Chapter 36
Miguel
I unlocked the door just after six. The sky outside had started to pale, but inside everything looked the same as when I’d left—clean, quiet, waiting. I set my bag by the wall, kicked off my shoes, and pulled out my phone.
Me: Home safe.
The message sent with a tiny click. I left the phone faceup on the counter and leaned there until the screen dimmed. No answer yet. Maybe he’d already fallen asleep. Maybe he just couldn’t risk replying.
Sleep wasn’t going to happen. I showered until the hot water ran thin and stood there anyway, forehead against tile, watching steam smear off the mirror like it was trying to erase me.
Sam’s face kept rising up, the way he’d looked at us down that hallway, surprise first, then something that flattened out into calculation.
Sam never said the wrong thing out loud.
His talent was saying almost enough and letting the room fill in the rest. I saw the way he’d looked at Ry and Xander when they’d come out last season.
While most of us were excited for our two stars, Sam wasn’t bubbling over with enthusiasm and support.
There was nothing for him to gain by keeping quiet. No loyalty there. Loyalty’s something you build, brick by brick, joke by dumb joke. Some guys never lay a foundation.
If Sam talked, it wouldn’t only be my name dragged through whatever came next. It would be his, and that thought was worse than the loss. I could take being the headline. I couldn’t stomach being the reason he was.
The floor creaked somewhere above me. A TV murmured on. Outside, a bus hissed at r. It was a normal morning in the kind of way that makes you crazy.
My phone buzzed.
Drew: Good.
One word. Careful. I stared at it until the screen dimmed, then brought it back with a tap and typed Sleep if you can. I deleted it. I wasn’t going to make this harder.
I decided to FaceTime my brother Manu instead. He answered on the second ring.
“?Qué lo que, Miguelito?” What’s up, little Miguel? His voice came in warm, already awake. “You look tired.”
“Long trip,” I said. Long trip. “Y perdimos.” And we lost.
“I saw.” A small click of sympathy. “Lo siento, hermano.” I’m sorry, brother. He leaned closer. “How’s your head?
“Clara,” I said. Clear. It wasn’t a lie, exactly. “?Y Carmen, y Elena?”
“Bien. Dormidas.” Fine. Sleeping. He tipped his chin. “Dime.” Tell me.
I looked at the grain in my coffee table until it swam. “Pasó algo,” I said. Something happened. I switched back to English, easier to be vague. “Someone on the team… saw me with someone else. They didn’t like what they saw.” My throat tightened.
Manu was quiet a beat. “You think he’ll talk?”
“Sí. I don’t have his loyalty.”
He studied my face through the screen, and I could feel him pulling the thread, unraveling what I didn’t say. “You sound scared, hermano.”
“I’m not scared.” I dragged a hand over my jaw. “I’m thinking ahead.”
“In our family,” he said, “that’s another word for worrying.”
A laugh scraped out of me. “He’s… ambitious.”
“Ambición no es mala,” he said. Ambition isn’t bad.
“When it’s a ladder,” I said. “Not when it’s a knife.”
He blew air out his nose, a half-snort that meant I hear you.
My brother made a low sound that said he understood more than the words. “Okay. Then listen. You can’t control someone else’s mouth. Only yours. And how you carry yourself when people are watching.
“I don’t want this to hurt him,” I said, switching back to English.
“Then you already know what you’re protecting. Don’t lie. Don’t give more than they ask. Speak plainly when it’s time.
I nodded. “He didn’t ask for any of this.”
“And you didn’t either.” A hint of a smile curled his lips. “But you chose it. That’s different.”
I let out a breath. “He could lose more than me.”
“Escúchame.” Listen. He lifted a finger like he was in the room. “If someone turns something decent into a problem, that someone is the problem. You keep your calm. And remember who you are.”
I swallowed. “You make it sound simple.”
“No es simple,” he said, mouth twitching. It’s not simple. “Starting simple helps.
He sat back a little. “You’re still with the guy you told me about?”
“Sí.” Yeah. The answer settled in my chest like it fit there. “And he’s good for me.”
“Then take care of it without hiding yourself. There are ways.”
I huffed out a laugh. “Give me the playbook.”
“Don’t invent fights before they start. When it’s time to speak, you speak. Direct.”
“Sí, capitán,” I said, and he snorted.
“You’re the captain in the crease, not me. His eyes softened. “You love him.” It wasn’t a question.
Love. The word hung there. I didn’t chase it away because I’d known I was in love with Drew for a while now; I was just waiting for the perfect time to tell him. But it just dawned on me that there wasn’t a perfect time to tell someone three precious words
“Yeah,” I said. “I do.”
“Good.” Manu looked at me hard, big brother in full. “Then love him smart. But don’t love him quiet. Quiet love is for people hiding from themselves.”
“I’m not hiding,” I said, more defensive than I meant to be. “I’m trying not to blow up his life. Mine too.”
“You can be careful,” he said, “and still screw things up because of fear.” His mouth tipped wry. “Ask me how I know.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Claro que sí.” Of course I do. “I thought I could outrun my mistakes. You remember how that ended.” Deportation isn’t a word you throw around at breakfast. He didn’t. He never needed to. “When you let fear make your choices, you only find out what fear wants. Not what you want.”
I braced my elbows on my knees and let my head hang between them. “If he loses his job because of me—”
“Stop.” The word was gentle. “If he loses his job because of you, that’s because the people around him choose cowardice”
He’d always been like this—hard truth wrapped in warmth. “What do I do?”
He tilted his head. “What you always do. Play the next shot in front of you. You can’t win a series in one save.”
“We already lost the series,” I muttered.
My brother chuckled at that. “You’re such a little smart mouth. What I meant is relax Breathe. Sit in the sun. Let the light touch you. It helps.
“You’re getting sentimental,” I said, but my voice was quieter around the edges
“Sabiduría,” he corrected, smug. Wisdom. “Te quiero, Miguelito.”
“Yo más,” I said, the old call-and-response making something uncoil in my chest.
“If you need anything, tell me.”
“I will.”
We hung up, and the line went quiet.
I switched over to the text I got from Drew and read Good one more time like it could tell me what to do next. It didn’t, but Manu’s voice hung around long enough to steady the ground under my feet.
Careful, not quiet. Whatever was going to happen was already on its way. I could meet it standing up.
I crossed the room and pulled the curtains wide. The sun’s rays came in. I stood in it and let the light touch me.