Erik shakes his head. “No. It’s not. I’ll do anything for Ant, and that extends to his family.”
“He’s special, our Ant,” Gael says, moving the hair off my forehead.
Erik sucks in his lips, then looks upward, trying to not cry. “I know this sounds weird, but for the past few days—seeing the people and places who hurt him—I keep thinking about the work Ant’s doing with the horses.” Erik wraps his arm around my shoulders and his voice gets raspy. “He’s so gentle. How can somebody who’s been through what he’s been through be so gentle?”
Gael sets his head on Erik’s shoulder. “He was always gentle. You just helped him find himself again.”
“It’s a privilege, really,” Erik whispers.
I lightly punch his arm. “I get it. I’m special. I’m brave. I’m smart. Can we stop talking about how great I am?”
Erik and Gael sniffle, then crack up, and the heaviness of the moment dissipates. The room has gone quiet and everyone is looking at us.
Abuela gets up and kisses the top of Erik’s head. “You’re a little pale, but that’s okay. You’re still one of us.”
As laughter breaks out, I realize maybe it’s okay for things to get heavy every now and again, especially because my reality now is so much lighter.
Finally, the evening winds down, and Gael, Yaya, and Emil return to their house. Javier leads us to the guestroom on the newer side of the house. While the space is unfamiliar, I recognize the thin hand-crocheted blanket on the bed.
“Do you think Ant’s grandparents would prefer me to sleep somewhere else? I don’t mind the couch,” Erik whispers to Javier.
Javier shakes his head. “They were never that strict to begin with, but losing Ant the way we did put what’s important in sharp contrast with the noise. Besides, we know he feels safest with his giant, and we would never ask him to give that up.”
Erik pulls me closer and kisses the top of my head. “Thank you, but know it goes both ways. I feel safer with him too.”
I know he isn’t referring to his physical safety, but his heart, and on a night filled with so much love and warmth, that sentiment causes an overflow. Despite all the terrible things that are true about my life, there is another far more positive set of truths: I am lucky. I am safe. I am loved.
22
ERIK
Iwake with a start in an unfamiliar room on an overly firm mattress with voices filtering up from the floor below. It takes me a minute, but the fantastic smells coming from the kitchen remind me I’m in Mexico with Ant and his family.
Ant shifts next to me, humming, comfortable, sweet. “God, that smells so fucking good,” he says while yawning. His hair is sticking out in all directions again, and I fucking love that about him.
Of course, I love more than just his hair. It’s the man himself. The more I admit it to myself, the less it scares me because I know how to love him and keep him safe. Even with my parents’ shitty example, I have so many other examples ofrealtrue love, and I trust myself.
I snuggle in close to him, loving our shared warmth. “What sexual favors would I have to promise to get you to cook breakfast like that for me?”
He starts laughing, then pushes me to my back so he can straddle me. He places a soft kiss on my lips and starts rolling his hips when Javier’s voice booms from the first floor.
“Get up, you lazy boys! Breakfast is getting cold!”
Ant touches his forehead to mine, his body shaking with laughter. Rolling off me, he yells back, “Okay, old man! We’re coming!”
We quickly change into street clothes and step across the hallway to brush our teeth so we can kiss properly. We get a little lost in the process until Javier yells up at us again, and we part and put ourselves together before making it down the stairs.
I’m a little embarrassed when I see the entire family waiting for us, seated around the table with the most amazing-smelling dishes ever.
Ant’s eyes widen, and he grins up at me. “Oh my God. If you thought her posole was good, that has nothing on my abuela’s chilaquiles.”
Abuela smiles proudly. “Suizas, just like you like them.”
Gael scoffs. “Oh sure. Roll out the fancy breakfast for Ant. Meanwhile, all I get around here is oatmeal.”
Snorting, Yaya throws a tortilla at him. “You’re a grown man, Gael. Your inability to cook for yourself is no one’s fault but your own.”
“And,” Ant says, accepting a cup of coffee from his abuelo, “you act as though this isn’tyourfavorite breakfast too.”
