CHAPTER FIVE
Ruben
I stand in front of the weathered oak door of my childhood home, my hand hovering over the brass lock. The familiar scent of Elena’s green pozole drifts through the air, stirring memories of countless family gatherings. I take a deep breath, bracing myself.
Laughter and chatter from inside grow louder, and warmth spreads through my chest. No matter how conflicted I feel, a part of me always longs for this—the comfort of family.
I step further into the house, and it feels like a hug in itself. Family photos cover the walls, each telling a piece of our shared history. Laughter echoes from the backyard—my nieces and nephews, probably locked in one of their endless games.
“Look who finally decided to grace us with his presence!” Gabriel’s voice booms as soon as I cross the kitchen’s threshold. He raises a glass in my direction, a grin splitting his face.
“Traffic was a nightmare,” I lie, forcing a smile. I don’t mention that I sat in my car for twenty minutes debating whether to walk in.
Elena emerges from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. “Ruben!” she says, pulling me into a hug. “We were starting to think you got lost. Come help me heat up tortillas.”
Her perfume mingles with the aroma of pozole, and some of the tension eases from my shoulders. “Sorry, hermana . You know I wouldn’t miss your cooking for anything.”
“That’s why you need to learn,” she teases, her eyes sparkling. Her hair is piled on top of her head, a messy bun that somehow works.
David claps me on the back, a grin on his face. “Too busy making the big bucks to hang out with us common folk, Mr. Big Shot Lawyer?”
I chuckle, even though it stings. “You know me. Burning the midnight oil.”
Melanie, David’s wife, studies me with a softer look. “We’re glad you made it,” she says gently, her brow furrowing like she can tell something’s off.
Settling in, I accept a glass of horchata from Martin. The chatter swirls around me, a warm mix of teasing, stories, and laughter. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t fully relax. The weight of my dilemma sits heavy, a stark contrast to the joy filling the room.
“You okay , hermano ?” Gabriel asks quietly, leaning closer. If you only knew, big brother . “You don’t look like yourself.”
I take a long sip of my drink, trying to buy time. “Just work stuff,” I say finally. “Nothing to worry about.”
But even as the conversation shifts and the laughter flows, I feel like an impostor. Here I am, soaking up my family’s love and warmth, while my job is tearing another family apart.
The back door swings open, and my dad steps out, wiping his hands on a faded apron. Ignacio Posada—calm, steady, the man who’s weathered every storm life has thrown at him.
“ Mijo .” His voice is full of love as he pulls me into a bear hug that smells of cilantro and home. “You look tired. The firm working you too hard?” Ah, the song of the day.
I laugh, but it feels hollow. “You know how it is, papá . Always another case, another client.”
He doesn’t press, just pats my cheek. “Come, let’s eat. Food makes everything better.”
Elena sets the pot of pozole on the table with a proud flourish. “A little taste of home,” she announces, ladling the vibrant green broth into bowls.
As I inhale the familiar scent, something in my chest loosens. “You’ve outdone yourself, Lena,” I tell her.
“It’s more than food,” she says, beaming. “It’s our story. Every spice, every ingredient, it’s us.”
I smile, the knot in my stomach loosening a bit more. Then Destinee, bless her curiosity, asks, “So, Ruben, how’s that big case? Martin mentioned a theater?”
My spoon clatters against the bowl, and for a second, I forget how to breathe. “It’s… progressing,” I say, avoiding their eyes.
David leans forward. “Come on , hermano . You’re not usually this tight-lipped. Spill.”
I take a deep breath before admitting. “It’s an eviction case. The owners refuse to sell, and the buyer, my client, wants the property. It’s complicated.”
The air in the room changes, tension seeping in. Gabriel frowns. “But you’re all about tenant rights. What changed?”
I clench my hands under the table. “Sometimes we take cases that aren’t ideal,” I say, hating how hollow it sounds.
