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"I’ll line them up right in front of you," Bentley says, making sure that he stands the toy soldiers in a straight line on my side of the battlefield. "That's how we used to do it. It’ll be like old times."
I nod. “That’s exactly how I want it, too.”
Bentley sets up his red soldiers across from mine and then arranges my blue ones.
"Boom," he shouts, starting the game off by firing an invisible bullet into my fleet.
I chuckle as the invisible bullet sends my blue soldiers scattering in every direction and collapsing onto the floor.
"You think you're smart, don't you, Bentley," I say, a glint in my eyes.
"I know you are but what am I.” Bentley sticks out his tongue.
I smirk. "Just wait."
I pick up a handful of hay from the side of the loft.
I raise it high in the air and then sprinkle it all over the battlefield, dropping it on top of Bentley’s army.
"Hey!" Bentley’s jaw drops to his feet as I do this move. "What are you thinking? That’s cheating!”
I laugh. "Your soldiers ran into an unfortunate accident in battle, Bentley. They stumbled across fog and now they can't see anything. Unfortunately, all of the bullets and cannonballs they shoot out are going to go in the wrong direction from now on."
Bentley lets out a gasp as he tries to make his toy soldiers fire at mine.
My scheme works.
Bentley’s soldiers try to shoot mine, but their invisible bullets don't go anywhere near them.
The cannonballs and bullets smack into the floorboards and bales of hay and wreaths.
I seize the opportunity to attack Bentley’s fleet from behind.
Bentley glances up into my eyes, and all of a sudden, it’s like everything moves in slow motion once again.
A time warp envelops us.
We’re the same people we used to be before I went to prison.
My parents are still alive, probably telling jokes with my grandparents in the farmhouse right now and drinking wine in front of the fire.
My life is still normal, not disrupted by the horrible carjacker that ruined everything one night in New York City.
And Bentley is still mine, my amazing little brother who’s always cared about me and doesn’t judge me at all.
Nothing has changed.
I’m still the sixteen-year-old boy I was when I used to play with Bentley all those years ago and Bentley’s still my twelve-year-old little brother I love with all my heart.
"Where did you go, precious one?" Marcello strokes my side.
I smile. "Thinking about the past. About me and Bentley."
"You and Bentley need to have another playdate." Santino issues me a curt nod. "Here."
I can’t help but grin. "I know."
I tell my Daddies more about what went down. I confess that Roman filed a lawsuit against the state of New York for wrongful imprisonment—and the Manhattan DA sided with us.
