Chapter Eleven
“Thanks again!” David called from the driver’s seat in the van.
“Anytime.” Lilí bent down to peer at him through the open front passenger window, still riding the high of her team’s win.
A round of thank-yous and catch-you-laters were shouted by the middle schoolers in the moments before Diego closed the vehicle’s side door, giving it a pat to alert David that he was good to go.
She and Diego stood on the curb, waving as the white fifteen-passenger van with the youth center’s multicolored helping-hands logo on the side pulled away. Around them Cubs fans of all ages crowded the sidewalk, laughing and joking, recalling, even reenacting, an amazing play from the game. Overhead the “L” rumbled to a stop on the raised train’s platform crossing Addison Street.
“You sure you’re up for a drink at the Cubby Bear or Sluggers?” Diego asked.
The smart thing to do was beg off and take the stairs up to the platform. Or hail a taxi and head home.
Lilí considered herself a smart person. However, with the joy of sharing the Wrigley experience with the kids sparking her enthusiasm and after spending the past few hours hyperaware of Diego’s every move beside her, she wasn’t ready to walk away from him. Not yet anyway.
Besides, they’d be in a crowded bar, what could she possibly do that she’d regret?
“Sure, let’s go,” she answered.
Diego grinned, then gestured for her to precede him. Like he had the other night when he’d driven her home after the photo ID, he looped an arm around her lower back, angling his body to shield her from the jostling fans at his side. The protective gesture was endearing, if old-fashioned, but since it put him a little closer to her, she didn’t mind.
“Great game, huh?” he asked.
“Any game that ends with us winning, is a great one,” she answered.
The bill on his cap created a shadow over the top half of his face, leaving his eyes shaded, but his white teeth flashed with his smile. She returned it with one of her own, a lightness in her step she recognized stemmed from the anticipation of spending more time with him.
One block later they reached the bar, showed their IDs to the bouncer, and waded into the revelry. Diego’s hand slid from her lower back to reach for hers. She linked her fingers with his, telling herself the gesture was simply to avoid them getting separated in the crowd.
It took them a good fifteen minutes before they were able to belly-up to the bar and order their beers. The place was a madhouse, packed with post-game partyers.
While they waited for their drinks, she and Diego chatted about the game, the kids . . . It was hard for Lilí to follow at times, seeing as how they stood facing each other, her thighs and hips occasionally brushing his in the crush.
Someone bumped into her from behind and Lilí stumbled into Diego. His arms looped around her to steady her and she grabbed on to his waist.
“Sorry,” she mumbled.
“You okay?” He peered down at her, his hands resting low on her back, his long fingers skimming the top part of her butt.
She nodded. All the while savoring the tingles of awareness his touch sent shimmering through her.
“I wasn’t thinking about how packed it would be,” Diego said, bending closer so she could hear him over the din.
“Yeah, it’s always like this after a game. But the positive energy is invigorating.”
Or maybe it was him invigorating her.
He craned his neck to take in the crowd, before tipping his head toward her. “We’re packed in here like sardines, yet you manage to find the silver lining. It’s one of your best qualities.”
“Among many, right?” she teased.
A light flared in the depths of his eyes. His fingers flexed on her back and she pressed closer to him.
Diantre, he smelled delicious. Sweat and sunscreen and the earthy scent she would always associate with him. She wanted to bury her nose in his neck. Breathe him in.
Instead, she curled her fingers in his belt loops underneath his Cubs tee, trying to hold on to her sanity at the same time she held on to him.
“Here you go!” the bartender called.
Diego released her to pass the guy some cash in exchange for their pints. Holding them aloft, he called to her over his shoulder. “Let’s see if we get lucky and find an open table somewhere in the back.”
She nodded, then grabbed a handful of his shirt so they could stick together.
As luck would have it, an older couple stepped down from their stools at a high-top table at the same time the crowd spit out Lilí and Diego nearby. The gentleman waved them over to take their places.
“Thanks!” Diego told the couple.
“Sure, go Cubs!” the older man answered with a grin.
Lilí offered her thanks as well, before clambering onto the black bar stool and making herself comfortable at the small round table.
“Cheers!” Raising his pint glass, Diego clinked it with hers. “To a successful day all around.”
“Definitely! The kids had a great time. I’m thrilled the Cubbies were able to give them a win today.”
