Page 111 of Outspoken

I stand there with heavy legs, conflicted. I don’t want him to think I’m leaving because of him. I’m only trying to escape seeing Miguel. “Well…” I say, glancing at Marta, who is holding my hand and grinning up at me with shining eyes. “I could hang out a little longer and—”

“Oh, let’s watch a movie,” Marta cuts in. “Angel and I watch movies when Miguel is gone. You like detectives?”

“I’ll watch if Angel wants to.”

He finally looks at me, standing taller and shrugging. “Sure.”

“Cool.”

Marta grabs the cat so there’s an open spot on the couch, and then we settle in—Marta on one end with the cat, Angel in the middle, me on the other end. Angel doesn’t reek of weed this time, and I wonder if Marta has been setting him straight.

After she starts the movie, she says, “Miguel should be back soon.”

“Hope not,” Angel grumbles.

“Oh, hush,” Marta says, swatting his knee. “Be nicer. He brings you all the foods you like.”

Angel scoots his hips forward so he can lay his head back on the cushions. “He’s fake. I hate fake people. Our whole family is fake.”

Marta frowns at me, shaking her head. “This boy. He doesn’t give them a chance. And he does things to make them angry, so that’s why they’re angry.”

Resting his bare foot on the edge of the coffee table, Angel responds, “Why should I give anyone a chance? They don’t do it for me.”

Marta shakes her head again.

“I don’t think Miguel is fake,” I offer. “He’s a little quick to jump into things and he forgets about his own needs, but he genuinely cares. And he stays positive even when he’s got a lot going on. He’s reliable. He won’t give up on you even if you want to give up on yourself.” I choke on the last word and angle my head away, sniffing.

And he wants kids.Something I can’t offer.

Yet, my love deepens the more I talk about him.

“Doesn’t matter,” Angel says. “He’ll kick me out like everyone does.”

“Don’t give him a reason to, mijo,” Marta says. She pats his knee while giving me a loving smile.

“We’re missing the movie,” Angel grumbles, trying to focus on the TV.

Marta nods, petting the cat in her lap while I force myself to stop thinking about Miguel. It’ll only make me cry, and my heart is broken enough.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Miguel

I GROAN AS SOON AS the car is parked in the driveway, relieved to finally be home but aware there’s so much left to do. My energy is dragging. It was a rough day at work because I took on extra clients to help cover the costs of Angel living with us. I’d also like to take him shopping since the clothes and shoes he has are falling apart.

Errands took way too long, it’s late, and I still need to make dinner. Though I bet Angel found something to microwave from the freezer and Mom nibbled on some leftovers. I may only need to cook for myself, but I’ll probably batch some meals so they have food tomorrow.

It’s not like Angel ever eats dinner with me anyway. I know he spends time with Mom when I’m gone—which is great—but he avoids me like I have the plague.

I wish I knew what to do about that.

Doesn’t matter right now. First, I need to carry these groceries in and start cooking enchiladas, even if I’m the only one eating. It’s supposed to be Angel’s favorite meal, and I’m pretty good at making them, so I’ll see how it goes. He seems to have the same endless appetite as I have, so maybe the enchiladas will entice him to sit with me on the couch.

Probably not.

Instead of going through the garage, which is a maze packed with Mom’s stuff that she refuses to donate but never actually uses, I grab the first load of bags from the trunk, then I head to the front door. As I move the keys to the lock, I hear laughter. I pause to listen. It doesn’t sound like the TV. It sounds like people talking and laughing in the living room.

Glancing around, I notice a car parked across the street. It looks familiar, but I can’t place it. Maybe a random cousin stopped by.

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