I run my hand over his chest, greedy for the contact. “I dove in to cool off after my run. Training turned into teaching again?”
“Yup. And then the kids wanted to watch us spar for real. It’s a good reward for paying attention, especially when they have to put up with our shitty Spanglish.”
Trips joins us, the kids dispersing, one girl hanging back.
“How’s the hand?” I ask, like I do every few days.
He wiggles his fingers, the fading scars less noticeable than they were months ago. “As long as I don’t punch any walls or trees, it’s back to normal.”
It’d taken nearly all the cash we had, pawning everything we found, and a doctor willing to take half up front and half later, to get the surgery Trips needed. And even that was due more to luck and Jansen’s charm than anything else. She was more than a little smitten.
“Good,” I answer.
“Do you want a turn?” RJ asks, nodding at the pile of cardboard coating the alley to make the landing softer. Not gym mat soft, but much better than the cobbles underneath.
“I just ran and took an unplanned swim. I think I’m good for now.”
The girl who stayed hovers, and I turn, realizing I know her. “Guys, why don’t you head back home? I think I’ve got a message.”
The guys see what I do, and after tidying up the alley, they disappear the way I just came.
These sparring matches used to be vicious—a way for them to work out their anger and fear on each other. But somewhere in the last few months, it’s changed, and it’s almost back the way it was before. Almost.
Trips defers to RJ. A change that I’m not even sure they’ve noted, but I for sure have.
Smiling at the girl who stayed, I force my concern over the guys from my mind, instead pushing myself into the headspace to speak Spanish. That was tough when we first arrived, but now feels like a light switch that I flick, the words rolling off my tongue with confidence. “Hey Paula. What’s up? Did you hear anything interesting?”
She smirks up at me, her dark eyes twinkling. “I heard Ricardo drank so much he got lost going home and ended up tangled inTía Maria’s laundry, and pulled it all down, getting it all dirty. She’s making him clean it himself. You should have heard him sputter.”
I chuckle, the two of us trailing the guys out of the back alley. “That’s a good one.”
“Why do you collect the gossip, Marcy?”
Marcy. My name here. It still sounds wrong.
“Because you never know when it will come in useful,” I say, not wanting to tell her we want to make sure no one is asking about us.
“I have another one, if you want it,” she says, spinning a curl around her finger.
“You know I love all the stories you share, Paula.”
“There was a gringo that stopped by last week, but didn’t stay. He was looking for a bunch of people, and it sounded a lot like you and your guys. But when he asked Tía Maria was there, and you know she loves you, so she lied and said that nobody like that was around here. Why would he be looking for you? And why would Tía Maria lie? I asked her, and she just gave me chores to do instead of answering.” Her face twists, remembering her chores.
Meanwhile, my heart gets tight in my throat as I try to think up a good reason for her aunt’s reticence. “Because not every man is a good man, Paula.”
She nods, scuffing her foot against the ground. “Like Guillermo.”
And now my heart is pounding double time. “Who’s Guillermo?”
“He married my sister last year. He’s awful.”
“What kind of awful?”
“The kind of awful that has my sister covered in bruises. She tried to run away last month, but he found her and dragged her back.”
“Paula, why didn’t you tell me about this?”
“Because you want the gossip, and that’s family, not gossip.”