Silence stretches out, heavy and uncomfortable. Then Gabriel leans closer, his voice steady. “This doesn’t sound like the Ruben I know. What’s really going on?”
For a moment, I want to tell him everything. About the firecracker of a woman who’s turning my world upside down. About the guilt clawing at me. But instead, I just shake my head. “It’s complicated,” I mutter.
Gabriel doesn’t push, but his hand rests on my shoulder, solid and reassuring. And for now, it’s enough.
The questions are written all over their faces. My siblings—each of them so damn sure they know what’s best for me. The air in the room, heavy with the scent of pozole and unspoken judgment, presses down on my chest like a goddamn weight.
“I’m doing what I have to do,” I say, my voice harsher than I mean it to be. It sounds like I’m trying to convince myself, and maybe I am. I’ve told myself this so many times it’s practically a mantra, but it doesn’t feel like enough when I see the doubt in their eyes.
Gabriel leans forward, elbows on the table, his dark eyes boring into mine. He’s always been like this, a bossy and protective older brother. “I hear you,” he says, his tone calm but deliberate. “But this doesn’t sound like the Ruben I know. What’s really going on?”
My jaw tightens. He knows me way too well, and Gabriel’s smart, too perceptive, and it grates on me. “I told you, it’s complicated. The city has interest in the place.” I mutter, dragging my spoon through the broth in my bowl without eating.
Gabriel doesn’t let up. He reaches out, clamping a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm. “We’re family, Ruben. If something’s eating at you, we want to help. You know that, right?”
My throat tightens, words catching there. Gabriel’s always been this way, relentless but caring.
I’m saved by Erin, who lays a gentle hand on his arm and says, “Maybe we should give Ruben some space. Legal matters can be… sensitive.”
“True,” Destinee chimes in, her voice warm with understanding. “But we are family. This is our safe haven.” She smiles at me, and it’s genuine. “Whatever’s going on, we’ve got your back. Text us, and we will be there with a shovel.”
Melanie nods. “Destinee’s right. Ruben, when the time comes, when you’re ready, we are here to listen.”
David leans back in his chair, his arms crossed as he stares me down. “So, little brother, you’re working for the devil now?” he says, his tone half-teasing, half-serious.
“I wouldn’t call him the devil,” I shoot back, though the comparison isn’t far off. “He’s… determined.”
“Determined?” Elena cuts in, her voice dripping with mock disbelief. “That’s what we’re calling morally bankrupt now?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Can we not do this right now?”
Martin chuckles, grabbing one tortilla chip from the pile in front of him. “You know, you could just say no to him. It’s a complete sentence.”
“And lose my shot at making partner?” I snap, the words coming out sharper than I intended. “I’ve worked too hard to walk away now.”
David raises an eyebrow, his tone measured. “Worked hard or sold out?”
Fucking David. He knows what he’s doing.
The room falls silent for a moment, and I feel all their eyes on me. The judgment, the concern—it’s suffocating. They don’t get it. They’ve never had to prove themselves like I have.
“You think this is easy for me?” I ask, my voice low but steady. “You think I enjoy doing his dirty work?”
Gabriel softens, just a bit, but his words still sting. “We think you’re better than this, Ruben. That’s all.”
Elena reaches across the table, her hand landing on mine. “We’re just worried about you.”
“I’m fine,” I say, pulling my hand away. “I’ve got it under control.”
Martin snorts. “Yeah, you look like a man in control. Totally not on the verge of a breakdown.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I mutter, pushing back from the table. “This conversation is over.”
But as I stand, ready to get out of here, Gabriel’s voice stops me. “Ruben, wait.”
I turn, and for the first time in a long while, I see something in his eyes other than criticism. It’s concern. Genuine, unfiltered concern.
“We just want you to remember who you are,” he says quietly as I park my ass on the chair again. “Don’t let him take that away from you.” I won’t admit this out loud, but I’m not sure who I am anymore. And that terrifies me more than anything else.
