“I tried to call her this morning.” I pressed the packet flatter than it needed to be. “She didn’t answer.”
She’s mad at me.
“She’ll pick up,” he said.
I nodded, because she would.Eventually.I just wasn’t sure what version of grief would be on the other line.
“I mean… have you talked to her? Is she sleeping? She usually doesn’t after?—”
“She’s sleeping, kiddo. I saw the kitchen light go out around eleven.”
“You don’t have to sugarcoat it, Otto. I’m not a kid anymore.”
His mustache twitched with the start of a smile. “You are to me. Still that same kid who took out my mailbox with his bike.”
“Abel called me a shit driver. Mom shoved a bar of soap in his mouth.”
God.
My hand curled toward my chest, pressing against the ache that bloomed under my ribs.
Even the happy memories hurt.
“Listen.” He tapped the back of my hand where I was wrecking the sugar packet. “You don’t have to process things the same way your mama does.”
“She called you though? When the article dropped.”
“When it was reported, actually. She’s got the scanner on again.”
I used to fall asleep to that thing humming through the house—dispatch chatter bleeding under my door, voices I didn’t know saying names I never forgot.
“I checked in with the precinct,” he went on. “They sent the file over.”
“And?”
“Seven-year-old boy. Next county over.”
“Jesus.”
He pressed his hand once into my shoulder. “That’s where it stops. Nothing else lines up.”
“You’re sure?"
“It’s not connected, kiddo,” he swore. “Just reads close on paper.”
The sugar packet collapsed in my hand.
“Your mom’s just trying to stay ahead of it. Gives her something to hold on to. Doesn’t mean you have to pick it up with her. You’re allowed to let some of it pass.”
The waitress stepped in, dropping a crumpled brown bag onto the counter with a soft thud. The top was folded over too tight, grease already bleeding through in dark spots.
“Order for Keller,” she barked.
Otto reached for it, smoothing the crease down with his palm, like he could fix the way it had been handled just by touching it.
He always did that—made things look steadier than they actually were.
“Tell her I’ll stop by later,” I said.
