Page 97 of Ace of Spades

The thought curls warm inside me. Not because of the treasure or the drama, but because for the first time, I can trace a line between myself and something bigger. Something older. Something that feels like it belongs. Like it always had.

"That’s actually kind of badass," I admit, grinning.

Brody winks. "Runs in the blood."

We settle into a comfortable silence, the kind that feels rare enough to notice. I sip my juice, gathering my nerve.

"What about you?" I ask. "Your family?"

He’s quiet for a beat, the breeze lifting the edges of the paper napkins between us.

"My dad was a bit of a hardass. Built like a slab of stone, cold to match. My mom was softer. Smarter. I spent a lotta years trying to make the old man proud." His mouth twists. "Didn’t take."

There’s a sadness there, muted but alive. I don’t poke at it. I know better than most that some wounds don't scar over easy.

“No siblings,” I ask him.

He shakes his head. “Only child.” Brody glances back at me, a little crooked smile tugging at his mouth, making a dimple appear. "Guess that's why Levi and I stuck. Neither of us had much else worth holding onto in the family department.”

I twist my fingers in my lap. "How'd you two meet?"

"The Army." His smile fades into something heavier. "We met in basic. We had different units. Same hellholes. He saved my ass more times than I like to admit."

I look down at Milo, who shifts in his sleep, his paws twitching like he's dreaming.

"Is that how you got...?" I trail off, gesturing lightly toward Brody’s legs.

He nods, once. "IED. Took out my convoy. Levi was supposed to be on that detail, but he swapped shifts last minute to cover for someone else. I've got scars. He’s got ghosts."

I swallow hard.

"They sent me home with half a working body and a pocket full of survivor’s guilt," he says softly. "Levi stayed. Finished out his tour. Then went back and volunteered for another one. The masochist."

There's another long stretch of silence between us. I like getting to hear from Levi about my dad. I can tell he cares about him. There’s a deep respect there.

And somehow, it helps me understand Levi a little better. The way he holds onto everything so tight. The way he blames himself for things no one could’ve stopped. It goes beyond the garage. Beyond Evie.

To a time when he was about my age, it seems.

"What about you?" he asks, tipping his chin toward me. "Your mom?... Your family?"

I glance down at my plate, pushing what’s left of my crumbs around with the side of my fork.

"It was... different," I say carefully. "Mom came from a very religious family. Like,veryreligious."

Brody listens without interrupting, Milo breathing steady at his feet.

"My grandparents ran the show," I continue. "Strict, controlling, always preaching about hellfire and damnation if you so much as looked at the world wrong. Sometimes..." I swallow. "The way mom described growing up, sometimes it felt more like a cult than a family."

Brody’s jaw tightens subtly, but he lets me keep going.

"Mom—Amalie—she was the rebel of her family. She was the one who got out. She kept in touch with her sister, Julian’s mom. But growing up she taught me and Julian there was more to life than fear and guilt. She gave us a real shot at something better. Something free and beautiful."

"Sounds like you’re a lot like her," Brody says quietly.

I blink against the sting behind my eyes. "Thanks." It’s probably the greatest compliment I can get.

"And Julian? How’s he doing?"

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