Cardan’s voice cuts through the warm reassurance. “As someone who’s been on the receiving end of an eviction notice, I’ll tell you—it’s brutal. But good people sometimes end up on the wrong side of these things. It’s rarely black and white.” His gaze meets mine, steady and knowing, and I’m surprised by the gratitude that wells up in me for his words.
“I appreciate that,” I say, my voice rough, emotion threatening to surface. “It’s just… I owe the firm. I owe Aiden. He gave me a shot when no one else would. And now…” My words trail off, stuck somewhere between my head and my heart.
Emmie, Elena’s bossy daughter, comes and sits on my lap. “ Tío Ruben, when are you dancing with me?” Ah, my little niece, the apple of my eye.
“What?” I ask her, before kissing her plump cheek. “Isn’t your father dancing with you?”
Emmie’s nose scrunches before replying. “My father doesn’t know how to dance. He looks like a robot.”
Cardan makes a gaspin g sound, and my sister bursts into laughter, pulling everyone’s attention. After taking care of her daughter, Elena animatedly tells a story about her latest kitchen disaster, and for a moment, the weight on my chest lifts. Her hands flail wildly as she recounts trying to teach her daughter, Emilia, how to make tortillas, flour exploding everywhere.
Gabriel quips, “At least you didn’t burn the house down this time,” earning a chorus of laughter.
Erin steps in with a teasing smile. “Come on, Gabe. We all know Elena’s pozole makes up for any kitchen disasters.”
My father raises his bowl, declaring, “To Elena’s pozole—the glue that holds this family together!”
The laughter and cheers spread around the table, and I find myself joining in, the knot in my chest loosening slightly. This is what family does. They push, they prod, and they remind you who you are. But they also give you space to breathe when you need it most.
As the meal winds down, Gabriel catches my eye and nods toward the front door. “Want to get some air?”
I follow him outside, the cool evening air a welcome contrast to the warmth inside. We stand on the porch, the familiar scent of the rose bushes Dad planted years ago for my mother mingling with the crisp autumn breeze. It’s quiet out here, just the wind blowing across the mango orchard or the faint laughter from inside.
“So,” Gabriel starts, leaning against the railing. “What’s really going on? I know that eviction is weighing on you, but there’s more to it, isn’t there?”
I tense, my fingers gripping the railing. “What makes you think that?”
Gabriel chuckles softly. “Come on, Ruben. I’ve known you your whole life. You’ve got that look, like you’re carrying the weight of the world. Spill.”
I exhale slowly, dragging a hand through my hair. “There’s this woman,” I admit, my voice low. “She’s… inconvenient.”
“Inconvenient?” Gabriel raises an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound promising.”
“It’s not supposed to be,” I snap, more at myself than him. “She’s in the middle of all this—the reason the owners won’t sell. But I can’t… I can’t stop thinking about her.”
Gabriel’s quiet for a moment before he smirks. “So, she’s under your skin.”
“Under my skin?” I let out a humorless laugh. “She’s rewired my brain. I’m supposed to be focused on this eviction, but all I can think about is her… her arguments, the way her eyes flash when she’s mad.”
“She makes you feel alive” he completes the sentence, and damn it, he’s too good at this.
I look away, staring out at the street. “Maybe. But what about my obligations? The firm, the eviction…”
“Life isn’t just about obligations,” Gabriel cuts in, his voice steady. “Sometimes the people who challenge us the most are the ones who help us grow. Maybe she’s not an inconvenience. Maybe she’s the push you need.”
I’m quiet, his words settling in a place I didn’t know needed filling.
“You don’t have to figure it all out tonight,” Gabriel says, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “Just trust yourself a little more. Maybe even trust her.”
I nod, not trusting my voice. Gabriel’s always been the steady one, the one who knows what to say. I don’t know where this path leads, but for the first time in a long while, I feel like I’m ready to take the first step.