Page 5 of The Final Deal

Her eyes widen, and she nods so vigorously I think her head could come clean off. “Yes, please.”

I place the card back in the box before replacing it in its hiding spot.

“I’m worried about Dad.”

My expression finally falls. “Why are you worried?”

The snack she’s chosen crinkles in her hand. “He’s mad all the time now.”

“Hey, don’t worry about Dad, okay?” I tell her as I place a hand on her sharp shoulder. “He’s upset about Mom, so I think it’s hard for him to talk about her.”

Her silence transforms into a trembling lip once more.

I squat at her level and take her face between my hands. “If you ever wanna talk about Mom and Dad doesn’t want to, then I will, okay? Just ask Dad for me and I’ll come runnin’.”

The trembling in her bottom lip stops, and she nods. “Okay.”

I pull her into my arms to hug her tight, hoping a strong embrace will fit most of the pieces together. “Your mama loves you and your daddy more than anything and anyone in this world. You know that, right?”

She nods weakly and sniffles. “I wish she would love me at home.”

The five-year-old crack in my heart threatens to burst, to let all the floods out when it most certainly should not. I hug her a little tighter to stop the bleeding in my own chest.

She chokes out, “Abby, I can’t breathe.”

I chuckle, smiling as I release her. “Sorry. Let’s see if your daddy and tios have talked things out. But eat your treat really quick and hide the evidence.”

We head back to the studio hand-in-hand as Robbie steps out of the building. The severity of his expression and the phone at his ear has me mouthing, “What is it?” at him as he passes by, but he waves the question off.

“Bye, Uncle Robbie!” Drea calls after him.

My brother stops in his tracks, mumbling, “Hold on one sec,” as he spins around. He leans down to kiss Drea on the head. “Bye, sweetheart.”

Her curious eyes follow him as he disappears around the corner of the house and I drag her toward the studio. Seems her little crush on him is going strong.

Inside, the twins and Shannon seem to have resolved things with all three scarfing down tacos. The al pastor Adrian holds in his hand makes my stomach rumble.

“Drea, c’mere,” Shannon says.

Her shoulders droop as she trudges her way toward him.

Adrian hands me a couple of foil-wrapped tacos and two salsa verdes. “Quit getting the barbacoa at Hernandez. Shit’s too greasy.”

I shrug. “All the more farts to keep you away with.”

His nose wrinkles as he shakes his head, but chuckles softly. “Remind me why I like you again?”

Snickering, I look over at Shannon and Drea; he hugs her tight and kisses her head before leaning over the coffee table to pop the white foam top of her cheese enchiladas. Movement in the guitar corner catches my attention, where Zak watches me as he chews on his go-to order of chorizo. The wink he gives me sends butterflies soaring in my stomach.

“Darkline’s asking about the next album,” Shannon says after scarfing down his carne asada. “Told ’em we already got a good amount of material, but I imagine Steph will wanna have a listen to give her stamp of approval first. And, you know, bring any material you might wanna include.”

“Hell yeah,” I say. “You got anything for the new album, hon?”

Zak swallows, but doesn’t say a word. The corner of his lips twitch.

“Don’t be chicken shit—bring it to practice,” I encourage.

“Seriously,” Shannon agrees. “Have you seen all the comments people are leaving on socials? They’re probably gonna riot if they don’t get another Zak Ramos original soon.”

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