“Okay,” Dad huffs. “I don’t like it. I wanted more for you than this life, Frankie. I wanted you to find some boring accountant, live a boring white-picket fence existence and grow old.”
I laugh. “That sounds…boring.”
“It sounds safe.”
“Emilio will always protect me. He always has,” I say.
“What do you mean?”
“Remember when we were sixteen and he got arrested? You had to pick us up on Christmas Eve from the police station?”
“Yes.”
“It’s because we were arguing. I was mad at him and at myself. I met someone else that night, and the boy I met… he got handsy and trapped me against a wall. I couldn’t get him off me, but Emilio turned up. He stabbed the guy a few times and then dragged me out of the alley. I was angry that he was insisting that I had to go home.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Dad asks. “Who was he?”
“It doesn’t matter. Emilio killed him. But the thing is, he’s always been there bailing me out of trouble. He loves me, Daddy.”
“It’s not like you’re hard to love, princess. He’s fucking lucky to have you.”
“We’re lucky to have each other.”
“As long as he continues to treat you right, I will try to back off.”
“Thank you. And he will, because I won’t let him not. I know what love looks like because you showed me my whole life.” I smile up at my dad.
“Good. Don’t ever forget it.” He kisses my forehead. “You going to be okay?”
“Yeah, I just didn’t want you going out without knowing I was sorry.”
“I already knew,” he tells me.
“Daddy?”
“Yeah?”
“Make sure nothing happens to him. Whatever you guys are planning on doing, make sure he comes back.”
“I’ll do my best,” Dad says. “But those Lopez boys are like cockroaches, fucking hard to kill.” He laughs.
As we walk out of the office, everyone else is making their way down the hall. My eyes connect with Emilio, and his face instantly softens before it shifts to worry.
“Why are you crying? What happened?” He stops in front of us and cups my jaw, not caring that my dad is right next to me.
“Nothing. I’m fine. Promise,” I insist.
Emilio looks from me to my dad and then back to me. “You sure?”
“Mhmm, wanna tell me about these war plans you guys are all up to?” I ask.
“You really want to know?” Emilio counters.
“No, she fucking doesn’t,” Dad grunts. “Don’t tell her shit she doesn’t need to know, Emilio.”
“I’m not lying to her. If she asks me something, I’m going to tell her,” Emilio grunts back.
“Omitting the facts is not lying.” Dad storms off down the hall, muttering something about fucking truth tellers.