I stop outside the garage door. Take a breath. Push down the panic clawing at my throat.
Think. Don't assume. Ask questions first.
Claudio is under the hood of his car when I walk in. Some project he's been working on for months. A distraction, I think. A way to pretend our family isn't falling apart one piece at a time.
"Claudio."
He doesn't look up. "Busy."
"Gianna's cards got declined."
His hands stop moving. Just for a second. Then he's back to whatever he's doing, but the tension in his shoulders tells me everything I need to know.
"Banks have issues sometimes."
"All three cards? At once?"
Silence.
"Claudio." I step closer. "Look at me."
He straightens. Wipes his hands on a rag. Finally meets my eyes.
My brother is twenty-six. Five years older than me. But right now, he looks like a kid caught stealing from the cookie jar.
"What's going on?"
"Nothing."
"Don't lie to me."
He throws the rag onto his workbench. "I'm not lying. I don't know what's happening with Gianna's cards."
"But you know something."
He doesn't answer.
The bad feeling crystallizes into something sharper. Something with edges.
"Where's Papa?"
Claudio's jaw tightens. "Out."
"Out where?"
"I don't know."
"You're lying again."
"Nella—"
"Is this about his gambling?" The words come out harder than I intended. "Did he do something? Did he?—"
"I don't know." Claudio's voice cracks. "I don't know, okay? He left this morning. Wouldn't tell me where he was going. Wouldn't look me in the eye."
My heart is pounding now. Blood rushing in my ears.
Papa wouldn't look him in the eye.
