And not to expect him to return.

  He’d visited the month before, and Agnes had remarked that she could see the track marks on his arms, and they were getting infected. Linda had been doing accounts at the time, and she’d made a little gasp in her throat. Craig—who’d been over cooking dinner, which he did a lot—had left everything to simmer and taken her away from her desk in the corner of the living room and outside for a walk. Kelly had finished dinner, and that had been that.

  They all knew.

  Matty was an addict, and Isela was nowhere to be found.

  Kelly had heard Lily and Lulu talking about his yellow eyes and the red patches on his face.

  He wasn’t stupid—he knew what it could add up to.

  But he’d been telling himself his brother was dead to him for a long time now. He was too pissed off to grieve.

  The lights went down, the curtain opened, and the play began—Agnes in the leading role. For an hour and a half, Kelly was able to bury his worry about Seth under his pride for his sister, but when the lights went up and she took a bow with her cast, he and Craig looked at each other again.

  Fuck.

  They managed to contain themselves, though, to congratulate Agnes, who was over the moon—and upset because Seth had promised her flowers. Lily and Lulu told her they’d take her out with her friends to get ice cream after set breakdown, and Kelly hugged them all before he tailed Craig and Linda out of the school auditorium, Chloe clutching his hand.

  Once they got her unhappily situated in her car seat in the back of the minivan, Kelly sat in the middle and leaned forward between his mom and Seth’s dad, looking for answers.

  “Did his plane get in?” Craig asked, looking at Kelly.

  Kelly nodded. “Right on time. He texted me as soon as they landed, and he had a good hour. Here—I’m looking for traffic conditions—”

  “I’ve got them,” Craig muttered. “Hell. Oh hell. Linda, here. You take Chloe inside once we get home.”

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, not taking her eyes off the road but not losing the conversation either.

  “There….” Craig took a deep breath. “There was a pileup. Multicar. On 5. Several big rigs involved. You go inside with Chloe. Kelly and I will call hospitals. I’ll let you know if we hear anything.”

  “Oh God.” Linda covered her mouth with her hand. “Craig, he’s got to be—”

  And Craig Arnold grabbed her hand and laced their fingers together, bringing them to his lips. “Have faith, honey. Have faith just this once. He’s Seth.” His voice cracked. “We just need to find out.”

  She nodded, and Kelly got out so she could carry a sleeping Chloe upstairs. He was on his second phone call when he saw a movement from the shadows.

  “Son of a bitch,” he muttered.

  “I beg your pardon?” came the harried clerk on the other end of the line.

  “Shit! I’m sorry. I was looking to see if you had a patient from the car wreck—the big one on Highway 5?” Poor woman. Kelly watched his no-account brother walk out from the shadows behind the Arnold’s apartment, something dangling from his far hand. Kelly kept his eyes on Matty but his brain on his task.

  “What is your relationship to the patient, sir?”

  “He’s my boyfriend—Seth Arnold.”

  “The violinist? The one on YouTube?”

  Kelly blinked. Seth’s videos—the ones he made where he played the different parts—had gotten enough hits for Seth to hire someone to monetize his own YouTube station. He made a decent amount of money from it, but not once had Kelly ever heard anybody but his own family talk about watching.

  “Yeah—”

  “So you would be Kelly?”

  Oh Jesus. “Kelly Cruz,” he said, feeling shell-shocked. Seth and Lindsey Stirling—both YouTube phenomena. Now he knew why people knew about him.

  “Oh! Well, I’ll have to tell my son. He’s out too. He was very excited to see Seth’s stuff online—”

  “Is he there?” Kelly asked, the fine edge of panic in his voice. Matty had spotted him and Craig in the car and was coming their way.

  Oh Jesus. That thing in his hand—Kelly knew those things well. Lily, Lulu, Agnes, Chloe—at one time or another, he’d carried all of them in one.

  There was a baby in that carrier, and Matty looked like hell.

  “Yes,” came the answer. “Yes, he was admitted with the first wave of the injured. He’s in ICU in stable condition, but they’re awaiting his tests to see if he has internal injuries or any significant head injury. Are you planning to come visit him?”

  Oh Jesus. “Yes,” Kelly said. “Where is he?”

