Reckless Kiss

“It’s going to be okay.” My insides are churning, but I don’t want her to cry.

I know how important her family is to her, and I feel like I’m starting to understand why she tried to put off this meeting for so long. Not that I understand what the hell’s going on here, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is her cousin’s party and Sofia’s fear, and I don’t want to be the cause of her pain.

“I don’t want you to go.”

“I’ll be back.” I give her a smile, hoping it comforts her. “Trust me.”

“I trust you.” She stretches up to kiss my cheek before giving her brother a withering look and going up the stairs.

My shoulders drop, and I turn, ready to end this shit show. I’m at the door when Beto catches me by the shoulder.

“I know all about you, Dring.”

“You don’t know anything about me.” My voice matches his tone. I’m not afraid of this guy. The only thing holding me back is Angel.

“Oh, yes. I know you.” He smiles coldly.

Mateo steps closer, as if he’s waiting for a signal. Valeria makes a scolding noise behind us, and I glance over to see the teens all watching with wide eyes. My stomach tenses, and I know I’d better go before I forget my promise to my girl. I’m ready to smash this guy to bits.

“If I ever see you with my sister…” He points two fingers, aiming them slowly like a gun to my face. “I’ll put a bullet… right there.”

My hand is on the door, but before I leave, I step back, speaking quietly. “My feelings for Angel are real.”

“Her name is Carmen.” He steps closer, putting us almost chest to chest.

My breath ticks higher. “What’s your problem?”

“I’m correcting past wrongs.” Light flashes in his eyes. “I’d better not see you with my sister again.”

8

Angel

I’m sitting on my bed with my back against the pillows. Sofia is on my lap, hugged against my chest, and I slide my fingers through her soft hair, soothing her as well as me.

Thinking about tonight reminds me of that ancient, black and white clip of the Hindenburg, engulfed in flames and burning up everyone with it.

My brother acted like a total jackass, and I will not be treated like a prisoner in his home… like I have much choice in the matter at this point.

A fact that makes me really, really frustrated and angry.

Sofia lifts her little head, looking at me with tearful eyes. “I wish we were at mamma’s house. I wish you were making me monkey bread and tucking me in for stories.”

Monkey bread… It’s been a long time since I made my improvised version of that cinnamon-bun delicacy. I would use canned biscuits and a melted butter-cinnamon drizzle.

“I can tell you a story, Snicklefritz. We don’t need monkey bread.”

“I wish we had some.” Her voice is small and sad and I pull her tighter against my waist.

I know what she means. Warm, buttery cinnamon bread makes everything a little more bearable.

“I wish we had some, too.” I’m quiet, thinking of cold nights and warm bread and old movies.

“Uncle Beto was like King Triton breaking all of Ariel’s treasures.” She sniffs, looking up at me. “Ariel runs away to Ursula after that. Are you going to run away?”

The wobble in her voice aches my throat, and I squeeze her tighter. “No…” I exhale heavily. I want to leave. I want to cry and throw things.

“I’m an adult. Adults don’t run away from their problems. We face them.”