The next morning, Breanna looked at Trevor with resolve she did not feel ready for.
“We are going back to the plaza,” she said. “I will not hide from this anymore.”
Trevor hesitated. “Bree, this sounds dangerous. We do not know who that kid is or what his situation is.”
Breanna swallowed. “Then we find out.”
They returned to the plaza where the air smelled of roasted chiles and dust. Milo sat at the fountain, alone, his empty cardboard box beside him. His aunt was nowhere in sight. The moment Mason saw Milo, he sprinted ahead and wrapped his arms around him. Milo startled, then hugged back fiercely. Trevor and Breanna approached, and Trevor exhaled sharply when he truly saw Milo up close.
“My God,” he whispered. “This cannot be coincidence.”
Breanna knelt. “Milo, do you know your birthday.”
Milo scrunched his nose. “Aunt Delores says it is fireworks day. When the sky sparkles. When she heard cheers outside the hospital window.”
Trevor blinked. “Mason was born on New Year’s Eve. During the fireworks.”
A terrible clarity cracked open in Breanna’s mind. She looked at Trevor, and he knew what she was thinking. He shook his head slowly, denial clinging to him like armor.