I left early in the morning, before I heard any activity in Julia’s apartment through the walls. I was surprised by how much sound passes through the thin walls, but I drew the line at pressing my ear to it and listening. Overprotective, maybe, but I’m not a creep. Now, if she invites some asshole over to her place, I might have to break that rule to figure out when I need to knock and interrupt them. It’s a random thought, but it twists my gut. She has moved on. The longing I’ve felt for her is one-sided. She has a fucking kid. I’d be an idiot if I didn’t at least consider the possibility that it’s mine. The age would be about right, but I have no idea what she did after I left. For all I know she had wild, unprotected rebound sex the night I left. Could I blame her?

Fuck. I clench my fists, wanting to hit something. She’s within her rights to fuck whoever she wants now, she always has been, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to break something.

I think back to how I felt when I was talking to Roman. I’ve never had a connection with little kids before, but I guess knowing he was hers made me want to do whatever I could to protect him, to help make him into a strong young man, to be there for him. Not your job, Leo. The kid might have looked like me a little, but I feel like that’s a stretch. All I really see in him is Julia. Then again, I’ve been seeing her everywhere since I walked away four years ago.

I park my car outside Angelo’s new place. He’s staying in a nice apartment the Bianchis put him up in. Four bedrooms, two baths, and the guy doesn’t even own a fucking cat. He’s on the fourth floor, and I find him sitting in a fold-out chair, throwing a baseball against the brick wall. His eyes find me but he shows no reaction.

“Where you been?” he asks. “Almost 24 hours I’ve been here and you haven’t so much as called. Were you off chasing that pussy?”

“The fuck are you doing?” I ask. “Go get a couch or some shit. You look like a crazy person, Angelo.” I realize what a hypocrite I am a second later. The place I rented beside Julia’s is equally bare.

He looks around, as if noticing for the first time. “Yeah, Carlito was going to meet up with me to go check some things out, but he flaked on me.”

“You surprised?”

Angelo palms the baseball, picking at the stitches. “Nah. Not anymore.” He tosses the ball in the air, following it intently with his eyes. He purses his lips. “Maybe. Maybe I’m a little surprised. I thought coming back here and getting back in our old life would help him clean up. But it’s just the same shit.”

I move to the wall across from him and slide down, sitting on the ground. “You know what people do when they’re drowning? They’ll grab at any fucking thing they can to keep afloat. Once it reaches a certain point, there’s no thought to it. It’s just survival. They’ll take you down with them in a heartbeat. They’ll fucking hold you under just so they can push off you and get a few more breaths.” I meet his eyes and don’t look away until he nods slowly, proving he understands.

Angelo thinks for a long moment. “And what if he’s not drowning yet? You know? What if he’s still swimming toward the deep end.”

“We had to kill two people because of his drug deal the other night, and he didn’t even bat an eyelash.”

“I’ve seen you kill plenty of people in the last few years, man. You never seem too bothered by it.” There’s a question in his eye, like it’s something he’s been meaning to ask. How do you do it? How do you not let it get to you?

I feel a swelling of emotion toward my little brother. How did I not see how badly he needed my help before? “I’ve been shitty to you…”

He frowns, confused. “Since when? You went to jail for me. You spent four years on the run because of me.”

It’s the first time he’s come close to apologizing, but I wasn’t waiting for it. He doesn’t need to apologize to me. He’s a man who makes his own decisions just like I am. If I had chosen to let him clean up this mess on his own he would’ve accepted that, no question.

“Being a good brother is more than just hitting anybody who tries to hurt you.” I shake my head, searching for the words. “Look. I don’t want you thinking killing people doesn’t get to me. You know what I think about every night before I go to sleep? I think about how every life is like a web. You don’t just snuff one person out of existence and that’s that. People have wives, kids, parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, friends, all that shit. One dead person and a whole boat load of fucked up lives. That’s what I think about.”

“I just think about what it must be like. The moment you know it’s over. You know? I mean sometimes it’s quick. Get them in the right spot in the head and they go down before they know what happened, but not always. Shit, remember the guy in Hillsboro? I thought he was never going to stop bleeding and coughing.” Angelo laughs, but it’s a hollow sound, and his eyes are distant, brows drawn together. “Just makes you wonder what that’s like. You’re sitting there bleeding your guts out and knowing it’s all over. Everything you spent so much energy caring about doesn’t matter anymore. Gets me to start thinking about how it’s going to be us one day.”

I move to him and clap him on the shoulder, yanking him up so I can hug him. “That shit’s normal, bud. You’re supposed to think about that. I should’ve told you that when we got into this business, but I’m telling you now. Killing people isn’t something the human mind was made to accept. If this wasn’t getting to you, I’d be worried. Okay?” I pull back, holding him at arm’s length and searching his face. “Okay?”

He nods, but doesn’t meet my eye. “Yeah. Thanks, bro.”