Diego nodded as he took a healthy swig of his beer. “So how’d you get to be such an avid Cubs fan? I’m thinking the genesis had to have been long before Ben Thomas and your cousin hooked up. It’s her brothers who play, right?”
Leaning her forearms on the faux wood tabletop, Lilí nodded, wondering how he knew so much about her family. More than likely David, who thought very highly of Ben, had blathered. Ben was actually a major donor to the center’s sports program and, along with her cousin Julia, actively involved with the entire Chicago youth center system’s fundraising efforts.
“I mean, you’re like a walking Google search on the team’s history,” Diego added.
She chuckled at his exaggeration, but his question made her think back on her first game at the park. “You know baseball’s big on the Island, especially winter ball. So naturally, my Papi was a huge fan. I grew up watching or listening to Cubs games on WGN with him. He and I came to my first live game when I was about six.”
“Without your sisters?” Diego asked. He mimicked her position, leaning on the table, head angled toward hers.
“Mami and Papi always made a point of spending one-on-one time with each of us girls. Time when we had their undivided attention. Papi’s and my trips to Wrigley were part of our father-daughter outings together.”
“That’s a pretty cool idea. In my family it was a little different.”
“How so?”
“Bueno.” He drew out the word, as if thinking back on his childhood. “My mami was a single mom, so even when she wanted some peace and quiet, she was the only one we could turn to. Looking back, I rarely recall her doing something just for herself. She was always working, volunteering at the church, and looking out for my sister and me.”
“What about your dad?” Lilí held up a hand before he could answer. “I’m sorry. That might not be something you want to share.”
“Nothing earth-shattering to tell.” Diego took another drink, then plunked his pint glass on top of the table. The corners of his mouth curved down with what she thought might be indifference. “Raúl was never around much. Then, when I was about five, he took off for Puerto Rico and never came back.”
It was a story of abandonment she commonly heard from the women and children who came into the clinic. Still, its commonality didn’t make it any less painful for those who experienced it. Empathy welled inside her and Lilí placed a comforting hand on Diego’s forearm.
His gaze cut from the scratched tabletop to meet hers. She expected anger and resentment. The apathy in his eyes was probably worse.
“Do you ever hear from him? Or see him?” she asked.
“No. I reached out to him twice. Once when I was Héctor’s age. Again before I left for the army. Both times asking for the funds needed to cover a decent rehab program for my sister.”
He paused. Ran a finger down the condensation on the outside of his glass.
She waited, hoping he would elaborate, but it wasn’t her place to push if Diego didn’t feel like talking about it. Even though she honestly believed doing so might be a good thing.
“He responded with some lame song and dance. Excuses to avoid his responsibility.” Derision sharpened Diego’s features, curled one corner of his mouth. “I deleted his contact from my phone after the last time.”
Lilí winced at the harsh move.
Then again, maybe the young Diego had learned what it took many others much longer to grasp: You can’t control how others behave or think. You can only control yourself. Do what’s right for you and your loved ones. It was a recurring topic at the clinic.
Cutting off contact with a man who’d shown no interest in being a loving, contributing member of his own family might have been the healthiest way for Diego to cope. That didn’t make it any less difficult.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” she said softly.
“It’s not the first time you’ve heard something like this. If you stay working where you are now, it won’t be the last.”
“Doesn’t mean it hurts any less.”
Diego’s chin dropped to his chest and he shook his head slowly from side to side. “Damn, how do you do that?”
“Do what?”
The music switched to a popular party anthem and Lilí ducked closer so she could hear him.
He angled his head, piercing her with a look so full of longing it stole her breath. “How do you manage to say the right thing? Validate someone’s crappy feelings, even when they’re pretending to ignore them, so they . . . they feel less crappy?”
“Oh, I don’t know that I really do—”
“Stop.” Diego sandwiched her hand with his on his forearm. “Don’t discount yourself. What you do is amazing.”
She stared up into his dark eyes, moved by the sincerity in their depths. “Thank you for saying that.”
“It’s the truth.”
His fingers lightly caressed the back of her hand. A slow, tantalizing motion that made her yearn for his touch in other places. She watched his gaze slip from her eyes to her mouth. Instinctively, Lilí licked her lips, remembering his taste.
Diego’s head moved a fraction closer. Paused.
Lilí held her breath, wanting more than anything to feel his lips on hers again. To experience that connection she’d only ever felt with him, that evening in his living room. Instinctively she leaned toward him.
