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She sits up straighter. “I can’t take that risk.”

Yet, I almost say, but I take a piping hot sip of coffee instead.

“Fair enough,” I say, laying my mug down. “But as long as you’re warned… I’m not letting anything happen to you. I can’t control you. But I can protect you.”

“If I said, hell no, I’m not putting up with that… if I said, you lured me here and set some douche-level trap, so I’m telling you no, do you think anybody would blame me? Or do you think every single person would understand why I had to take that stand?”

I turn my gaze away. I appreciate how fierce and independent she is. But she’s not going to get me to budge on this.

Soon, the coffee’s done. I’m relieved when she smiles in an ironic way. She strokes her hand along mine. “You’re too confusing,” she says when I climb into the driver’s seat. “Has anybody ever told you that before?”

“My brother,” I say. “Just before I came here.” Just before he sent me here as exile, punishment, and test rolled into one. “He said I’d messed with his head more than anyone ever had before. He said he couldn’t understand how I could be so many different things.”

I realize how much I’ve shared, then quickly start the engine.

“You’re too easy to talk to. Has anybody ever told you that?”

“You don’t have to tell me every little thing. I remember you said that. To Iris – to me. This is weird.”

“No argument there,” I say gruffly. “But you said that as Serena.”

She pauses. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“I remember,” I tell her. “Who is who, and how goddamn happy I am that you’re the same girl.”

She ignores the compliment. “But you can talk to me, if you want.”

“I don’t. Not about that.”

“What’s your brother’s name?” she asks.

I sigh. “Maksim. He’s grumpy and serious and righteous and probably double the man I am.”

“I don’t believe that,” she says softly.

I look at her in shock. She’s got no idea how much that means to me. She stares back with confusion in her eyes. She’s mad, and she wants this. And I think a part of her is relieved too that she doesn’t have to keep up the double act.

“What about you?” I ask. “Any family other than Zoe and your mom?”

“Rosa’s not my mother,” she says. “Well, she kind of is. She’s my ex’s mother. But after Mateo showed who he really was, she chose me. My parents aren’t in the picture.”

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“Don’t be.” She flashes a dark look at me. “I’m happier with Rosa than I ever was with them.”

“You don’t have to tell me every little thing, but you can talk to me if you want.”

She smiles tightly. “I think they tried their best. But they had their own demons. My dad had the bottle, and mom had her own problems. And there wasn’t much time for me. We still send each other Christmas cards, and they’ve met Zoe. But they’re not… interested?” She withdraws, wrapping her arms around herself.

“That’s not right,” I tell her. “But you don’t need them. You’re raising a bright, beautiful girl without them.”

I pull up outside her house.

“Here’s the welcoming party,” she says sarcastically.

I look out the window as Pico runs down the lawn. Rosa – a tall woman with a bronze complexion and a heavy braid draped over one shoulder – stands at the door, wearing an apron and laughing. I quickly climb from the car, kneeling to scoop up Pico.

He pants and laps at my face. “You’re going to get yourself hurt, you little gremlin.”