Grabbing the carton of eggs, I hand them over to Ant before rooting through the various drawers.
“He’s got loads of veggies, so I’m going to make huevos rancheros,” I say, inhaling the cool air, letting it settle the disturbed parts of me.
If I think too much about what Ant went through, I’ll…fuck, I’ll never stop crying. That’s not what he needs right now. Hell, it’s not what I need right now either.
Grabbing the corn tortillas, I stack the onion, tomato, cilantro, garlic, and jalapeño on the counter. Ant points out the cutting board, grabs a chef’s knife from a block, and hands it to me.
Just as I’m washing the vegetables, the front door opens and Ant’s friend, Nacho, walks in.
“Hey, Nacho—why aren’t you at work?” Ant asks, going over to him for a hug.
“Justin said I should hang out with you. Make sure you’re okay today.” He darts a quick look between Ant and me. “Heard you got on a call earlier.”
Ant nods. “I got to talk with mis abuelos, mi tía y mi tío, and mi primo. It was…God, I felt every emotion in the world.”
“But you’re okay?” he asks, worry creasing his brow.
“Yeah.”
“Awesome,” he says, hanging out the door and waving at someone.
Moments later, Nacho’s guy—Bram, I think—Charlie, and the tall, gangly man who appears to be Charlie’s guy file in, each of them pulling Antonio into a big hug. I wonder if everyone here is some flavor of queer.
Huh. A queer ranch. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of such a thing.
Everyone exchanges pleasantries with me. Bram and Justin make sure I know their names, telling me how excited they are that we’ve begun the reunification process.
“Can I guess that my history has been shared with everyone?” I ask the group.
They all nod.
“You’re one of us,” Charlie says, smacking my shoulder.
Guilt settles in my belly. I’ll never be as genuinely heroic as he’s been.
“I try.”
He snorts. “You set fire to a huge trafficker compound in Columbia, but not before saving every single person in there first.”
I hold up my hands. “I did not save the traffickers. In fact, I may have tied down a few of them.”
Ant stares them down as he points at me. “See! It runs in the family.”
I lift my chin at Charlie, questioning.
He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “We’ve had to establish some boundaries and guidelines with young Ant here about what he is and is not allowed to do. For instance, he has never officially been allowed on an operation.”
“Officially?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at my nephew.
“I saved the day,” he says, setting a large skillet on the stove. “And I was promised breakfast.”
Yeah, we’ll be getting into that later.
“Breakfast?” the tall, gangly man next to Charlie asks. “You’re making breakfast?”
Justin, that’s right.
“I’ve got enough for the salsa, but I’m going to need a few more eggs.”
