"Hello, little brother."
The words hit harder than any bullet ever could.
For a second...
I forgot how to breathe.
The pistol in my hand suddenly felt like it weighed a hundred pounds.
I stared at the man standing twenty feet away.
The scar across his jaw.
The streaks of gray in his dark hair.
The eyes...
Those impossible gray eyes.
The same ones I'd seen every morning in the bathroom mirror for as long as I
could remember.
"No..."
The word barely left my mouth.
"You died."
A tired smile crossed his face.
"I came close."
My mind refused to accept what I was seeing.
Twenty years.
Twenty years of believing my brother had died in a firery motorcycle crash.
Twenty years of watching my father grieve a son he'd buried.
Twenty years...
Gone in a single sentence.
Cal looked
