In his heart, though, Joe knew he craved something else. The loneliness since Emmett’s death weighed heavier with each passing year. It wasn’t just losing his lover. It was losing his best friend. Someone he could talk to about books or headlines or whether or not Bobby Thomson could ever top the walk-off home run he’d made in last year’s pennant playoff. Sooner or later, Joe needed to start letting people in, people he could see as equals rather than projects.
Right now, Carlo was a project. No doubt about that. But Carlo was also smart and articulate. There were worse options he could start practicing how to be a friend with.
“You need to tell me everything about what’s going on.” He held up a hand to cut off Copper’s objections. “Everything,” he stressed. “Because this isn’t about making a quick buck anymore, Copper. There’s other people involved, some of them innocent parties. Do you really want their blood on your hands?”