Page 42 of Protector

“So you miss your brother, I bet,” Buddy says.

I gaze into my beer, thinking how nice it would be to have Dylan here for good. How fun it would have been to grow up with even one grandparent. My dad’s parents lived in Greece before they died, and Adele’s mother was in Chicago; by the time we got her to move here, it was too late. “Yeah, I do.”

“So what are you waiting for?” Tom says, throwing his hands in the air. “Call him.” Then before I can respond, he’s off his stool and coming around behind me. “Follow me, missy.”

I glance over my shoulder and follow his path until he stops just before the dance floor and turns. “You guys coming?”

I look at Buddy, and he shrugs before getting off his stool. I follow behind him, and before we reach Tom, he’s off again, taking a right turn and heading to the back wall where an upright piano sits.

Tom takes a seat at the bench, his hands poised on the keys. “The basic birthday song or something fancier?”

I don’t even try to stop the huge grin taking over my face. “Basic is great.” I pull my phone out, tap Dylan’s number, and hold my breath as it rings.

Just when I’m about to give up, his face pops onto the screen, his hand running through a mess of black curly hair. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? It’s like six in the morning.”

I wince and look from Tom to Buddy, who’s standing on the other side of Tom, waving off the swear word.

Turning back to the phone, I ignore Dylan’s grumpy greeting and beam at him. “Happy Birthday, bro!”

He grins back. “Thank you.” He rubs his eyes and then squints into the phone. “Where are you?”

“Just hanging with some new friends.” I shoot a wink at my two buddies, and Tom begins to play.

“Listen,” I say over the start of the song, then join in.

Halfway through singing “Happy Birthday,” several people crowd around us and join in as well. I flip the camera and pan around to all of them, enjoying the fact that Dylan will be so confused by this.

I turn the screen back to me just in time for the end, catching Dylan laughing and shaking his head. “I don’t know what that was, sis, but it was awesome. Thank you.”

“I wish we could celebrate together.”

“Me too,” he says quietly, guilt on his face.

“When are you coming to visit?” I almost used the wordhomeand stopped myself.

“Hopefully, soon.”

I know that actually means he won’t be back for a long time, and I just don’t want to hear him confirm that, so I don’t press him. “I’m going to let you go, but call me when you have some time.”

“I will. Love you.”

“Love you.”

I stare at my screen saver until Tom’s voice gets through to me.

“Take a seat, missy.”

I comply and put my hands on the keys.

“Wait? Do you play?” he asks.

“A little.” I look at him, his soft, sweet gaze calming, making me feel like we’re old friends. “Never had any lessons, just learned some stuff on the internet.”

Tom rolls his eyes. “You hear that, Buddy?”

“What?” I say innocently, though I don’t want to get into one of those generational debates, so I quickly start playing the beginning—because I don’t know the whole song—to “Für Elise.”

“Impressive,” Buddy says, nodding. “And something for us old folks.”

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