“Go Cubs goooo! Go Cubs gooooo!”
The cry sounded right behind Lilí, making her start and jerk back in surprise.
Diego grabbed her shoulder to keep her from falling off the bar stool as a group of college guys burst through the crowd chanting the tune. Fists pumping the air, beers sloshing, they were in full celebration mode.
A shaky, nervous laugh bubbled up from her chest as she mimed a fist pump back at one of them. Disappointed as she was by the interruption, Lilí had been in their shoes many times in the past. In this same bar. No way could she be annoyed by their poor timing.
Settling back on her stool, she sat up tall. Farther away from Diego’s delicious temptation.
He lifted his ball cap and adjusted it back on his head. The sheepish grin he shot her was reminiscent of Héctor’s when the boy had tried sneaking one of her fries during the game. Just as she’d willingly offered more to the kid then, she most certainly wanted to offer more to Diego now.
That might be dangerous.
Or not.
She couldn’t decide, especially when she was with him and the fire simmering between them sparked into an inferno.
“Anyway,” Diego said, sitting up on his stool as well.
“Raúl was, still is I guess, nothing like your dad. Reynaldo, right?”
Lilí nodded, pleased he’d remembered Papi from the Puerto Rican Festival performances.
“Based on the way you talk about him, seems like Reynaldo was a great father.”
“Ay, we were lucky. My papi was the best. Mami used to say they broke the mold after they made him.” The memory of the love on Mami’s face whenever she spouted that line made Lilí smile. “My sisters and I pretty much agree. About both our parents, really.”
She took a swig of her beer, the hoppy tang rolling over her tongue as happy childhood memories flashed in her mind.
“My mom, Alma, was the same.” Diego picked up his glass and saluted toward the ceiling. “Que descanse en paz.”
Lilí had murmured that same prayer for a loved one to rest in peace countless times when thinking about her own parents. She gave a respectful sign of the cross and Diego acknowledged it with a “thank you” tilt of his head.
“Mamí worked long hours to provide for my sister and me,” he continued. “But she always made sure it was clear that we were what was most important to her. She had a fun side, could play dominoes for hours, and oh how that woman loved to dance.”
The faraway, almost blissful expression on Diego’s face as he spoke about his mami was like a lasso looped around Lilí, drawing her to him. It spoke of a kindred yearning for those who had shaped their lives, and continued to do so, even though they were no longer with them.
“I remember one year at the Fiestas Puertorriqueñas, Reynaldo and Los Paisanos were playing, which of course meant my mom had to be there.”
Despite his beleaguered tone and twist of his lips, Lilí couldn’t resist holding up a hand to cut in. “Can I just tell you, Papi would have been thrilled to hear you say that. He really enjoyed playing for people who loved the music as much as he did.”
“Yeah, I know what he meant,” Diego answered.
“I’ve never played for a big crowd like Los Paisanos have, but I understand the feeling of knowing your audience truly appreciates your art.”
Witnessing the pleasure Papi had found in his music mirrored in Diego pushed Lilí closer to the edge, leaving her on the verge of thumbing her nose at caution and taking that leap she kept telling herself to avoid. Dios mío, the other night she had definitely appreciated his talent. Among other things.
Yazmine’s reminder of Papi’s letter when they’d been sitting on Lilí’s couch together whispered through her head.
Lilí silenced it. Diego was not her músico. He couldn’t be.
“Pues, my mom was definitely a Los Paisanos fan,” Diego continued. “I’ve got her CDs to prove it.”
Lilí laughed, contentment washing over her at his wry chuckle.
“She sounds like a wonderful woman,” Lilí said. Alma Reyes had to be if she’d raised a good man like him all on her own.
“She was.” The love, pride, and ache of absence he felt for his mom colored Diego’s words. They were evident in the way he rubbed at his chest, directly over his heart.
Captivated by his deep emotion, by his ability to share those feelings with her when many men would hide them, Lilí’s insistence on their incompatibility dissolved a little more. Maybe she had judged him too harshly.
Diego cupped his hands on either side of his empty pint glass, gliding it back and forth through the condensation pooled on the table. “My mom was strong, determined. She had a quick sense of humor and cared deeply for others. Like you.”
He grasped the glass with one hand, stopping its motion. The same way his words ensnared her heart.
