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My chest hurts and my stomach rolls with anger, but… isn’t she right?

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” I say stubbornly, but it comes out weak, my voice cracking.

“You’re certainly not doing it right. You’re messing up, mija, and it’s my job to tell you when you are.”

“I didn’t… I don’t mean to,” I say quietly, tears burning at the backs of my eyes.

“It’s alright,” Mama says, getting closer, reaching out to take my shoulders in her hands. “You’ll just… stop. You’ll pull out of the festival.”

I frown. “But⁠—”

“But nothing, mija. You’re not mature enough to make these kinds of decisions.”

I am. Aren’t I?

Don’t I know my own mind?

My head is spinning. I don’t even know anymore.

“I’m sorry, Mama,” I whisper, and she puts her arms around me.

It’s cold comfort.

Mama stays for another half hour before she decides I’m okay. She kisses my temple before walking out the door.

I walk into my kitchen. On the counter, as if taunting me, a black-rose piping bag catches my eye. I’d been practicing before the festival.

I think of Cole, that silly little bow he did. How it made me laugh.

Of Marcus, how steady his blue eyes are, how calm he was in the pantry, worshipping me.

I think of Gabe’s deep, soulful brown eyes, staring into mine after he kissed me the first time.

Unbidden, I think of my father. His big smiles, how he called me tesoro, bought me balloons and toys. And then I never saw him again.

Am I turning into my father? Am I running from the good things in my life?

I draw in a deep breath, picking up the piping bag and putting it away.

I’m not going to be the one that disappears. I can’t be.

I know how much it hurts.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

MARCUS

Gabe, Cole and I don’t discuss when we’ll meet up on the morning of the Halloween festival, but we arrive around the same time, just before dawn.

Margo’s beat-up sedan is in the parking lot.

I hop out of the truck like it’s on fire and Gabe’s already standing outside the greenhouse, looking inside.

It’s glass on the top to let the sunlight in, but not the sides, so we can’t see inside.

“She’s in there,” he says when I walk up next to him.

Cole’s sports car sits next to my truck.