Franco Benedetti liked my father for some reason. He treated him differently than his other soldiers. My father considered it a promotion when he became one of Franco’s personal body guards, traveling with him everywhere, coming home less and less often. Mateo had begged to join him so many times, looking at Franco like he was God almighty. He’d never been allowed, though.

It was during one of these trips that my father was killed. He died protecting Franco Benedetti. He’d saved Benedetti’s life by sacrificing his own. That was why Franco had promised to take care of Mateo, me, and our mother.

I hadn’t known Mateo was at the meeting, and I’d gone looking for him during the party. I wanted cake, but my mother said we needed to wait for Mateo to sing “Happy Birthday” first, so I’d decided to go get him myself. I remember I’d taken the envelope Mr. Benedetti had dropped off for him, Mateo’s birthday gift. My mother had commented on its thickness, knowing it contained cash. She’d put it on the top of the refrigerator for safekeeping, but I’d climbed up on a chair and gotten it down, wanting to take it to Mateo, knowing how happy he’d be. I loved him. He was the best big brother. He was protective and even humored me by playing with my dolls when I begged.

Well, I hadn’t found him and had wandered farther from the property, not realizing two older boys had seen me with the envelope and were following. They cornered me when we were far enough away that no one would hear and told me to give it up, give them Mateo’s birthday gift.

No way I was doing that, and I told them so.

Well, they didn’t exactly take no for an answer, and I realized that day how powerless I was without Mateo to save me. It pissed me off, actually and I readied to fight, knowing I’d lose, refusing to return to the house empty-handed. At least Mateo would know I’d fought for him.

But I hadn’t had to because another boy had been there too. An older one, a friend of Mateo’s. Or at least someone I’d seen with Mateo a couple of times.

That boy…I stopped breathing.

That’s why I’d felt something, some sort of safety or protection around Dominic at the cabin. That’s why the strange feeling of familiarity.

He’d been there that day. He’d been at my house. At my brother’s birthday party.

Dominic Sapienti was Dominic Benedetti.

Dominic Benedetti had told those boys to take a hike and had given me the envelope back.