Page 103 of The Crush
“You’re not.”
“True,” I whisper. “Give me one minute.” I plant a quick kiss on his cheek, disappearing into the kitchen while he remains rooted to his current spot in the hall.
I see my mamá as soon as I turn the corner, her hair tied back as she stands at the kitchen counter with the water running and a sinkful of dishes. When she notices me, she flips off the faucet and grabs a towel from nearby to dry her hands.
“Thereyou are,” she says, surveying me up and down. “Ah, mija, you look so tired. Do you want a cold pack for your eyes?”
“No, I’m fine,” I say, smiling at her. “Thank you for coming.”
“Where is Danny?” she asks, peeking over my shoulder as if I could be hiding him behind my back. “Tadeo told me he came home late last night.”
“He did.”
She tosses her towel on the counter and starts for the hall.
“Mamá,” I say, intercepting her and leading her deeper into the kitchen, nearly to the back door with my hand on her arm. “Go easy on him, okay? I’ve already talked to him about a lot of it. I know Tadeo talked to him about it, too. He’s not going to go back into the DEA.”
“That’s good,” she responds, her tone unflinchingly firm. “But I still want to speak to him.”
I sigh. “Fine, but he told me what happened with—”
“I know what your father said to him,” she says quickly, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles in the front of her apron with her hands. “He told me. Which is why he is still in the barn. And will be for the foreseeable future.”
I hug her, a gesture she returns just as quickly, and my face is buried in her neck when I mutter, “Thank you, Mamá. I’m sorry. I still…I’m still so mad at him.”
“I know. I am, too,” she tells me, her hand brushing up and down my back until we both pull away. She sniffs, dabbing at her eyes with the corner of her apron. “That’s also why I want to talk to Danny and…remind him of some things.”
“Okay,” I agree hesitantly, my gaze shifting back to the hallway where I know he’s still waiting. This had been the point. The reason I told her to come over in the first place.Reinforcements.So that he would see he doesn’t have to face everything alone.
“I’ll, um, I’ll go check in with Tadeo then,” I offer, giving her one more quick squeeze before I add again, “Please, be nice.”
“Isa, have some faith,” she replies, focus already switching to the hall like a hunter spotting prey. “When am I ever not nice?”
Eighty-Three
Daniel
She did not just—
The kitchen is quiet now except for what sounds like an impatiently tapping foot, and…Yes, she did. She left me alone with her mother.
I pivot, but before I can get even two steps the other direction, the floorboard creaks beneath my foot as if even the house is in on it.
“Daniel Alejandro Ríos.” Eva’s voice comes directly from behind me now. “Wheredo you think you’re going?”
“To Hell probably,” I mutter, letting out a resigned sigh before I wisely turn. “Good morning, ma’am.”
“We’ll see,” she replies evenly, using the spatula in her hand to point in the direction of the kitchen table. “Sit.”
I stay put long enough to watch Eva’s eyes flare in warning and her grip tighten around her spatula. I give her as wide a berth as I can manage before making my way over, dropping into the indicated chair and resting my elbows on the table. Eva greets this lapse of judgment with raised brows until I correct it by moving my hands to my lap.
Seemingly satisfied for the time being, Eva turns away from me and heads for the fridge, pulling out a severely depleted carton ofeggs and a container of homemade salsa. She sets both alongside an assortment of fresh vegetables and herbs already out on the counter. Then she strikes up a match to light the two front burners beneath waiting skillets, remaining with her back to me for several long minutes of painful silence as she keeps her attention on the stove.
“Well, this has been great,” I finally venture, figuring that at least with the match safely out, my risk of being set alight has somewhat diminished. “I should probably go help out.”
“Who, precisely, are you going to be helping?” she returns, her hand hovering over each skillet to check the temperature before she pours a generous helping of salsa in one and a tab of butter in the other. Both sizzle when they hit the surface, the aroma of butter, tomatoes, onions, chiles, and garlic filling the air and making my mouth water.
I’m suddenly starving, my eyes trained on the food, which is how I miss at first that Eva’s eyes are still trained on me.
