried about you.”
“About me? What the heck for? I’m not the one who got shot.”
“No, but you’re the one thinking it should’ve been you.”
“Well, it should’ve been me. Why didn’t I think about how they’d already come at me once before?”
“Are you beating yourself up for not thinking like a criminal?”
“No, I’m beating myself up because my little brother took a bullet that was meant for me. We almost lost him, Dad. If Jason hadn’t been there…”
“I know, son. We got very lucky. And I understand why you feel the way you do. Hell, I’d feel the same way if Vincent took a bullet that was meant for me. I’d probably never forgive myself.”
“I’ll never forgive myself for letting this happen to him.”
“What good will that do, though? Will it change what’s happened?”
“No, but—”
“No buts, son. Your rage, your thirst for revenge, your regrets… None of that will change what happened, but I can promise you all those things will make it worse, and not just for you, but for everyone who cares about you.”
I’m momentarily stunned by how he’s zoomed right in on what I’m thinking and feeling. I let out a huff of laughter. “Are there any secrets in this family?”
“Not too many. I could see the rage simmering in you one second after you walked into the ICU waiting room today. I got to thinking how I’d feel if I were you and Vincent were Milo. I really, really do understand. I’d want to kill the people who hurt him.”
“Yeah.” I use my sleeve to brush away tears that infuriate me. I’m not one to sit in my car and cry over anything, but this… I could’ve lost Milo. I can’t imagine life without him.
“I truly get it, son, but vengeance won’t fix anything. It sure as hell won’t help Milo.”
“It would make me feel better.”
“For a minute or two, but your brother would still be in the hospital staring down a long recovery and needing you there with him, like you have been since the day he was born. Mommy and I were talking about that earlier, the day we brought him home and how you wouldn’t let anyone else hold him. You told the girls they had each other and Milo was yours and to get away from him.”
A sob escapes through my tightly clenched jaw. I remember that day vividly as one of the best days of my life. After two sisters, I finally had a brother.