  While the clerk relayed the department and the room number, Kelly repeated it, catching Craig’s eyes so he could type the info into his phone. He thanked the clerk and hung up, and then he and Craig looked at each other grimly.

  “I’ll get Seth,” Craig said. “You get your brother.”

  No. “I want to get Seth!” Kelly snapped. “He’s mine. When does he get to be mine!”

  Craig dropped his chin against his chest. “He’s always been yours, Kelly. But I’m nobody to Matty. Whatever brought him here, whoever that is in the baby carrier, you are the person he needs to see.”

  “Just….” Kelly looked at this kind man—plain, graying, his amazing green eyes and delicate cheekbones the only testament that his son was the boy Kelly loved. “Just wait for a minute. Let me talk to Matty. Maybe I can come with you, okay?”

  Craig nodded. “Okay. Here—I’ll park the van. We can take my car instead.”

  Good idea. Kelly got out and walked toward his brother, his heart panic-beating in every step.

  “Matty?”

  Matty turned to him blearily, and Kelly saw that Lily and Lulu had been right. His eyes were yellow and the skin under them was gray. His face was blotched. And he hadn’t showered in too long a time.

  “Kel?” He smiled.

  Kelly’s throat grew tight. How long, Jesus, how long had it been since his brother had smiled when he saw him?

  “Yeah. What’s doin’ man? Who’s that in the car seat?”

  Matty let out a harsh, hoarse bark of laughter. “My son?”

  Kelly looked at him sideways and then crouched, taking in the baby’s appearance. He was tiny—maybe two weeks old? His skin was pink, and even under the soda lights, Kelly could see the hair haloing around his head was a blondish brown.

  Chloe’s hair and skin and eyes were all brown. There was no doubt she was Matty’s child—none.

  “Uh, Matty?”

  Matty shook his head. “Isela showed up three days ago,” he said with a shrug. “She had him with her. I was like, ‘Uh… babe?’ She said he was mine. Could be. She was around for a while last year. But it doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter if he’s mine. She took off, and I can’t… I just can’t. He’s a baby, Kel. He’s a baby, and he needs someone. And he doesn’t have a chance with her. I know I’m a shitty father, but I’m a good enough one to know that my family is raising my daughter decent.” He unshouldered the bag on his other side. “I got nowhere else to take him, and I’m almost out of formula and down to my last two diapers.”

  Kelly stared at him, mouth gaping, as Matty thrust the baby carrier into his hands, followed by the bag.

  “Dude, come up and talk to Mom at least! Man, she deserves that much.”

  Matty shook his head, and then to Kelly’s horror, he started coughing. A deep, wet, chest-sucking cough that he covered with his shoulder.

  He wiped his mouth, and Kelly saw the blood spots he’d left behind.

  “Jesus, Matty!”

  Matty shrugged, like Seth would have, if he’d known. “Vasculitis,” he said. “I’ve got two kinds of hepatitis, Kelly. He can’t stay with me. My body’s falling to shit. I’ll be lucky if I make it ’til Christmas.”

  Kelly stared at him, his brain shorting out. His brother was dying. His brother was dying. And Seth was in the hospital. And there was a baby in the carrier in his hand.

  “Craig!” he called as Seth’s father rounded the corner from the carport. “Craig, stay right here and make sure my useless fucking brother doesn’t go anywhere.” He glared at Matty. “We are not through with you!”

  And then he ran up the stairs to give the baby to his mom. He stopped, halfway up, and called out to Matty. “Hey, asshole! What’s this blond baby’s name?”

  And Matty, the fucker, completely sealed his goddamned fate. “Xavier,” he said. “Javi, after Dad.”

  “I fucking hate you.”

  And he finished the run before Matty could reply.

  Linda opened the door to Kelly and the car carrier and the bag of diapers with the same expression on her face that Kelly knew he must have had.

  They knew.

  They both knew what this meant.

  He told her that Matty needed a doctor, and since he and Craig were on their way anyway, could he please have a towel or a sheet or something so his useless fucking brother didn’t bleed or piss all over Craig’s car?

