My Brother's Keeper

My Brother’s Keeper KASEY VILLALOBOS Copyright © 2023 by Kasey Villalobos All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Created with Vellum Contents MayaChapter 1Chapter 2Chapter 3Chapter 4Chapter 5PaulChapter 6Chapter 7Chapter 8Chapter 9Chapter 10Chapter 11PaulChapter 12Chapter 13Chapter 14Chapter 15Chapter 16Chapter 17Chapter 18Chapter 19PaulChapter 20PaulChapter 21Chapter 22PaulChapter 23Chapter 24PaulMayaNever Miss a Release! Maya The call came in the dead of the night. An unknown number, followed by her brother’s voice. Thrice in a week, after years of no contact. Maya could hardly believe her damn luck. “Hey.” His voice sounded groggy. Mud and sand, swirled in a foggy glass. It made her conscious of what her own voice would sound like. There was gravel in her throat and her brain, rolling inside, leaving raw flesh behind. Everything felt raw. She had to cough first, a vain attempt to sound better than he did. A sharper voice meant a clearer mind. Maybe. “Have you been drinking, Paul?” A pause. She didn’t know if Paul drank. If it was her, she would’ve taken it as an insult, even after five years of sobriety. The thought of alcohol came tinged with pain—the sharp tang on the breath followed by a welt on the skin and a scream cut short. It implied trash, no matter where they were. No matter what Paul had done with his life. Trash that followed her all these years, stinking up every place she’d ever tried to make her home. “Are you awake?” he asked instead, deftly avoiding the loaded question like an acrobat at a trapeze. Give it to Paul to remember such intricacies. Ever the expert at deflection, Paul. Deflection and negotiation. He could have talked down an armed killer in a war zone. She eyed the digital clock on her bedstand. Her vision flickered over the digits. They were blurred, red dots in the distance—she was going to have to guess at the time. Or reach out and turn it at a better angle, but she couldn’t muster up the strength to even lift her arm. “I’m not asleep anymore, if that’s what you want to know,” she grumbled. “It’s way too early in the morning, Paul.” Probably right—the wet chill was in the air, on her arms. It was early in the morning, or she’d lost track of time again. Anyway, if she was wrong, Paul could correct her. He was good at that. “What do you want?” “I…” He hesitated. Deep breath, on the other side of the phone. Like he hadn’t quite decided yet what he wanted from her after all. He seemed to be on the cusp of telling her he just wanted to hear her voice. A part of her wanted him to say it. To remind herself he cared, after all. That at least one person in the world wanted her around unconditionally, no strings attached. No do this for me and I’ll do that for you, no waiting around to see if she’d done right just to deserve the slightest shred of affection. Her twin brother, once the better half of his soul. Did he still remember? Was he angry with her for what she’d done? Her heart was in her throat when he spoke again. “I need you to pick Jackson up from school tomorrow.” Annoyance replaced her wistful thinking. He called her in the middle of the night to get her to run errands. Years of no contact, and he calls her to run his errands. She should’ve known. What else did she expect? She lightly pounded the phone on her forehead first before letting out the sharpest whisper she could muster. “What the hell, Paul? Why?” “Cause I’ve got no one else.” He didn’t even sound embarrassed—he sounded flustered, like he’d been expecting her to say yes immediately and wasn’t sure how to respond now that she wasn’t. “Jesus, Maya, he can’t go home by himself. He’s just ten.” “Funny, that was never a problem for us when we were that age.” “The teachers won’t let him go off by himself, and if I insist on it I’m sure I’ll have Child Services at my door the next day. And you know I can’t risk that. You know I can’t risk that.” Maya was torn between laughing at his bald-faced request and sympathizing with his sentiments. The latter was putting it lightly. She understood, more than she cared to remember. “Get Ricardo to pick him up,” she said in a softer voice. She hated how that sounded to her own ears, and tried to pick up her sardonic tone once more. “Isn’t that what you pay him for? Your butler. Because heaven forbid a rich man not have a butler.” “He can’t. He’s busy. And no one else will do it. Never exactly got a babysitter who wanted to stick around, and I’m between them at the moment. And the housekeeper told me childcare isn’t in her job description, so she has no intentions of assisting me with Jackson, ever. Even with overtime pay.” “And where are you going to be?” He sighed. “Can you just tell me you’ll do it? Promise me.” “You’ve got a lot of nerve, Paul. Squeezing a promise out of me now, after all these years…” “Promise me you won’t let him be alone.” He just had to use those words. She couldn’t decide if he knew she knew he was goading her deliberately, or he was just that naïve. A little bit of both, knowing Paul. Or, well. If she knew him the way she used to. Things had changed too quickly, even back then, and now she didn’t know anymore. Life had turned upside-down in the last ninety-six hours. Maybe the man at the other end of this line wasn’t her brother after all.