“That is Aunt Delores,” Milo explained, chewing on his thumbnail. “She tries her best. We sell things so we can eat and so she can buy her medicine.”
Breanna felt the plaza tilt around her. For years, she had hidden from that phantom memory of her delivery. Now it stood in front of her, not a ghost at all, but a flesh and blood child with her son’s eyes.
“We need to go,” she whispered.
Mason jerked away from her grasp, tears clouding his gaze. “I am not leaving him. I feel like he belongs with us.”
Breanna could not answer. All she could do was lift Mason in her arms and walk away, her pulse pounding so loudly that she could barely hear Milo call after them.
“Do not forget me.”
The drive home was silent except for Mason’s soft repetitions: “Please go back. Please. He is my brother. I know it.”
At their modest house on the city’s south side, Trevor watered the tomato plants along the fence. He looked up when the car pulled in and smiled, but the smile faltered when he saw Breanna’s expression.