We walk back to the truck in silence, hand in hand again, the tension bleeding away with every step.
We told the truth.
Now we need to talk to Noah.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Esteban
The drive back to my place is quiet at first, but not the heavy kind. It’s peaceful, like we’re both finally breathing again.
Eva’s hand rests in mine, her thumb tracing lazy circles against my skin. I glance over at her, soaking in the way the sunlight touches her face, how her eyes drift out the window like she’s watching a movie only she can see.
“We should give Noah until tomorrow,” I say, breaking the silence. “Let him cool off a little before I talk to him again.”
Eva turns to me, one eyebrow raised. “You mean you don’t want to get punched again?”
“Exactly,” I smirk. “I think once is enough for one day.”
She laughs—soft and sweet—and leans back in her seat. “He’ll come around. He’s just… intense.”
“He’s your brother,” I say with a shrug. “I get it. I’d probably react the same way if I were in his shoes. Minus the right hook.”
By the time we pull into my driveway, the sun is low behind the mountains, casting long shadows over the yard. I help Eva out of the truck, then unlock the front door and let her in first.
“Spaghetti and tostones?” I ask as I head to the kitchen, already grabbing ingredients from the fridge and pantry.
“That’s such a weird combo,” she says, following me and hopping onto the counter like she owns the place. “But I love it.”
I pause, hand on a frying pan, and shoot her a mock-offended look. “Are you crazy, woman? Pasta and tostones go hand in hand. This is elite culinary fusion. Wait until you try it, your taste buds are about to write me a thank-you letter.”
She laughs, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And yet, here you are. Eating my ridiculous food in my ridiculous kitchen, falling for my ridiculous face.”
“Ridiculously bruised face,” she corrects with a smirk.
“Still ridiculously handsome,” I shoot back, winking.
I’m halfway through frying the tostones when my phone buzzes. It’s a FaceTime call fromMami.
I sigh dramatically. “Prepare yourself.”
“For what?”
“For full interrogation.”
I swipe to answer, and there is my mom, with her reading glasses perched on her nose and her hair in a messy bun.
“¡Esteban! ¿Qué te pasó en la cara?” she demands instantly, eyes narrowing at my bruised lip. “Who hit you?”
Eva stifles a laugh behind her hand, and I glance at her, shaking my head before answering.
“I’m fine, Mami. Just… a misunderstanding with Noah. We had an argument, that’s all.”
She gasps. “¡Con Noah!? What kind of argument ends with you looking like that?Ay Dios mío.”
“Everything’s okay now,” I reassure her. “We’ll talk again tomorrow. But hey, there’s someone I want you to meet.”
