Page 24 of No Sweet Goodbyes

I see the look on her face. The same one she used on me before she hit me with her chancla for the first time when I was a teenager and stayed out late and then decided it would be a good idea to talk back to her. I do what any rational man would do. I sit my ass back down and don’t move. Dinner is served less than five minutes later, but I don’t have a clue what everyone is talking about. I’m too busy trying not to breathe. If I take a breath, I know I’m gonna smell the unique floral and fruity mix that is naturally Emma. Even after a long day in my work truck, she doesn’t smell any different. It doesn’t fade. It doesn’t change. It is just… her. And if I smell her at dinner, it will be one more place that I’m not safe from her.

But as I watch her there, blending perfectly with my family without even trying, I’m lost.

“You’re fighting it,” Dad says quietly when we each have a plate full of pulled pork. “I did the same thing when I met your mother. I almost lost her before she was mine, and it killed me. Still, I fought it until I couldn’t. She almost married my best friend. Was engaged to him, ready to walk down the aisle to him, before I pulled my head out of my ass and told her how I felt. I had to grovel and beg her to walk away. To show her that I could be the best man for her. I lost his friendship, but I gained her.” He smiles at Mama across the table, love shining in his eyes. “Don’t make that mistake. It will ruin you.”

“There’s no mistake to make,” I tell him. “There can’t be anything with Emma. I can’t have her. I’m leaving. She’s leaving. She’s Danny’s little sister.” Letting the truth hang there for him to interpret, I completely turn my attention to the food on my plate.

“Do you know how I know you’re wrong, hijo? Not once in that little speech did you say that you don’t want her.” He pats me gently on the shoulder, leaving me to stew in my feelings.

“I’m dropping out of medical school,” Vi announces to the table as a whole after a few moments of quiet.

“What?” Emma pipes up first. “You’re not even in medical school yet. How can you drop out when you haven't tried it or given it a chance? Didn’t you just get your acceptance letter like a month ago?”

Vi stares down at her plate, moving her peas around like she did when she was a little girl and in trouble. Her chest rises a few times while she gathers her thoughts, and maybe her strength. “I can’t drop out. But I can change my mind and decide that I don’t want to do it. That I want to do something else. Something more.”

“Okay,” Mama speaks quietly from her seat.

Instead of watching them, however, I find my eyes locked on Bee. Little Bee, whose eyes are filling with tears and her shoulders are slumped, and I don’t have a clue why.

“Please don’t fight,” she whimpers, and everyone freezes.

“Bianca,” my dad says gently, yet firmly. “Look at me, pobrecita.”

When Bee looks at him, she flinches away, and I have to fight the urge to get up and go to her. When Emma moves, I shake my head sharply. She looks back to Bee and I see her uncertainty. Thankfully, she listens to my silent order, because my parents know exactly what they are doing.

“We’re familia,” he goes on, still using a gentle tone. “We discuss the hard things. We talk about our feelings, and when we don’t agree, we talk it out. There’s no fight here, Bee.”

Bee, with eyes shining, looks around the table, and it becomes clear what she expects. In my line of work, it is easy to forget the details. The people who are affected by the violence that we investigate.

“I just think it’s really admirable that Emma is going for her dreams, without holding back,” Vi tells us all, but her attention is focused on Bee. “So, I want to do the same thing. I mean, not the cop thing. But following her dreams regardless of where they’re taking her.”

While everyone’s attention is locked on Bee, on getting her through the chaos of her emotions, I focus on Emma.

Emma, who may be the only person in the world able to bring me to my knees with just a look. The exact same look she gives me when our eyes lock a moment later.

“I’ve got to go,” she whispers, scooting back and then fleeing.

When the door slams in the distance, all the attention in the room is on me.

Bee, the last person I expect to say anything, is the first to speak. “Go after her.” She points to the door. “Emma likes those movies. Where the boys tell the truth about how they feel to the girl.”

I get up. And I follow her out. Because I know better than to argue with a seven-year-old.

That… and I want Emma.

So damn much.

Even if I know it’s a terrible idea and whatever happens is definitely going to come back and bite me in the ass.

9

EMMA

A smart person would have gotten in their car and driven home. Maybe they would have also stopped and gotten tacos or chicken nuggets on their way home to fill the emotional void left behind by the lack of a full plate of Alta’s cooking.

I’m not a smart person.

Instead of going home, I think it’s a great idea to drive to the cemetery. In the middle of the night. Like a serial killer.

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