“If he is, that’s his problem, Tati. I never liked that cabrón, he’s always assumed that he’s better than everyone else because he works for Señor Vargas. I doubt he’s even broken a fucking nail doing any dirty work, though,” she finishes with an eye roll.
I put a hand over my mouth to stifle a giggle.
She’s never liked anyone that just “sits behind a desk” as she puts it. I have to agree with her though. Not all Sicarios are killers, and sometimes, that’s good enough. But we’re still required to go into thefieldwhen we’re told to, and to get shit done.
“He probably sucked some major dick to get where he is,” she muses with a grin. I toss a pillow at her and she swats it away before it can hit her.
“We’re not all as brave as you are, little sister,” I remind her as I push myself up to my elbows and turn my eyes toward the ceiling.
“Bravery has nothing to do with it,” she replies curtly. I don’t look at her; I know why Ana Sofia chose this life and it was to repay the man who saved hers so many years ago.
“You know what I was dreaming about in the park today?” I ask softly as I lay on my back again.
“Digame.”
“When Papa first brought you home.”
She lets out a short laugh.
Not in a condescending way, but I think she knows why it’s been on my mind so much lately. I don’t know where our disconnect came from but no matter how much she’s attempted to fix it, I just haven’t been able to give her the time of day.
Until now.
“I remember that,” she says, casting a grin at me. “You cleaned my bullet hole and put a Band-Aid on it. You should’ve become a nurse, Tati, not a soldier.”
“I did my best,” I shoot back defensively, turning my back on her. My sister sighs as she brings her leg inside, then lies down on the bed with me. She hugs me from behind and rests her chin on the top of my head.
“I wasn’t trying to be mean.”
I shift slightly, reach up and wrap my hands around her wrists. Ana Sofia tenses instantly, ready to fight me if I try to rebuff her affection again, but that’s not my intention this time.
I want us to be best friends like we were so many goddamn years ago. I have to find a way to put my pride aside for that to happen.
“Let’s take a nap, okay?” I suggest. She nods, and as her body relaxes I close my eyes.
Nothing in this world could ever cause me harm with a sister like her and a father like the one we share.
I’ll prove to them both that I’m worth more than conversations with dangerous men while they do the heavy lifting.
Somehow.
* * *
“I hope she’s hungry,”I tell Papa the next morning as I reach for the toast that’s just popped up.
He smiles at me from where he’s leaning against the counter. I push my hair out of my face and grab one of the dull knives, cut a slab of butter off the brick and concentrate as hard as I can to make sure that I spread it evenly for her breakfast.
Once I’m sure I’ve covered every inch of this piece, I grab the other one and cutting another slice off the block, I do my best to make sure that they’re even.
I pick up the plate and step down from the stool carefully. I don’t want to drop her breakfast because she didn’t eat dinner. She tried but she got sick and Papa told her that it was okay—and so did I.
I let her sleep in my bed and we both hugged Foxy until she was asleep, then I let him go so she could have him for the rest of the night.
“Buenos dias,” Papa suddenly says after I’ve placed the plate on the counter and pulled a stool over for her to sit in.
I turn around and see Ana Sofia—still holding Foxy—rubbing her eyes and walking a little funny as she enters the kitchen.
I hold a hand out toward her when she gets close enough to take it. She gives Foxy a kiss on the top of his head before she tries to hand him to me, but I shake my head.