"Where is he now? Your brother?"
Malia shrugs, swallowing as she turns back to the bowl of ice cream. "My mom left that house and took me with her. We never looked back. I haven't seen him in a long time."
I don't know what to say. I wish I could do something to stop making her feel upset. I didn't think the conversation would lead to this.
She softly chuckles, but the sound is half-hearted—unlike what I like hearing from her. "Sorry, I'm ruining the night," she says, "I didn't mean to unload that out of nowhere. I don't usually talk about my past, but somehow telling you about it was comforting."
Shaking my head, I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "You can tell me anything, mia passerotta. You're safe with me."