Before I can even step fully inside, I’m surrounded.Sofia, his seven-year-old sister, appears with a shy smile and a careful hug, mindful of her ‘grown-up’ status.Miguel emerges from the kitchen, beer in hand and a genuine smile on his face.
“Look who finally decided to grace us with her—” Miguel begins with a smile, but his eyes tighten when he sees my face.He sets his beer aside.“Your face.What happened to it?”
Oh, crap!I forgot they would see the marks.
“Nothing,” I try to gesture, my tone nonchalant.“It’s just?—”
“Marco!”he roars, completely ignoring me.“Marco, come look at this.Some fucker attacked Eve!”
The voices in the kitchen die down almost immediately.
“What the hell happened to your face?”Miguel’s voice cuts through the silence.Before I can answer, Marco appears in the doorway, wiping his hands on a dish towel.His face darkens when he sees me.
“Jesus Christ, Eve.You look like you went through a blender.”
“It’s nothing—” I start, but suddenly I’m surrounded by my brothers, all talking at once.
“Nothing?”Daniel pushes past Miguel, his eyes scanning my injuries with the sharp assessment of someone who’s seen his share of fights.“Those are claw marks.Someone attacked you.”
“Who did this?”Antonio demands, his voice carrying that dangerous edge that means someone’s about to get hurt.“Give me a name, Eve.”
“Guys, please?—”
“Was it a mugging?”Rafael appears from the living room, his college textbooks forgotten.“Did you call the police?”
“Yes, I called the police, but?—”
“Tía Eve, why are you hurt?”Sofia tugs at my coat, her young voice cutting through the masculine outrage with pure concern.
“I’m okay, sweetheart,” I tell her, kneeling down to her level.“Just a little accident.”
“Accident, my ass,” Miguel growls.“Those are deliberate scratches.”
Elena materializes beside me with Mila close behind, both wearing identical expressions of female determination.“Boys, back off,” Elena commands with the authority of a woman who’s been married to a Lopez man for twelve years.“Come on, Eve.Let’s get you cleaned up properly.”
“I’m already cleaned up?—”
“That concealer isn’t fooling anyone,” Mila says gently, already leading me to the couch.“Let’s see what we’re dealing with.”
Elena grabs a makeup wipe from her purse.I try to protest, but these women have been dealing with Lopez stubbornness longer than I’ve been alive.
“Hold still,” Elena murmurs, carefully removing the concealer.“Oh honey, these were deep.”
“Who the hell did this?”Marco’s voice is deadly quiet now, which is somehow worse than shouting.
“I had a fight with someone,” I admit reluctantly as Mila examines the cut near my hairline.“It got out of hand.It’s handled.”
“A fight?”Daniel frowns.“What kind of fight leaves marks like that?”
“The kind that lands people in jail,” I say firmly.“I pressed charges.It’s over.”
“The hell it is,” Miguel snarls.“What’s this person’s name?I want to have a conversation with them.”
“Miguel, no.It’s handled?—”
“Like hell it is!”
“Boys!”A sharp voice cuts through the argument.“What is all this shouting about?”
