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I shrug out of my blazer and hand it over. She dabs it with a damp cloth. “I heard he was moving back from Mexico. Looks like today’s the day.”
Leaning to the side, I watch as he speaks to Angel. Her hands twist and she pushes her hair back. She drops her chin and nods, and I can see she’s nervous around him. I don’t like it.
“It’s not coming out.” She shakes her head, wrapping it in a loose bundle. “I’ll have it dry cleaned.”
“No way.” I slide the garment out of her hands. “I’ll take care of it. You guys are on a shoestring budget as it is.” My phone starts buzzing, and when I see the face, I frown. “I need to take this.”
“You should go. I’ll tell Carmie you said goodbye.”
“I want to talk to her. I’ll just be a second.”
“Deacon.” She fixes brown eyes on mine. “I’ll tell her you said goodbye.”
Angel’s on the other side of the door, standing at her brother’s side, and my jaw tenses. I want to go out there and introduce myself, but Lourdes guides me to the door.
“Just give her some time, okay? You’re one of the good guys.”
Possession and frustration war in my chest, familiar feelings I’ve struggled with growing stronger through the years. When we were young and separated so much, I could understand. Not anymore.
“I’ll call her later.”
“You should probably let her call you.”
I take one last look at my angel before pushing out the door.
2
Angel
My arms are around Deacon’s waist, and I’m humming with the thrill of him being here at last. Tall and strong, he smiles, and I watch the muscle in his square jaw move as he banters with Lourdes.
It’s been a month since we were together, and I want to kiss him. I want to bury my face in his neck and inhale his clean scent of citrus and soap. I want him to lift me off my feet and take me away from this world like only he can do.
Then the baby barfs all over him.
Then my brother appears.
It’s like a bucket of ice water right in my face. Beto’s looking around the room, and I say a silent prayer as I step away from the group, going to meet him, hoping to avoid any questions.
When I was little, Mamá would say I had intuition. She would say I could sense things before they happened.
She also said family was the most important thing. She would say we had to love each other, have each other’s’ backs, but after she died and I came here to live with them, I didn’t even know them.
My brother was an angry mystery. When I was a little girl, before Mamá took me to Mexico, I remember him carrying me on his hip. I remember him smiling, and twirling my curls around his fingers. I remember him sweet.
Then I came here and he never smiled. He also didn’t stay.
I arrived, and a week later he left. I became a guest in my cousin’s home. She treated me like family, but I was very aware I was an extra mouth to feed, an extra person to clothe, a potential burden in her life…
I did my best to help with the chores, care for her two daughters, do as I was told, stay out of trouble.
“My little sister.” Beto pulls me into a hug, and I’m surrounded by leather and tobacco.
My brother takes after my dad—darkly handsome, with straight black hair that curls around his ears. His eyes are so brown, you can’t see the pupils, and his white teeth are straight behind full lips. His body is lean and hard, and he hugs me roughly, almost painfully. “How long has it been?”
“A long time.” I smile up at him, hoping he doesn’t see the fear in my eyes.
I had hoped his return would mean we could get to know each other again. I had hoped we might be close, like we were all those years ago when I was a little girl.