  She handed him the items fairly quickly, finishing up just when the baby started to cry. She sighed and bent down to free him from the car carrier, her entire body going limp as she picked him up.

  “Oh, baby… this is not your fucking fault.”

  Kelly swallowed. “Mom….” Freedom. He’d been so close to freedom.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll call your sisters to bring home some formula and some diapers. Go. Take care of Matty. Make sure Seth’s okay.”

  “Mom?”

  She shook her head and looked away. “Later, mijo. We’ll have this discussion later. When I can think and my heart isn’t breaking. Later.”

  Kelly tried not to slam the door as he trotted back out into the balmy spring night.

  It didn’t matter. Every clatter of his feet on the steps sounded like a prison door, slamming shut on all of Kelly’s dreams.

  Broken Hearts and Broken Strings

  ONE MINUTE, Seth’s life was golden.

  He’d landed on time, the Lyft was speeding along toward Sacramento, and dammit, he was going to make Agnes’s play on time.

  In half an hour, he’d be sitting on an uncomfortable metal chair in a shitty school cafeteria with cracked tile and a splintering wooden stage, watching Kelly’s sister be the star of the show. He’d have Chloe on his lap and Kelly to his side, and they’d be touching, together, and the money from his last film soundtrack recording session with New York would be hitting the bank.

  Sure, Gianni Pesci, the conductor from Italy, was in New York now, and he wanted Seth back to play for him again, but Seth had told him, repeatedly, that San Francisco was his home.

  Or Sacramento.

  Or a shitty high school, where he could give young people the same gift he’d been given.

  He didn’t care.

  Kelly was waiting for him. His family was waiting for him. He wanted to go home.

  He didn’t see the semi until it was almost on top of them. The Lyft driver swerved hard, saving both their lives, and dove off the road toward the vacant field. He couldn’t see the metal fence posts in his hurry, and Seth certainly didn’t expect one of them to rip through the front of the car like butter, but suddenly the car was flipping and the world went to hell.

  HE WASN’T sure how long he was in or out, but he knew his leg was on fire, and then he was drugged, and his leg and hip still hurt like a motherfucker, but the drugs at least kept him from caring. His head didn’t feel so awesome either.

  His father was sitting next to his bed, looking older than Seth had seen him look since, well, since he’d started sleeping with Kelly’s mom.

  Yeah, his dad had confessed. It had been sort of cute, actually. He wasn’t even sure if Kelly had caught it, but the two of them had shared a bed in Tuscany. Sure, Craig had said he was sleeping on the couch, and every morning, the blanket and pillow would be crisp and pretty on the end of the couch in the living room. Seth had said guilelessly that Rosa was really super-efficient, and his father had seized on that and clung.

  But Seth had given his father an arched eyebrow, and Craig had shrugged guiltily. That evening, as Seth was trailing Kelly up to the bedroom to cling tightly to his body as they snuggled and slept chastely, their time together almost at an end, his dad had stopped him.

  “You… uh… do you mind?”

  “Mind what?”

  “Uh… the sheets. I’m not, uh… using the sheets.”

  Seth had raised his eyebrows. “You’re using someone’s sheets.”

  And his father had glared, defensively, like a kid. “You know what I mean.”

  Yeah, Seth had known.

  He was happy about it.

  His father wasn’t alone. The Cruz family really was Seth’s family. Those years of being alone, by himself, waiting for his father to get home had nearly faded from memory.

  But you didn’t say to your boyfriend—your boyfriend who talked all the time, rambled on subjects from movies to the shit they put in fabric softener, and yet kept some things so close, so tight to his own heart that they festered in the soul—“Hey, babe, my dad’s banging your mom. You good with that?” So Seth wasn’t sure, actually, how Kelly felt about it.

  He was prepared for any eventuality.

  Or he had been, until that semi had come out of its lane and attempted to squash him like a bug.

  “How’s the driver?” he mumbled. An older man, Indian, with a picture of Jesus hanging from the rearview mirror and a photo of his family stuck in the overhead visor—he had driven like he had something to lose if he died.

  Since Seth felt the same way, he was grateful.

  “Fine,” his father said, holding his hand. “He actually walked away. You got pinned behind the passenger’s seat. They had to cut you out.”

