Page 35 of Espíritu

“Because once we tell, we cannot take it back,” Enrique said firmly. “And until he is your formal family—until there is a vow between you—this conversation is different.”

As if the only way Julian’s people could count as family was if Yadriel’s dad could stamp them with a marriage seal. As if everyone’s life bent toward that narrow path. He clenched his jaw, swallowing the frustration before he said something he’d regret.

“We’ll discuss it again,” Enrique said, already retreating upstairs. “When the time is right.”

Lita’s hand found Yadriel’s shoulder. “Tu juicio es bueno,” she murmured. “Even when others can’t see it yet.”

His family was never going to change. He and his friends would just have to figure it out on their own.

The quiet of the house pressed in, heavy where laughter had been minutes ago. Yadriel stayed rooted in the kitchen, jaw tight. The wards hummed against the windows, steady and patient. He wished he could be, too. But he couldn’t wait that long. Something had to change.

SIXJULIAN

Night settled over the cemetery, chill threading into Julian’s bones. Walking between Maritza and Angel, he caught the scents of damp soil and faint incense from earlier offerings.

Maritza split off at the gates. “I gotta head home,” she said, pulling her jacket tighter. “I’ve got about ten minutes before my mom starts blowing up my phone.” She huffed and rolled her eyes.

Julian gave her a quick side hug. “Night, Maritza!”

She gave Angel a polite nod and vanished down the street.

Angel stopped at a beat-up Honda parked just beyond the cemetery gates.

“Guess I’ll catch you later,” they said, but it sounded like they didn’t mean it.

“For sure, I’m around!” Julian said back, hoping that she knew he really did mean it.

He lingered, watching them open the car door—then froze. The overstuffed back seat was impossible to miss. Clothes piled high, a blanket and pillow crammed into one corner, a blinking charger in the cupholder. Recognition hit.

This wasn’t a pit stop. This was home.

“Living out of your car, huh?” He couldn’t not ask.

Angel stilled, keys in hand.

Julian knew what it was like to pretend he was fine when he wasn’t. After his dad died, there were nights when even sleep felt impossible. If it hadn’t been for Carlos giving them the apartment above the shop, he didn’t know where he and Rio would’ve ended up.

“That sucks,” he said, because it did.

Angel still didn’t say anything, but Julian could see their embarrassment mixed with defiance. They probably wanted him to drop it, to just walk away, but he couldn’t.

“It gets freezing cold at night—well, freezing for California, which is like in the sixties, which is probably a lot colder than Texas, I don’t actually know,” he reasoned out loud. When Angel just stared at him, he kept going. “What I’m saying is, you shouldn’t sleep out here. Come back to my place! It’s not big, but we’ve always got room for one more?”

Angel’s voice cut sharp, shoulders tense. “I don’t need your pity.”

Julian backed up a step. “It ain’t pity!” He held his hands up in surrender. “It’s what friends do! They look out for each other.”

Angel shifted from side to side. “Friends, huh?” they repeated, like testing a word they weren’t familiar with.

Julian grinned. “Yup. I’ll even ask my brother—he’s the legal adult, so technically he’s the boss.” He thumbed out a text. Seconds later, a thumbs-up emoji popped back. Julian held the screen out. “See? Green light from el jefe himself!”

A laugh escaped Angel before they could stop it. They shook their head at Julian. “All right. But just for tonight.”

“Deal!” Julian clapped them on the shoulder. “Now, am I walking, or are you giving me a ride?”

Angel rolled their eyes but opened the passenger door. “Just don’t touch the radio.”

Julian gave them a salute. “Scout’s honor!”