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She pops a hand on her hip. “My fault?We wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn’t tried to cut me off.”
“I had somewhere to be.”
She throws her arms up. “Well, I was...”
Usually I crave silence, but something about Dahlia shutting down at the first sign of opposition frustrates me.
Bright flashing lights cast us in shades of red, white, and blue as a few of the firefighters hop out of the truck to assess the scene while two medics quickly determine both Dahlia and I are fine.
Cabrón:Bastard.
The older fire chief pulls Dahlia in for a hug. “Your mom made it sound like you were dying.”
Her eyes roll. “You know how overprotective she can be.”
The fire chief ruffles Dahlia’s hair. “She comes from a good place.”
“Lucifer said the same thing about hell.” Dahlia fixes her appearance with a pinched expression.
“Dahlia!” Rosa hops out of the trolley and runs toward her daughter with a rosary clutched in one hand and a bottle of holy water in the other. My own mom exits the trolley with a group of people trailing behind her, turning our car accident into a town reunion.
“Mami.” Dahlia checks out the crowd forming behind the deputy’s line. “Did you need to involve everyone?”
“Don’t start with me. ¿Qué pasó?” Rosa scans her daughter from head to toe before ripping the cap off the holy water.
For the first time tonight, Dahlia’s eyes twinkle brighter than the stars above us. “Julian crashed into me.”
That little brat.
Rosa stares at me as if I committed a felony.
I bristle at my mom’s voice as she storms over to us. “Julian? Tell me that’s not true.”
“Ma.”
She snatches the bottle of holy water from Rosa’s hands and gives me a swift blessing before sprinkling me with it. “What were you thinking by trying to run Dahlia off the road?”
¿Qué pasó?:What happened.
“That it’s a shame I failed.”
The fire chief covers up his laugh with a cough.
Dahlia’s heated glare threatens to burn a hole in the side of my face. “Don’t tell me you’ve spent all these years plotting my murder only to fail now?”
“Trust me. I won’t make the same mistake again.”
She flips me off.
“Dahlia Isabella Muñoz!” Rosa tugs at her daughter’s hand while my mother whisper-shouts, “Luis Julian Lopez Junior!”
My mom only uses my official first name on rare—and very pissed-off—occasions, so I better rein myself in before she loses her cool.
Dahlia and I sigh at the same time, and our gazes collide, scattering my thoughts until I’m left with only one.
Her.
The sheriff approaches the scene, saving me from embarrassing myself any further. Thankfully, the deputy with a personal vendetta against me stays far away, a blessing in itself given my bad luck today.