The revelry and music surrounding them faded to a dull roar in Lilí’s ears.
“Gracias,” she whispered, too moved to say much else.
One of his broad shoulders rose and fell in a half shrug. An earnest, almost tender look crossed his features when he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Like I said before, it’s the truth.”
Ay. Dios. Mío.
Scared she might be falling for him, too hard and much too fast, Lilí pushed herself into the familiar role she had assumed with her family after Mamí had died. When Lilí had learned to hide her pain and uncertainty behind laughter or a joke to ease the discomfort of others.
“Pues, in my world, unlike yours, there are shades of truth.” She wiggled her hand playfully in a so-so gesture. “What you view as determined, Rosa usually calls stubborn or hardheaded. You say humor. Yazmine says I need to take things seriously. But I do know how to lighten the mood when needed. And that’s a key skill.”
She winked, pretending his words hadn’t affected her as much as they had. Wishing she hadn’t finished her beer so she could wash down the truth trying to force its way out. The truth that somehow he managed to see the real her those closest to her didn’t.
“I’m sure they’re aware of your skills,” Diego countered. “Maybe I don’t know your sisters that well, but you can tell the three of you have a strong bond. That’s something my mamá would call a blessing.” He paused, his thick brows creasing with a frown before he continued. “I used to have that with—”
His cell phone vibrated on the tabletop. Diego glanced at the screen, then pushed the side button to ignore the call.
“With whom?” Lilí asked when he didn’t go on.
He’d been talking about her sisters and she wondered if he’d started to share something about his. The one who, according to him, had chosen incorrectly when it came to right and wrong. The one she’d bet he deeply missed. If not, why the anger and latent disappointment?
His phone vibrated again. The same local area code and phone number flashed across the front.
“I should probably get this. Make sure it’s not something for work.” He picked up the phone, but instead of answering, he asked, “Do you mind?”
“¡Ay, no! Por favor. I’d do the same if it was my work.” She waved off his question, then swiveled on her stool to give him some privacy.
“Reyes here,” he answered, his voice that same gruff, I-mean-business tone he’d used the first night they’d met.
Lilí watched a young couple nearby dancing to the music’s heavy beat. Well, more like grinding, but who was she to judge. She’d done her fair share of dirty dancing. Still did with the right partner. Like say . . .
“Lourdes? Is that you?”
The anxious tone in Diego’s voice drew Lilí’s attention and she spun back around to face him.
“What’s going on? Where are you?” He fired off the questions. With the phone at one ear, Diego stuck a finger in the other to block out the noise. He slid off his stool. His body tense. His face a hard mask of stony resolve.
“Cálmate. Lourdes, calm down.” He repeated the order firmly, shaking his head at whatever his sister was saying on the other end. “I can’t . . . you’re not making any sense.”
His mouth thinned as he listened to whatever his sister was saying. His expression grew even more intense in the moments before he ordered, “Look, tell me where you are and I’ll be right there.”
He gave a brisk nod as if his sister could see. “Don’t leave. I’m on my way.”
Diego stabbed at the icon to end the call. When he glanced at Lilí anger and concern stared back at her. “I’m sorry. I have to go. My sister—”
“Hey, no need for you to apologize.” Lilí stepped down from her seat and slipped her wristlet wallet onto her arm. “Familia primero. That’s what my parents always taught us. Go take care of your sister. Family first. Always.”
“Thanks.” His frown deepened as Diego started to move away. All of a sudden he doubled back, bending down to brush her cheek with a kiss.
“I hate leaving like this. You deserve better,” he said softly.
His knuckle grazed her jawline in a gentle caress. Then he disappeared into the crowd, leaving her wondering what he meant.
And wanting so much more.
* * *
Diego pulled up in front of the dilapidated corner store in the seedy part of Burnside, tires squealing.
The entire drive he’d racked his brain, working to piece together how the hell Lourdes might have wound up all the way down here on the South Side of Chicago. And who the hell she’d gotten herself mixed up with this time.
He spotted her leaning against the side of the store building, right by the Plexiglas® front door. Smart move. In her current position she could easily see and be seen by the clerk inside. Having a witness might offer some semblance of protection from whatever loser she was trying to get away from.
