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There was a shout of assent from the floor above.
I frowned. “Nonna, that’s a bad idea. I can handle this mess myself. I’m the one who made it.”
“And who will make sure your nonno listens, eh?” she demanded, as she threw on her own camel-colored wool coat. She shook her head. “I’m not saying what you do is right. And I’m not saying that this boy is a good idea. But I don’t want you to run away either. If you’re going, I will come with you.”
I noticed that the one reason she didn’t give was being worried about her husband. She didn’t have to say it out loud. I felt the same way.
The frigid air bit at my cheeks as we trudged through the snow-covered streets toward the garage. Flurries still fell gently from the brightening sky, painting everything in a soft white blanket. It was eerily quiet, the only sound being the crunching of my boots against the icy pavement.
As we approached the familiar red door of Nonno’s garage, my heart was already pounding. There was a clear set of footprints leading to and from the front door, but only one. I prayed that Michael’s tracks had already been covered with snow, and he was still huddled inside where it was plenty warm.
Nonna handed me the key, and with shaky hands, I unlocked the door and opened it. The door creaked, revealing a dimly lit but empty garage complete with cars in progress, shelves stacked with tools and parts, and other equipment shoved against the walls.
It was almost as cold inside as outside, and I shivered involuntarily as I stepped inside.
“Michael?” I called.
No response.
“Mattias!” Nonna shouted.
The two cars being worked on remained silent.
The clip of Nonna’s boots on concrete echoed through the garage as she strode into the office and flipped on a light. No one was there, of course. I skittered up the stairs to Michael’s room, hoping the light was off because he was still asleep, not because no one was there.
No dice.
But he’d clearly been here. The room was empty and cold, but the bed was neatly made in the corner, and the few belongings he had were cleared out completely. Considering there were no tracks leading to or from the garage, that meant he had come and gone right after leaving the house this morning.
I returned downstairs to find Nonna waiting by the door.
“Where do you think they went?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I think the church. Father Deflorio sent Michael here in the beginning. Your nonno would go there to find him if he wasn’t here.” She pulled her gloves back on. “We will go home and wait.”
“But—” I started.
“Home,” she repeated in that tone that brooked no argument.
I reluctantly followed Nonna out of the garage, my mind spinning with worry and unanswered questions. But we’d barely started walking the longest two blocks ever back to the house before a voice called out from across the street.
“How you doin’, mami?”
I turned to find a familiar-looking man making his way through the snow, with two men trailing him.
I knew him. Or at least, I knew his sister, Gina.
“Paul?” I asked as he approached us. “Reyes, right?”
Nonna tugged on my sleeve, but I shook her away. Reyes’s companions circled outward to stand on either side of us, effectively caging us against the shop’s entrance.
Shit.
“That’s right,” Paul congratulated me. “Been a while since I was in high school, yeah?”
Swallowing hard, I nodded. “I was probably a freshman.”
Which meant there was no real way he would have known me back then.
