Under His Protection

Is this it? The beginning of the end.  Death stalks dumb men. The Reaper is patient, and is willing to play the long game in order to collect his final reward.  Am I a dumb man? Nothing more than a fool, happily strolling towards his own demise.  Nicolo Rastelli—my little brother, all grown up—walks beside me, his smile wide and dancing. Too pretty for his own damn good.  When the fuck did he grow up? What the hell is wrong with me that I’m noticing him in ways one brother should never notice another?  His fingers are laced with mine,...

Is this a dream? It has to be. None of this can possibly be real. Reality is cold and cruel, a merciless bitch with no thought or care for the suffering of mortals. Life is a living, breathing nightmare we all simply have to endure. Only, sometimes. It’s not.  I draw a shaky breath. “I missed you too.” Sebastian stands and pulls me to my feet before turning me around. “You hungry?” I shake my head as I look up, and up, and up. We always knew he’d be bigger than me, and here he is—built like a bruiser. So...

Something is seriously wrong with me.  Maybe over the last few years, owning my own MMA gym, training those who are willing to learn how to throw a heavy hit, and take one if necessary, I’ve taken too many gloves to the head.  What are the chances the last concussion I sustained gave me brain damage?  If the direction of my thoughts, and the way my body is reacting to my little brother straddling my lap, and clinging to me, is any indication . . . high. Really fucking high. I’m not sure how to politely disengage.  If he’s anything...

After Sebastian shows me his—our bedroom since it’s stupid of him to sleep on the sofa in his own home, he showers, while I change the bedsheets, dresses while I make room for myself in the closet, and pushes me out of the front door while his hair is still damp.  We stop by the recreational center so I can get my car, then I lead the way to the dorms.  The whole building is a hub of activity.  Last minute arrivals are hustling to move in before school starts on Wednesday. People are introducing themselves to the students they’ll...

It’s startling how quickly Nicolo settles in. Makes himself at home.  He unpacks with a single minded determination so rarely seen when he was a child. I don’t have the heart to tell him not to. That we may not be here long enough for him to truly settle in.  Within a couple of hours a new pillow has been added to the bed, along with a heating blanket and stuffed frog that has seen better days. His clothing is sorted—some hanging in the closet with mine, other’s stuffed in drawers he rearranged to make room for himself.  The bathroom...

It’s a stupid fucking question. Are you okay? As soon as I ask, I know the answer. The only surprising part is Sebastian’s honesty. He would have lied before, told me he was fine, to worry about myself, before working hard to distract me. I would have let him because it was easier to play pretend than to acknowledge our reality.  Things are different now. Sebastian is no longer that same teenager, trying hard to live up to our father’s expectations, while at the same time never losing himself to them, and protecting me to the best of his ability. ...

By silent, but seemingly mutual agreement, we reseal the boxes before shoving them into the utility closet. One day, maybe I will go through them, thoroughly examine my past, but not today. Not after working so hard to put it behind me. Not while Nicolo is attempting to do the same in the only way he can.  Instead, while my baby brother showers, I do what I should have done hours ago. As soon as Nicolo recognized me at the recreational center. Leaning against the kitchen counter, I unlock my phone, and navigate to a number I rarely use. Calling...

From brown cardboard boxes to black fabric duffle bags.  If I had known Sebastian was going to call the Marshall Service I wouldn’t have bothered unpacking. If Sebastian had known he was going to call the Marshall’s today, or even this week, he would have told me not to bother because we’d have hours to decide what we want to take with us, and what we’re okay receiving at a later date.  After picking through our belongings, we fit what we can into his duffle bags, and I quietly accept leaving the rest behind. The one thing we can’t take,...

It takes Simon, and his partner, less than fifteen minutes to do a sweep of the house, grab our bags, load them up, and usher us out of the front door. All the while Nicolo clings to my hand and presses against my side, shaking like a leaf in a windstorm.  His eyes are wide, face pale, and skin clammy when we climb into the SUV.  I pull the seat belt across his lap as Simon backs out of my driveway under the cover of darkness. Nicolo’s fear, the cloud of uncertainty that makes it hard to think, hard to...