Page 53 of Privilege

“Lucia—”

“I think it’s exactly the same,” Lucia interrupted, unwilling to budge on her point. “And you can phrase it however you want. You can paint our family with whatever golden brush you would like to—God knows we can afford to paint ourselves however we want society to see us, right? But he can’t. He’s who he is, so you see him as he is. He’s not covering up the things he doesn’t want the rest of the world to see like you do—like the rest of our family does. It’s exactly the same; I don’t care what you say.”

She had no reason to defend Renzo. After the way he left her that morning, she could have just thrown him to the wolves and said fuck it while she did so. That might have been the better way to handle it, really.

Still, she couldn’t.

If she put this morning out of her mind, and thought about all the other things she knew about Renzo, then the truth was far clearer to her. He struggled. He was barely keeping his head above water. He had the responsibility of taking care of his siblings, and keeping himself alive. He was doing the best he could with what he had been given, even if it wasn’t very damn much.

Nobody had the right to judge him for that.

Certainly not her father.

“Lucia,” her father said as she opened the door to the house when he stepped aside, “you’re to stay away from that young man. I’m not asking. I am telling you this. Stay away from him.”

Nope.

Definitely not.

And if she did, it would because she chose to keep her distance. Not because someone had told her to do it.

Simple as that.

• • •

Lucia shifted the messenger bag hanging over her shoulder to ease some of the weight. She was focused on making sure she didn’t trip over the edge of the shelter’s entrance as she came out of the front doors instead of staring straight ahead.

Maybe she should have done that.

It would have prepared her for him.

But probably not.

“Got somewhere to be, princess?”

Lucia’s head snapped up, and she found Renzo leaning against her Lexus. As usual, he looked like bad news standing there in his ripped jeans, combat boots, and a leather jacket thrown over a simple, white T-shirt. Like he didn’t have a fucking care in the world except for the thing he was staring at in that moment.

Her.

A lit cigarette dangled from his fingertips as he blew out a heady cloud of grey smoke, and flashed her a smile that had her insides turning into knots.

Fuck him for doing that to her.

Instead of thinking about the way this guy made her feel—all the good and awful things—she chose to focus on the little boy holding tight to a toy truck as he stood next to his older brother’s side.

“Hey, Diego,” Lucia greeted. “Were you at daycare today?”

Diego smiled widely, and nodded. “I was. You wasn’t there today.”

“I worked in the kitchen today.”

“Oh.” Diego glanced up at Renzo, saying, “Is she gonna come, Ren?”

What?

Renzo patted Diego on the top of his head with a large hand, and passed Lucia a look. “Yet to be determined, buddy. So, are you busy, princess, or what?”

Lucia bristled.