It was three hours before he made it to his front door. Benito’s flat was in the anonymous hub of Milton Keynes. From his bedroom window, he could see the theatre district, the shopping centre, and the old Point cinema. The sight was nostalgic and depressing. He shut the curtains on it and stripped his clothes again. More mud. He stared at his hands, flexing his sore fingers. His stomach still hurt, craving a hot meal, but sleep would come first. Then Gianna. As adrenaline faded, he tried to recall what she’d requested for breakfast, but his brain had slowed. It was cloudy now, fogged with fatigue.
Even the ping of an incoming message seemed distant enough that he almost forgot to find his phone.
Almost.
It fell out of his pocket as he loaded his clothes into the washing machine. A WhatsApp message lit up the screen.
Mickey.
Benito’s heavy heart skipped a beat. He opened the message. Random abbreviations greeted him, more so than Mickey’s usual messages, and his heart sank as fast as it had lifted.
Mickey: hopefly. mbe the weak after if woRk stays crezy
Another week? Fuck. I can’t wait that long.
The realisation shocked him. Scared him even. Since when had his sanity rested on a hook-up he’d met twice?
It doesn’t. You’re tired and acting fucked up.
It made sense. But the more Benito thought about it, the less he believed it, and a new ache formed deep in his chest.
Naked, he went to the bathroom, still clutching his phone. Nausea bloomed sudden and harsh in his belly. He stumbled and upchucked into the sink, heaving until he could barely breathe.
He turned the taps on and stared at himself in the mirror.
I look dead.
Some days, he wished he was.
He turned the shower on and stepped under the spray. The water warmed at the same pace as his chilled blood. Benito pressed his back to the tiles and slid down the wall. He buried his face in his bent knees and wrapped his arms around his head.
Only then did he start to shake.
7
“You brought raisin whirls?” Gianna snatched the paper bag from Benito’s outstretched hand. “Yes! You’re the best, Beni.”
Benito smiled and leaned against the car, tired. He’d only managed a half hour nap before it had been time to meet Gianna by the bus stop, but moments like these made life worthwhile. And he hadn’t even given her the iPad yet. After school. Perhaps by then he’d have caught up on his sleep enough that she wouldn’t keep offering to walk to McDonalds and get him a coffee. “What lessons do you have today?”
Gianna stilled her excited dance and stuck her hand in the bakery bag. “I don’t know. The usual. Why are you asking me that?”
“Because I’m your big brother and I want to make sure you don’t end up a bum like me.”
“You’re not a bum. It’s not your fault you lost your job.”
“I know.” The lie choked Benito. He took the pastry Gianna held out and bit into it. “But it was a shit job anyway. And now I drive a fucking taxi. You can do better than that, G. Better than me.”
Gianna scowled over the bottle of orange juice Benito had brought her. “You always say that, but do you know how many of my friends have big brothers who bring them breakfast and meet them from school every day? Fucking zero.”
“Don’t swear.”
“Why not? You do.”
“Yeah, and I just told you to be a better human.”
“It’s just a word.”
“Nothing is just a word. It’s about respect and understanding context. If you say that to a teacher, you’ll get in trouble.”
Gianna twisted the cap back on her bottle and shoved it in the pocket of the Superdry coat Benito had bought her last month. “I wouldn’t say it to a teacher. I’m not stupid.”
“That’s what we all think. Then you normalise shit and it bleeds out of you before you can stop it.”
“Don’t swear.”
“Very funny. Look, I’m trying to be responsible. Don’t give me a hard time.”
Gianna’s expression softened. Her gaze drifted to the block and the windows of the flat she shared with their mother.
Benito didn’t follow. He’d given up wondering if their mum had eyes on him. If she watched the daily exchanges between her children and gave a flying fuck that thanks to her, it was all they had. I hate her.
He didn’t. But some days he wanted to.
“Beni.”
“Hmm?” Benito returned to earth with a dull thud. Despite his best efforts, his gaze had drifted to the block. He brought it back to Gianna and braced himself for her sharp tongue. “Sorry. I was thinking about something else.”
Gianna bit her lip and turned her head, hiding half her face in the long dark hair she’d straightened since Benito had laid eyes on her the night before, a classic tell that she was nervous.
Benito frowned and gripped her chin with gentle fingers. “What is it?”
“Nothing.”
“Liar. Tell me. Are you in trouble at school?”
“You’re obsessed with school.”
“G.”
“Okay, okay.” Gianna shrugged free of Benito’s hand. “I was just wondering if you were going to go and see Mum today, that’s all. It’s been ages and I hate that you two never talk.”
“We talk,” Benito lied. Again. “She knows how to reach me if you need anything.”
“That’s not the same as talking. You haven’t been inside the flat since you moved back from London. How can you know—”
Gianna snapped her lips shut.
Benito raised a brow. “Know what?”
“Nothing.”
“It’s not nothing if you’re bringing it up now, and not every day in the last six months. What’s changed?”
Gianna shook her head.
Frustration rippled through Benito, and he hated himself for it. It wasn’t Gianna’s fault he couldn’t be in the same room as their mum without wanting to Hulk smash the furniture she’d bought with her new husband—Gianna’s dad—at the expense of everything Benito had ever cared about. Everything his own father had worked for before his dead-end job had killed him. “What aren’t you telling me?” he tried again. “Is Roberto back?”
“No.”
“Sure about that? It’s the only thing I can think of that you’d be afraid to tell me.”
Gianna lifted her chin. “I’m not afraid.”
“You can be, you know. You’d still be the strongest little fucker I’ve ever known.”
“Don’t swear.” Gianna tried for a smile, but it was weak and wet.
Benito sighed and drew her into a tight hug. He hated a lot of things, but nothing more than seeing her upset. “Look, if it’s that important to you, I’ll go and see Mum soon, okay? And I’ll do it when you’re at school so you don’t have to watch us fight.”
Gianna shook her head. “Not soon. You have to go today. Promise me you will.”
“I can’t—”
“Promise me.” Gianna gazed up at him. “Please. It has to be today.”
Benito stared at her for a long moment, losing himself to the trust she’d placed in him since the day she’d been born. No one had ever owned his heart the way she did. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her. Not even this. “Okay. I’ll go as soon as you get on the bus.”