Page 18 of Storm

Before I’m ready, the Uber slows to a stop in front of the home I grew up in, peeling paint and all. With a sigh, I thank my driver, who stayed quiet during the drive, and tug my bag higher up my shoulder as I stand outside.

“Well, here we go…” I trail off the moment my youngest brother comes flying out the front door.

Damián is barreling down the front walkway and slams into my stomach, hugging them tightly. “Miri! I’msoglad you’re here! I haven’t eaten inweeks!”

Rolling my eyes, I pick him up and settle him on my hip. “I’m sure that’s not the case, Dam. What’d you have for breakfast?”

My brother wrinkles his nose. “Fuckin’ cereal!”

“Hey!Are you kidding me? Watch your mouth!” Scowling at him, I wait until he looks apologetic before continuing into the house. “Cereal is perfectly fine for a meal.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, he juts out his lower lip and slumps his shoulders. “It fu-freakin’ sucks.” Then, as if he didn’t just act as though his world was ending, he leans toward me and cups my cheeks, squishing them together. “I’ve missed you,hermanita.”

My stomach lurches, reminding myself that no matter how frustrated I become with my family, my brothers are precious to me. Rubbing my nose against his until he starts giggling, I press a sloppy and loud kiss to his cheek. “I’ve missed you too,hermano.”

I carry him inside, blowing wet kisses all over his cheeks as he fights me off, enjoying the way he squeals. We both knowhe loves it, no matter how much he pretends to fight me. The moment I step into the kitchen, I freeze with the exception of my eyes bulging.

Dishes. There are fucking dishes piledeverywhere.

“What in the hell…” I mutter, trailing off as my eyes roam over the counters stretching from one wall to the next. Damián doesn’t fight me as my arms go lax and he slips from my hold to make a quick retreat toward the living room. I have no idea what he calls out to everyone, but I don’t give a shit.

I’mfurious.

“What in the actualfuckis happening in here?” I cry out to no one and everyone. César stumbles into the war zone that used to be our kitchen, scowling at whomever just shoved him toward me. “César!” I snap, whipping my head toward him and jabbing a finger toward the sink. “That is fucking disgusting! It smells like ass in here! Why hasn’t anyone taken care of this?”

I feel no pity toward him when he hunches his shoulders and glares at me.

“It’s not my fault. Dishes aren’t on my chore list. What am I s’posed to do about it?”

Holding my arms out wide, I indicate the entire room and let my voice carry enough so everyone can hear. “YOU DO THE GODDAMN DISHES! THAT’S WHAT YOU FUCKING DO!”

He straightens his shoulders until he’s hovering over me at his full height. Through clenched teeth, he grits out, “Why? It’snot. My. Job. Take it up with Ale and Loren. They’re the ones that are supposed to unload and load the dishwasher. I do the kitty litter and Cristián does the trash!”

“Why are you yelling?”

Both César and I jerk our heads toward our papá’s voice. César holds his hands up in defense as I whip my arm out to point toward where the sinkusedto be, buried underneath whatlooks like every single dish from the cabinets piled inside and filled with moldy, stinking food.

“That! How the hell is anyone supposed to make anything in here when every damn dish is filled with rotting food?”

My dad simply puts his hands on his hips and shrugs at me. “We’ve been busy, Miri. Sometimes it gets out of control. Wasn’t this bad a few days ago when you were supposed to be here.”

Narrowing my eyes at him, I open my mouth to argue, but immediately can tell that he’s not in a mood to be tested right now.

“Why don’t you send a couple of the boys out to pick up pizza for everyone?” I ask, pressing my fingertips to my temples and massaging them gently to ease away the ache already pounding through my head. Then, I drop my arms to push up my sleeves. “I’ll get this mess cleaned up, but papá, you can’t let it get this bad. There’s no reason they can’t load and unload the dishes every day.”

Glancing away from me, he scratches the back of his head. “I don’t have the cash to pay for pizza for all those boys. Not ‘til I get paid again. They eat me out of house and home half the time.”

“Here,” I say, ignoring the pit in my stomach when I pull out a hundred from my wallet. I normally keep emergency funds on me, but between the Uber after I left that godforsaken cabin, and now this, I’m going to have to restock.

With a nod, he doesn’t answer me. Instead, he shouts, “Cristián! Take Ale and grab some pizza for dinner!” Leaving me alone in the kitchen, I wait until the cheers die down, then sigh loudly as I shove my sleeves up to my elbows.

Holding back my gag, I start rinsing and stacking dishes to handwash later. After some time of scraping old food into the trash and wiping down counters, I start scrubbing as I hear my brothers arrive with pizza.

“Save me some!” I shout, not wanting to stop since I’ve finally made some progress. Someone responds, but it’s muted through the shut door to the living room.

I quickly run out of room to stack the clean dishes on the counter, so I turn with a freshly washed pan to stack on the island behind me, only to come face to face withhim.

“Lucifer,” I whisper hiss.

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