Her curly brown hair was longer than the last time he’d seen her. What, six months ago? Now it hung past her shoulders in a bedraggled, knotted mess. The skintight, cropped red tank and minuscule black skirt she wore left little of her curvy body to the imagination. More than likely she figured her outfit, capped off by a pair of high-top Converse wedge heels, made her look stylish. Guaranteed to catch a man’s eye.
Yeah, the wrong type of man.
Had their mami been here, she would have told Lourdes to go change into something less revealing. Preferably something in Lourdes’s size rather than clothes meant for the likes of the plastic dolls she used to play with.
Her gaze jerked to his Charger when he screeched to a halt. Fear flashed across her face. The fresh bruise on her left cheek had anger rising in his chest.
Diego jammed the button to roll down the passenger window.
“Get in!” he called out.
Lourdes leaned forward to peer at him, but stayed where she was, uncertainty stamping her features.
“If you want my help, you’re gonna get your ass in my car. I’m not hanging around here.” He kept his gaze trained on the group of men gathered in a close huddle near the entrance to the back alley. All sported loose T-shirts and saggy pants belted below their butts, their necks weighed down by thick gold chains.
One held a big wad of bills. Another dug deep in his front pocket for something. The others were obviously relegated to lookout based on the way they kept busy scanning the vicinity.
Diego had no intention of finding out what might be going down between them. His focus was on getting his sister out of harm’s way. For that to happen, she had to stop being difficult.
He ground his teeth in exasperation, waiting to see what his hardheaded sister would do.
She approached his car in a moody shuffle, but didn’t reach for the handle.
“Tú me llamastes a mi, Lourdes,” he reminded her.
“Yes, I know I called you,” she grumbled, finally opening the door. She tossed a worn, oversized backpack onto the floor and plopped down in the passenger seat.
He didn’t even bother waiting for her to get settled before he pulled away from the curb.
“Buckle up,” he ordered.
“I am. Give me a minute. You’re hauling outta here like El Cuco is on our heels.”
Her reference to the Spanish bogeyman that had terrified him as a kid might have made him laugh if the situation had been different. The memory of him being four or five and her sitting on the end of his bed until he fell asleep flashed at him in a blast from the past. He pushed it away.
That had been before things went downhill. Before their mami had died.
The thought of his mom and the stress Lourdes had caused her soured any sweet trip down memory lane for him.
“Where we headed? I ain’t going to no shelter or rehab joint. Don’t need it.” Arms crossed, Lourdes shot him a glare.
He took a right turn, driving toward South Greenwood Avenue. “Going to Burnside Park. I figure it’s a safe place to talk. You can tell me what you’ve got going on.”
Hopefully being in an open spot would calm her. Keep her from getting too anxious and blowing him off like she had the last time they’d spoken.
She’d called him in a state of panic. Same as today.
They’d met at a fast food place in Englewood. Some run-down joint where the employees stayed behind protective glass and the tables could barely support a plate of the greasy food they doled out. It had been obvious that Lourdes was in between scores, in need of a fix. She’d been nervous. Antsy. Easily agitated.
He’d been pissed. Worried. Disappointed in both of them.
No amount of trying to convince her to go to rehab had worked. She’d felt pressured and had ultimately stormed off in a profanity-laced snit.
Flash forward six months and here they were. Same story, different day.
They reached the park and Diego pulled into a shaded spot facing the playground. The late afternoon sun hung lower in the sky, casting long shadows from the trees and park equipment.
“You wanna get out? Maybe sit at an empty bench?” he asked.
“Sure. Whatever.”
His frustration over her sullen attitude threatened to boil over. “Look, I’m trying here. But you don’t make it easy.”
“You think I wanna hafta call you like this?” She shoved a hand through her curls, the motion drawing attention to the various shades of purple marring her cheek.
The thought of someone putting their hands on his sister kicked his protective, man-of-the-house machismo into overdrive. “Who did that to you?”
Lourdes ducked her head so that her wild curls covered her face. “It’s nothing.”
“A bruise the size of my fist isn’t ‘nothing.’” His fingers clenched on the steering wheel. “Tell me who it is and I’ll have a conversation with him about the consequences of punching my sister.”
“You don’t know him,” she sidestepped.
“Looks like you shouldn’t either.”
She huffed out a breath. “Always preaching, hermanito, aren’t you?”
Unbuckling his seat belt, Diego twisted to face her.
“That’s because your little brother”—he stressed the nickname she’d used—“wants what’s best for you.”
