My breath comes out in a relieved rush. I’m still kind of pissed at Easton for being a dick, but I also don’t trust my family with anyone else. I watch him approach, catching Leo’s nervous look, but I shoot him a wave and mouth, ‘It’s fine.’
Leo nods and presses his hand to his heart before turning his attention to his brother, and I spin on my heel, leading Camilo toward my mom’s place.
Camilo nudges me as we approach the door. “So. You and Easty’s brother?”
I flush. “It’s new. And not important right now.”
“There will be plenty of time to give you shit later. For now—” He grabs my arm and holds me back away from the door. “—I need you to relax. It’s going to be okay.”
His words are soothing, even if my anxiety is refusing to listen to reason. “Thanks,” I mutter, then I push the door all the way open and gesture for him to go in ahead of me.
My mom hasn’t moved other than to scoot back against the wall. Her knees are to her chest, and she’s rocking gently from side to side with her head lolling back and forth along the plaster.
“Mom. Uh…this is my boss. His name is Camilo.”
“Sounds Mexican,” she mutters.
“Oh my god, I am so sorry,” I start.
He holds up a hand, and then he walks over and crouches down beside her. “My mom’s from Colombia.”
She opens one eye and stares at him. “Mexican.”
He’s far more patient than most people would be. “I have a few cousins married into the family who are. We’ve been there a few times. I took my sister to Tulum for her graduation present when she got accepted into her master’s program. She’s an archaeologist now.”
I never knew that about him, and it’s odd to hear him telling my mom personal things that he never talks about at work.
“My son could have been something, you know?” she says after a tense silence. “He was more like a little brother than my kid. I took him to school with me a couple of times when he was a baby.”
When Camilo glances over at me, my throat goes tight. I keep these things to myself for a reason.
“My parents didn’t want to help, but they also didn’t believe in abortion,” she murmurs. “Life would have been easier if I’d given it away or something.”
It.
Me. She means me.
“All of that sounds really hard,” Camilo says with almost no emotion. His shoulders are tense though, and I can tell he wants to say more, but it won’t help the situation. She’s not herself—but also, maybe she is. Maybe all of this is the brutal truth she’s been holding back all these years.
My throat hurts, holding back tears of rage and embarrassment and a little bit of sadness.
“Do I have to go with you?” she asks, sitting up for the first time.
Camilo sighs. “My friend Axel is going to come pick you up and take you to the hospital for observation.”
He doesn’t present it like it’s a choice. I brace myself for her to flip out, but instead, she drops her legs and leans forward and makes direct eye contact with me.
“I don’t wanthimto come.”
Camilo looks over his shoulder at me. “Your son?”
“Yes.”
Everything in me hurts now. It’s taking everything I have not to burst into a scream.
“I’ve put him through enough,” she goes on, and suddenly, it’s like all the fight leaves my body. Her tone is so fucking honest. “Call my daughter Starr. She can handle it. North needs to go home.”
“Mom—”
