Page 30 of Read With Your Heart

Por qué eres tan terco, bebé? I hear my mother’s voice in my head. I didn’t know why I was stubborn, but I’d go on a hunger strike after something my father said or when I got grounded and didn’t think I’d done anything wrong.

“Wait,” I call after Tricia, just as her feet hit her front porch. My legs are long, so I quickly cross the drive and take two large steps to clear her stairs. “Wait,” I say, catching her arm before she opens her door.

She spins on me. “Don’t touch me.”

Whoa. My hands fly up, arms spread in surrender at the glare she’s giving me. She’s still too cute to pull it off as fiercely as she intends, but the fire in her eyes tells me to stand down.

“Settle down, pretty lady,” I tell her, my best flirt falling into my voice, but she wants nothing from me. She points a finger at me, jabbing it into my chest.

“Don’t you pretty lady me. Your attitude sucks, and the way you treat your sisters is worse.”

“What the fuck?” I snap. Who is she to pass judgment?

“Your little sister needs positive attention. She misses her mother and lives with a man who frightens her with his voice.”

I . . . what?

“And Lena’s so desperate for attention she’ll go to any length to piss you off just to get it. Looking for a little trouble seems to run in the family, and she wants to fit in so badly somewhere that she’ll do what she can to find it.”

“What do you mean ‘runs in the family’? You don’t know me. You don’t know us.”

“And whose fault is that? I’ve been trying for a month to have a conference with you about your sister. I’m your neighbor, for God’s sake, and I never see you.”

“What are you saying? You want to hang out and shit? Have a barbecue in the fucking backyard? We’re trouble, as you just pointed out.”

“I didn’t say you were trouble. I’m saying you aren’t paying attention,” she emphasizes as if proving her point. “I get it that it’s a guy thing, so I’m trying to help you out.” A guy thing? She raises a hand to stop me from speaking as my mouth falls open. “And before you say you don’t need my help, a word of advice from a younger sister to an older brother, your authority might be better received without the attitude, the yelling, and the rough voice.”

I stare at her. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You care about your sisters,” she states as if she does know me. “You probably want what’s best for them, even if you don’t know what that means. I realize they were thrust upon you, so you’re a bit out of your element, but you can’t treat your sisters like you might treat some . . . some woman friend.” She tosses her hand out at me, swiping it up and down to emphasize her point, which I still can’t read. “A little tenderness goes a long way with a girl, especially sisters.”

“I’m not a gentle man.”

Her eyes widen, a gleam passing through them, and then she straightens.

“And I don’t have women friends, whatever the fuck that means,” I state, still gazing into those fire-blazing orbs. Her chest heaves as she glares at me, and it takes everything in my power not to close the final inches between us and kiss those cherry-red lips.

Instead, I pull something from my leather jacket.

“And as long as you’re freely giving your opinion, think this will work for Lys?” Tricia’s porch light is on so she can read the box in my hand. Her eyes drift down to the packaging before popping back up to my face. Surprise is written all over hers. “Yeah, you’re right. I do care.” I wiggle the box of allergy medication at Tricia. “But I’m not their father. I’m not even a parent, so forgive me if I’m fucking this up. I’m out of my element, like you said, and with girls . . . shit. I know even less about what I’m doing with sisters.”

She’s still staring at me, mouth gaping.

“Before you want to pass judgment as quickly as you pass the salt, maybe you should take a better look at the material. You’re a teacher. Study harder.”

Frustrated once again, I fight the urge to kiss those cherry-red lips just to shut them. Instead, I turn on my heels and hop down the steps in one leap, not touching a single one before my feet thud on the concrete in front of her house. Quickly, I cover the distance between our homes and open the door to my own. Before I slam my own door again, my eyes hit on someone standing in the street. I quickly notice his clothes—camouflage pants and a dark T-shirt—but I don’t recognize the guy.

“Get out of here,” I holler at the stranger, overreacting a bit, but the last thing I need is an audience to my failure with my neighbor.

+ + +

A few hours later, things really fall apart. In the middle of the night, the heat should have kicked on. The temperature has dropped, and it’s freezing in the house. I need to keep the temp low to save money, but Lys needs the temperature higher to combat the cold mixing with her allergies. Either way, the heat does not kick on. The carbon monoxide detector goes off, and before I can get it to quiet, the fire department shows up.

I’ve only pulled on my jeans, and I shout for Lena and Lys to cover up and get out of the house. It’s freaking freezing inside but even colder out. The three of us stand in the driveway as two men enter the front door, and the fire chief comes up to me.

“You live here?”

“Leon Ramirez,” I offer, holding out my hand, feeling that old familiar tremble of anxiety in the presence of a person in authority. It’s not that I’m afraid of him. It’s just a natural reaction to hold my ground.