“And you know what that is, huh? You have all the answers and I know nothing. ¿Verdad? Right!” She answered her own question, then tugged on the door handle and pushed out of the car, grumbling the whole time.
For a second he was afraid she was already blowing him off. Set to disappear again like she had the last time. Then he noticed her backpack on the passenger floorboard.
Relieved she wasn’t bugging out, but not taking any chances, Diego slid out of his car and clicked the lock button. If she took off again, she’d have to get in touch with him for her bag.
He followed Lourdes to a dark green, thermoplastic-covered table shaded by a large oak tree about twenty feet away. Off to the right, a group of kids ran around the playground in a rousing game of tag. Their cries screeched through the air. A young mom pushed her toddler on the baby swings, the little boy’s legs kicking his glee in the yellow booster seat.
Lourdes jerked her chin at him as he approached. “When’d you turn into a Cubs fan? Thought football was more your thing.”
“I took some kids from the youth center to the game today with a gir—with another chaperone.” He tried to amend the explanation, hoping to avoid any questions, but it was too late.
Lourdes’s face brightened with interest. “Oh, so you gotta girlfriend now?”
“No. Just a friend. Someone I know from work. Kind of, anyway.”
He rubbed at the tight muscles in his neck, avoiding eye contact with Lourdes as he stepped over the bench seat across from her. His relationship with Lilí wasn’t a topic he cared to discuss with his sister. Not when he couldn’t figure it out himself.
“I see how it is.” Waving her pointer finger through the air at him, Lourdes bobbed her head side to side with attitude. “You can ask me twenty questions, expecting answers. But you’re gonna hold out and zip your lips when I ask one.”
“It’s not like that,” he said on a heavy sigh.
Coño, he knew better. A harsher word than “damn” burned the tip of his tongue at his foolishness. Interview Techniques 101 taught him that if he wanted Lourdes to trust him, he had to build a rapport. “I responded to a DV call recently. The other chaperone works at the Victim’s Abuse Clinic in the Humboldt Park area, so she knew the victim. Turns out she volunteers at the youth center, too.”
“Hmm, so you been spending time with her, huh? Any sparks?”
More like fireworks.
Lourdes waggled her eyebrows like she’d read his mind.
“It wouldn’t work.” He brushed aside her teasing.
“She sees the good in everything. In everyone. She’s out to save the world, and I’m . . .”
“You’re a hard-ass.” Hands clasped on the table, Lourdes gave him the frank look he remembered from his childhood.
At one point in their lives, she’d been the hard-ass. If their mom was working late and he tried talking his way out of doing a chore or going to bed on time, Lourdes had called him on it. Rarely cutting him any slack.
But then things changed. For a long time now their situations had been reversed.
“Only when I have to be. And for good reason,” he said.
His gaze roamed over his sister, seeking signs of drug withdrawal. Her pupils weren’t dilated. No tremor or shakes indicating restlessness. Sure, her hands were clasped, but the last time he’d been with her, her knee was bouncing so fast he thought she might come out of her skin.
“You got your fill?” She arched a brow at him. “I’m clean. Haven’t had anything in nearly four weeks. Plan to stay that way.”
He squelched a spurt of joy at her claim. Four weeks wasn’t all that long, and he’d heard this same promise before. Had fallen for it countless times. So had their mom, one time too many.
“I’m serious. Me tienes que creer,” she insisted, spreading her hands palms-up across the table toward him.
His heart pounded in his chest. Dios, how he longed for that to be true, but their history had jaded him. “I don’t have to believe anything. I want to, but you’ve made that pretty difficult.”
“Fine, be a prick then.”
She pulled back from him, mouth twisted in a derisive scowl, as if she didn’t care either way. But in the seconds before she turned to stare out at the playground, he caught the flash of pain in her dark eyes.
A breeze kicked up and she speared a hand through her curls, pushing them out of her eyes. “Did you answer my call so you could just be a jerk to me then?”
Nuh-uh. He wasn’t going to RSVP for her pity party either. It wouldn’t do her any good, and that’s all that mattered to him, ensuring she got the help she needed. From him or someone else.
Maybe someone like . . .
He stopped that line of thinking before he got any further. No way was he getting Lilí involved with his sister. He refused to play any role in stripping Lilí of her optimism. If that happened, he’d never forgive himself.
“I answered because we’re familia,” he told Lourdes.
