The tires screeched as Michael’s car rolled to a stop in front of your house. Late afternoon sun bounced off the cracked windshield, and inside, the air was already thick with regret.

Michael sighed.

—“Just stay in the car and don’t say anything stupid.”

Trevor, already halfway out the passenger seat, snorted.

—“I never say anything stupid. I say things people are too afraid to admit.”

Then he saw you.

You were on the porch, bending slightly to pick up a box, hoodie off the shoulder, earbuds in. Casual. Harmless.

Trevor’s eyes widened.

—“Ohoho… Mikey,” he said, nudging him with an elbow. “You didn’t tell me we were picking up dessert before the job.”

Michael didn’t even look up.

—“Don’t.”

Trevor was already climbing out of the car, grinning.

—“How much, babe? I got like—hold on—” he started patting his pockets. “I got a crumpled twenty, two lollipops, and the key to a stolen jet ski.”

You pulled one earbud out, confused.

—“What?”

Michael finally got out.

—“Trevor. That’s my sibling.”

Trevor froze.

He blinked. Looked at you. Looked at Michael. Looked back at you.

—“…Really?”

—“Really.”

Trevor took a step back.

—“Okay. Wow. My bad. Total misunderstanding. In my defense, the lighting out here is very suggestive.”

Michael groaned. Loudly.

—“Can we please just get the damn detonators and go?”

Trevor threw an arm around your shoulder like nothing had happened.

—“So! You got any more hot siblings hiding around here, or did Mikey use up all the good genes?”

You shoved him off.

Michael muttered, “This was a mistake,” under his breath.

And somewhere, in the distance, a dog barked—probably in warning.