  “How’s my violin?”

  His dad let out a strangled chuckle. “Good too. You had it strapped in the seat next to you, Seth. I think that Prius would have needed to blow up to hurt your instrument.”

  “Mm. No blowing up. Head’s doing that.”

  “Yeah. Concussions will do that. You’ve probably got some soft tissue damage in your neck and back, so they’re going to get you an MRI in a bit. I think they’ll probably put you under for that, because right now, everything probably hurts.”

  “Got that shit right.” Seth tried to take a deep breath but couldn’t. “Bruised ribs.”

  “Yeah. Not going to lie there, son. You… you were on the fine edge of being not all right.”

  “Fuuuuuck….” He kept his eyes closed. “Where’s Kelly?”

  His father’s silence was the most terrifying thing he’d ever heard.

  “He’s okay, right?”

  “He is. But….” Again, that terrible silence. “Matty came by tonight. He’s… well, Isela had another baby, for one thing.”

  Oh. Oh no. Nothing good… nothing good came with Matty. “And for two?”

  “Kelly took him to be evaluated. He was coughing blood. Matty said it was a side effect of hepatitis, but….”

  “Dad?”

  “I work in a warehouse, Seth. It’s a shitty neighborhood. People who look like Matty generally don’t… don’t get better.”

  “The goalpost,” Seth muttered. “The goalpost got moved again. The….” He couldn’t find words. “Brain’s all fuzzy.”

  “Yeah. The painkillers are setting in. They said you had about ten minutes before you blanked out again.”

  “Kelly… Kelly needs to….” What? Kelly needed to what? Needed to stay home again? Raise another child? Watch his brother die? Kelly needed…. Seth didn’t know. Couldn’t think. He was always trying to figure out what Kelly needed, but he couldn’t… not now. Seth just needed sleep.

  MORE IN and out. More moments with his dad and no Kelly.

  Finally he opened his eyes and Kelly was there, in his peripheral vision. Seth realized he had a neck brace on—probably that soft tissue damage his dad had been talking about—and he could see Kelly but couldn’t look him in the eyes.

  But he could still tell Kelly was crying.

  “Don’t cry, baby,” he mumbled, and tried to come more fully awake. Breathing was easier, and he felt the stiffness on his ribs, which meant they’d been taped. His head felt better—yay!—and his leg was heavy. So heavy. He frowned and wiggled his toes. “Am I in a cast?”

  “Yeah.” Kelly’s voice sounded… odd. Like it came from a swollen throat. “You got a cast. God. Seth—I… you have to not get hurt again.”

  Ooh… that was good to hear. “I’ll make it a priority.” He tried to smile, but couldn’t. “You… can’t move out again, can you?”

  Kelly let out a wounded sound. “He’s dying, Seth. Doctor confirmed it. Cirrhosis and carcinoma. The hept… heptsomething carcinoma is gonna make it go quick. Except quick isn’t quick. You’d think it was a guillotine or something, but he can be around next month or next year or five years. He’s just… just dying. I’m…. He’s going to stay at my mother’s, and she’s got his… God, it’s not even his baby. Do you know that? He’s like, ‘Here’s the baby I named after our father, but he’s got blond hair and blue eyes,’ and this kid cries all the time, just like Chloe, and… and we can’t leave the baby either, because… oh my God. Seth! My life is a sinkhole! You’re lying there, hurt, and my life is what we’re talking about!”

  “Kelly…,” he rasped. “Baby, calm down. We’ll see through this. We always—”

  “No. No, we won’t. Because it won’t stop. It won’t stop, my life. God, Seth….” He choked on a sob. “Your agent called. Your agent called, and she was crying—not because you’d been hurt, because she didn’t even know about that, but because you were turning down New York. You didn’t even tell me New York was on the table!”

  Mm… Seth’s head hurt more than he thought it did. “It wasn’t. Too far away from your family.”

  “But that’s you, fucking up your life for me again!” He pulled in a sob, but it didn’t work, and Seth couldn’t keep up with him. “Don’t you get it? You will do that again and again for me. You’re here, in this fucking hospital, because you were trying to see my sister in a play. Do you get how fucked-up that is?”