“But you’re not leveling with me. You call in a frenzy, and now won’t tell me what’s going on. What is it, you need a place to stay?”
“Believe it or not, I’m working on a plan.” She picked at the chipped red polish on her short nails. “Like you’d let me stay with you if I needed to anyway.”
“I would.”
That got her attention. Hope sparked on her face. The same way it used to spark on Mami’s when Lourdes would show up out of the blue. He, on the other hand, had learned to be leery.
Sure enough, Mami would welcome her back, under certain conditions, only to have Lourdes wind up making another bad decision and taking off again.
“You always have a place with me, as long as you abide by the rules.”
She sucked her teeth dismissively. “Yeah, your rules.”
“Same ones Mami had. Stay clean. Get a legal job. Stay away from the people who aren’t your real friends.” He counted off each one on a finger.
Lourdes pressed her lips together in a sullen pout.
He refused to back down. Despite Lilí’s caution that not everything was black and white, he knew that with his sister, he couldn’t waver. For her own good, as well as his.
A sound trilled and Lourdes reached deep into her cleavage to pull out a burner phone.
How the phone had managed to stay wedged in there when her chest looked like it was ready to pop out of the small crop top, he had no idea. Then again, he’d seen some uncanny ways undercover cops stashed their weapons. Lourdes might be able to teach a few of those guys a thing or two.
He waited while Lourdes read the text message. Her shoulders relaxed a fraction, then her thumbs started tapping away at the keyboard in response.
“Patricia says I can stay with her,” Lourdes finally said.
“Wait, Patricia, your friend from high school?” Pushing his palms into the table’s curved edge, Diego leaned back in surprise. “The one who’s been in and out of rehab, damn, I lost track how many times now?”
Lourdes shoved the phone back into her cleavage. “Don’t judge.”
“Yeah, right.” He shook his head, bewildered by the idea that this might be his sister’s plan. “Let me get this straight. You don’t wanna stay with me because I have too many rules. But it’s okay to stay with the person who introduced you to your first dealer?”
Lourdes blanched, her tan skin turning a pasty color.
Exasperated by the fact that she’d choose to stay with Patricia instead of accepting his fair offer and coming home, Diego pushed to his feet and stepped over the bench. He stalked a few paces away before spinning back around to face her. Arms extended out at his sides, he gaped at her, completely confused by her lack of reason. “In what world is that a good idea, Lourdes?”
Anger tightened her jaw. The purple bruise on her cheek gave her a tough, brutish look that matched her narrow-eyed glare.
“In my world.” She stood up, hands fisted on her hips. “Look, I know I’ve screwed up. A lot. Some mistakes, you may not ever forgive me for.” Her voice broke on the last few words. Her chin trembled and he could see her struggling to fight off tears.
Was this the way it would always be between them? Arguments, hurt feelings, unspoken accusations.
At a loss for how to fix the situation, Diego scrubbed a hand over his face. Desperation tightened his chest, despair choking the words in his throat. Had Lilí been here, this entire conversation probably would have been handled differently. Then again, it was always easier to deal with things when you had no skin in the game.
“I called you because I was scared.”
His gut clenched at Lourdes’s softly spoken admission.
“But you can’t ‘fix’ me, Diego. I gotta do that myself. On my terms.”
He wanted to rage that she was wrong. Yet deep inside, he knew she wasn’t.
The water under the bridge separating them was murky. Far too many times it had risen to make the bridge impassable. If he was honest, there were times it had been his fault as much as hers.
Like after Mami died. Back then, the blame game between him and his sister had been brutal.
It didn’t matter how badly he wanted Lourdes to be safe and healthy, and in his life. Or how much he felt he owed it to his mom to see her wish for her daughter to have a good life come true. Lourdes needed to want all that for herself.
If she was clean now—big IF—she might be on the right track. Though he seriously believed that relying on Patricia was a big mistake.
“Fine,” he said, on a heart-heavy, guilt-laden sigh. “You want me to back off. I’ll back off and we’ll do things your way.”
“You being real with me?” Lourdes eyed him with skepticism. The lack of trust in her narrowed gaze was like a shank to his midsection.
“Yeah, I am. Come on, I’ll drop you off.”
He’d drive his sister over to Englewood, then he’d start keeping an eye on the comings and goings at Patricia’s house. He wasn’t leaving anything to chance.