“Hey,” I greet, stepping out of his hold. Leaning over, I playfully punch Sam against his shoulder, since he hasn’t bothered to look up. “Um, hello? No love for your sister, or what?”
Beneath his chin-length mop of dark brown curls, he pops an earbud out. “What?”
“Samuele, you’re twenty-one years old. Stop acting like you’re a teenager and show your sister some respect,” my father barks from across the table.
“Showeveryonesome respect, Samuele,” Luciano adds.
“Okay, okay,” Sam scoffs, pulling the second earbud out. Popping open the case, he pushes each one into it without looking up.
Defeat rolls off of him in waves. As the youngest, he’s often treated as such. Babied by our mother. Disciplined by our father, as well as Luciano and Joseph. It’s a lot.
I try to keep our relationship playful and carefree, but often I see him disassociating and climbing back into his shell. He’s overstimulated easily and needs to be left alone—especially in social settings—which I completely understand.
The others in our family aren’t as understanding.
“It’s fine. I was just playing with him. He smiled at me when I walked over, don’t worry.” Once again, I come to his aid, covering for him when it’s a white lie. It rolls off my tongue easily, as I’ve said similar things many times over the years.
In our world, inManhattan, you have two options: sink or swim. I vowed never to let myself sink, no matter how tumultuous the waves get. And as I watch my little brother barely tread water, I can’t help but always extend a life preserver.
“So, Sunshine, how’s your week been?” my father asks, as he does every Sunday.
Taking my seat, I pull my napkin onto my lap and smooth it. Nothing about my week stands out, except for my time spent with Sly, which for obvious reasons, I’ll be taking to my grave.
A familiar surge of adrenaline spikes through my body as I think of him, though. “It was good. Busy, but that just made the days pass faster. How was your week?”
“Much better now that I’m seeing your smiling face.”
My mother beams and reaches for his hand, giving it a light squeeze. She loves that he dotes upon me so much. On all of us. For every horrid thing he has ever done, being a bad husband or father isn’t on the list. He loves us all fiercely.
“Well, I have a reason to smile,” I coo as I deliberately look at the empty seats at the table, not so subtly referring to the absence of my middle brother. To my left, Luciano chuckles as he takes a sip of his ice water. “Just us today?”
“Oh, no, little sis, you know I wouldn’t miss family brunch for the world.”
Dread claws in the center of my stomach when Ihear the snide tone of Joseph’s voice, but that dread turns to nausea when I look over my shoulder to see both himandAugust standing at the entrance to the patio.
“August!” my mother squeals, much like the way she did when I arrived.
“Leighton, always a pleasure,” he says as he crosses the room to kiss her on the cheek. “I hope you don’t mind that I’ve tagged along.”
“Not at all,” my father affirms, standing with his hand extended. August grips it, and my father pulls him in to clap his shoulder. “You’re an honorary Paladino.”
Hearing that makes my stomach recoil.
Joseph brought August around only a few years ago, and I’ve never had a good feeling about him. Still, he’s weaseled his way into my parents' good graces and has held on like the leech he is. Despite voicing my concerns, I feel like I’m the only one who can see through his facade. He’s a snake, and frankly, he makes my skin crawl.
“Hello, beautiful,” he purrs as he slides against me, bending so he can wrap his arm around my shoulders in a side hug.
“August,” I greet curtly. Attempting to shrug him off, I shoot a look at Luciano, silently asking for help.
Thankfully, my eldest brother can sense my discomfort. “August, perhaps you should keep your hands to yourself. It’s clear my sister isn’t consenting to you touching her.”
August glares at my brother, shooting daggers fromhis eyes before he pulls away. As he goes, he skates his fingers across my shoulder blades and twists a lock of my hair around his finger, giving it a slight tug before releasing it.
Luciano sees it and immediately stands, his chair scuffing loudly against the floor as he does. No words are exchanged as my brother stares him down, and August backs away slowly with a sinister smile playing on his lips.
“Oh, relax, Luce. August just has a harmless crush on our baby sister,” Joseph comments, his smile as deplorable as his friend’s.
Now, both Luciano and I glare at Joseph.
