Chapter 7
RAUL
…present day
"Alvarez," a guard calls down the cell block.
I lift my head. "Yeah?"
"You got a visitor."
The door buzzes open and he grabs my arm, chaining my wrists behind my back. The metal cuffs bite cold into my skin, and for one wild second my whole body goes rigid. Nobody comes to see me. Not here.
My mind goes straight to her.
Her smile flashes in my head so fast it almost hurts. My pulse kicks harder with every step, some stupid, desperate part of me hoping it's Olivia. Hoping she came. But also hoping she didn't.
We turn the corner and pass through the security doors into a little barred box with one chair inside and two outside. The guard pushes me into the seat, then leaves me there alone.
I sit staring at the empty chairs, my stomach sinking lower with every second that passes. This is how disappointment feels in here. Slow. Public. Humiliating.
Then the outer door opens.
Diego walks in with a man in a suit.
The relief that hits me is so sharp it almost makes me angry.
"Hey, cuz!" I say, and I hate how rough my voice sounds.
It's the first time he's come to see me, and even though it's only been three weeks, it feels like months of carrying this place by myself.
His grin breaks open as soon as he sees me, and for a second he looks young again.
Like the ten-year-old kid who used to laugh too loud in Aunt Val's living room.
I want to tell him how much I missed him. How much I needed this visit. How every letter he sent was one of the only things keeping me from feeling like I'd already been buried.
Instead I just swallow hard and sit up straighter.
"Hey, man. This is Mr. Dominguez," Diego says.
"You can call me Steve," the man adds, calm and professional, like he belongs anywhere but here.
"Nice to meet you," I say, trying to sound steady.
"He's one of the attorneys at Harvee's new law firm," Diego says.
That lands wrong immediately.
My eyes flick between them. My chest tightens. This wasn't supposed to be about me. The money wasn't supposed to go toward fixing my mess. Diego knows that. He knows I didn't want to drag anyone else into this.
"They're taking on Ma's case," Diego says.
"Okay," I manage, but the word comes out thin.
"Pro bono. And I think we may be able to help you out too," Steve says, nodding toward the bars.
There it is. The part that should feel like hope.
Instead it feels like guilt with a heartbeat.
"How?" I ask.
"Since you confessed, we're going to try to tie your plea into the case. I need to be clear with you — this doesn't make everything disappear. But it could shorten your sentence."
I should feel relieved. I should feel grateful. Maybe I am, buried somewhere under all this fear. But all I can think about is Olivia. Not even the sentence. Not even the walls. Just her face if she ever sees me again. Just her name in my hands like something breakable.
"What do you need from me?" I ask.
"Just your cooperation for now. I'll be back with paperwork. Mostly to appoint me as your attorney."
"Okay," I say. "Anything."
"You look good, man," Diego says, and his voice cracks on the last word.
That's when it really gets me.
Because he's lying a little. Or maybe I am. Nobody looks good in here. Not really. Lack of sleep is worn under my eyes, darkening them beyond recognition. But he says it anyway, because family will say the things that keep each other standing when the truth would knock them over.
"So do you," I tell him.
His eyes go wet immediately, and that's worse than if he'd just cried outright. Diego has always tried so hard to be the one holding everybody else together. Seeing him unravel for me feels wrong. Like I've failed him in a way I can't fix.
"You didn't have to do this," Diego says, swallowing hard.
"DJ, you know I did." I mean everything I'm too ashamed to say out loud. "It's okay." I shake my head, staring at the floor because I can't stand to look at him crying for me. "It's not like I had anything going for me anyway."
The words come out before I can stop them, and the second they do, I hate myself.
Because it's not true. It's just how grief talks in here. How prison makes you think your life is already over before the sentence even starts.
Then Diego tilts his head. "Hey. Who's Olivia?"
And the air changes.
My whole body stiffens.
"Just a girl," I say too quickly. "Why?"
"Just a girl, huh?" He gives me the kind of look only family can give you. "She's been asking around about you. You should reach out."
For a second I can't breathe.
She was asking about me.
The words hit me harder than the cuffs. Harder than the sentence. Harder than anything since I got locked up. Because it means I wasn't erased. It means she still thinks about me. It means my name still exists somewhere outside these walls.
My throat closes up. "You told her where I was?"
"No," Diego says, then hesitates. "But your dad did."
That lands like a punch, except it's followed by something worse. Relief, maybe. Hope. The kind that hurts because it doesn't stay still.
Diego laughs, trying to lighten it. "Uncle Ernie's always been nosy as hell."
I let out a shaky breath that almost turns into a laugh and almost turns into a sob. "Both of our parents," I manage. "Remember junior year? I was talking to that girl outside of school and Aunt Val ran up like she was the FBI? Interrogated her about whether we were being safe."
Diego actually laughs then, through the tears. "That's Ma."
"Wrap it up!" the guard barks, stealing the moment before it can turn into something softer.
"Yeah," Diego says, breaking into a crooked grin. "That's what she said."
A snort escapes me before I can stop it, and just like that I'm laughing too, shaking my head. I missed this. Diego's stupid dad jokes. The way he can still drag a little light into a place that tries its hardest to crush it out of you.
We all stand.
Steve gives me a respectful nod. Diego blows me an exaggerated kiss, and for one split second I'm back in a world where the people I love still feel close enough to touch.
The guard turns me around.
The walk back to my cell feels longer than the one coming in. The cuffs bite into my wrists, the fluorescent lights hum overhead, and every step echoes too loud in the narrow hall. But none of that is what sticks with me.
It's the fact that Olivia is thinking of me.
How she found me to write me that letter.
And I still can't tell if that's mercy or punishment.