A long silence follows. "Yeah," he finally admits. "I know."
"Call me tomorrow," I say. "We'll figure something out."
"Sure." He doesn't sound convinced. "Enjoy your vacation, Mikey. Nice meeting you, Elena."
"You too, David," she replies warmly. "Take care of yourself."
The line goes dead, and I put the phone down with a sigh. "Sorry about that."
Elena shakes her head. "Don't apologize. Family is important." She hesitates, then asks, "Is he going to be okay?"
"Eventually. David's always been resilient. But this injury has hit him hard. Football was his identity."
"That's tough," she says softly. "Losing the thing that defines you."
"Yeah." I take a sip of wine, thinking about my brother. "He'll need to reinvent himself. Find a new purpose."
"What was he like growing up?" Elena asks, genuine interest in her eyes. "Before the football career?"
The question catches me off guard. No one at the office ever asks about my family, my past. It's always about the next deal, thenext acquisition. But the look on Elena's face is one of simple curiosity, not information gathering.
"David was always the athlete," I say, memories rising unbidden. "Natural talent for any sport he tried. But he was also the peacemaker in the family. When Ethan and I butted heads, which was often, David was the one who smoothed things over."
"And Jack? The rodeo rider?"
I smile despite myself. "Jack was a hell-raiser from day one. Fearless. Would try anything on a dare. Drove our mother crazy with worry, but she also admired his spirit."
"And Ethan is the oldest?"
"Yeah. Ex-military. Did a few tours before coming home." I don't elaborate on the PTSD, the isolation, the battles Ethan still fights daily. Some things aren't mine to share. "He's the protector. Always has been."
"And you're the businessman," Elena says. "The provider."
I look at her, struck by the insight. "Yes. I suppose I am."
"It makes sense," she says. "After your father died, you all found your roles."
I've never thought about it that way before, how each of us shaped ourselves to fill the gaps our father's death left.
"My mother worked multiple jobs after Dad died," I say, surprising myself. "I hated seeing how tired she was all the time. When I was fourteen, I promised her someday she wouldn't have to work anymore. That I'd take care of everything."
"And you did," Elena says softly.
"Eventually." I stare into my wine glass, remembering. "Not soon enough to give her the retirement she deserved."
"I'm sorry," Elena whispers.
"She saw the company succeed. Saw all her boys established in their paths. That mattered to her." I look up at Elena. "But sometimes I wonder if I spent so much time trying to secure our future that I missed too much of the present with her."
The admission costs me. It's a fear I've never voiced aloud, not even to my brothers. Yet here, in this moment with Elena, it feels right to share it.
"I think," Elena says, "that your mother was probably incredibly proud of you. Of all you've accomplished, yes, but more importantly, of the man you became."
"What man is that?" I ask, genuinely curious about how she sees me.
"A man who takes care of the people who matter to him," she says simply. "Your family. Your employees. Even if your methods are sometimes a bit... intense."
I laugh softly. "Intense. That's a diplomatic way of putting it."
