“You know what I mean.”
Alex’s nostrils flare. “Let’s pretend I don’t,” he says with swagger, wagging his head side to side the way only a Chicano teenage boy can.
I firm my grip until his breath hisses.
“No sex. And I mean. No. Sex. While she’s living at home.”
His eyes bug. “You expect us to wait until college?!”
I chuckle.“Hermano,I don’t expect you’ll be dating next summer.”
He looks so hurt; I almost feel guilty. “Why not?”
I sigh. “Alex—” I start to tell him that it’s just not realistic, but I stop. In a few months, he’ll figure it out on his own. “Forget I said that. Just remember the part about no sex.”
He scowls. “You’re just saying that to me because I’m your brother, and you expect me to be just as perfect as you are.”
This time, I laugh outright. “Alex, I’m going easy on you. Wait and see what I do to the other guys Mattie dates.”
My little brother—who’s not so little anymore—steps into my space. “There won’t be other guys,” he growls.
I almost—almost—step back. But I get into his space instead. “Good. Then I’ll only have to say this once, little brother. You have sex with her while she’s underage, and I. Will. Hurt. You.”
Chapter Thirty-One
MILLIE
After Nezzie’s tacos,churros, and lots of wedding talk, we head home. But the kids are still so wired from all the excitement that I cave when they ask to watch the copy ofCocoLuc’s cousin Felicité lent us. I make everyone—everyone except Luc—change into pajamas first so getting into bed after will be quick—or so I think.
When I come back downstairs in my Latuza pajama set and fuzzy socks, Luc’s appreciative gaze makes me blush even though I’m covered from neck to toe. He starts the movie, wedged between Emmett and me, the two of us snuggled against him. But as soon as little Miguel finds himself among the dead, Emmett scrambles in between us so he can hug me.
I’m not at all prepared for the scene when Miguel plays the lullaby and Coco remembers her father. None of us are. And the living room echoes with the susurration of muffled sobs and sniffles.
“This is why I don’t like school,” Emmett whimpers into my shoulder.
I sit up straight, clutching him. “What do you mean, buddy?”
Emmett looks up at me, red eyed and nose streaming. Like the hero he is, Luc pauses the movie, reaches toward the coffee table, and plucks a tissue from the box in the middle of it.
Emmett takes it from him and wipes his nose. “This,” he says, stamping his eyes with the tissue. “Crying like this. Even when I’m not watching a sad movie.”
“Oh,” I say, feeling helpless. “I know. It happens to me too.”
“Grief attacks,” Mattie says, shaking her head and reaching for her own tissue. “I hate them.”
“Yeah,” Harry says, his voice rough. “They suck.”
Emmett blinks his watery eyes. “You have themtoo?!”Shock rings in his voice. All three of us nod, and I bite my lip, guilt swamping me.
“It does suck,” I say, “but it’s normal. Like I said from the beginning, it’s normal to cry about it.”
He looks at me, clearly stunned. “You didn’t say it would happenat school!”His voice pitches with the injustice of it. “I thought it would only happen when I thought of Mom and Dad.”
I smile, but gently, wistfully. “No, Em, it doesn’t work like that. It can happen anywhere.”
“Even at school,” Mattie says.
“Or soccer practice,” Harry adds grudgingly.
