“Yeah, I see that bit of coincidence differently now too. She just showed up one day. I didn’t go looking for her. Trojan was starting to create some buzz and we had a manager at the time. He was a bit of a dick, but we didn’t know any better.”
He pulls out the guitar pick and starts rubbing his thumb over it, seemingly not even conscious he’s doing it. I’m comforted by the act.
“She’d just managed a group of artists for an international cause. Some big names and lots of publicity. Silas and I had also stayed with Lucia Bernal for a while. Do you remember her?”
“My mother’s friend? Our neighbor?” I’m immediately brought back to the night of my mother’s death and how she sat with me through the grief-stricken silence.
“Yeah. Bianca got in contact with us through her. And then she showed up while we were touring the US.”
“She did?”
“Yeah, and stupid me, I thought it was her guilt for how shitty she’d been as to why she wanted to manage our band. We’d heard good things about her, and the label thought it was a good idea, so we agreed to it.”
“I knew she was a band manager, but she never told me anything specific, even when I pushed.” Anger surges up my spine at how vague my sister had been. “And once, I asked to go with her on a tour. Somehow she twisted my request and we got into this huge fight.”
We hadn’t spoken for nearly a year after that, and I had no idea what I’d done or how we’d ended up that way. When she eventually came to visit, she acted like everything was fine.
There was a distance to her that hadn’t been there before, and I never understood it until now. I’d gotten too close. She needed to keep me away—a barrier between us.
“I must admit, when she came back into my life, all apologetic and sweet, I clung to her.” Bitterness smothers his words and I stiffen, stomach queasy at his admission.
There’s something else in his tone and countenance, something he isn’t saying and I can’t quite put my finger on.
“Eva, I don’t want secrets either. There’s more I have to say on this but not now. We’ve got so much to talk about, so many questions I have for you. But soon.”
I nod, not really sure what I’m agreeing to, and swallow down the dread now winding around my heart.
“I’m so happy for you.” My smile is weak even if I truly mean it, and he frowns.
“Happy? I wasn’t happy. Happiness was a hard thing to find without you and truthfully, I didn’t even try.”
I rest a hand on his forearm. Squeezing. “What I mean is your dream came true. You turned your love of music into something that you made a life out of. Did you ever get your high school diploma?”
He barks out a laugh, and I blush at not being able to hold back my ever-present belief in the importance of education.
“I did, Mom. I did.”
“Good, and I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”
“You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t ask.” He smirks, tugging my arm to bring me into his side.
His arm slides around me, and I rest my head on his shoulder, stirring something deep and warm inside me.
“Can I ask you a question?” I nod against him.
“You’d really never heard of Trojan until seeing the magazine cover?”
I push away, eyes wide, to study him. He’s studying my features with a soft smile on his lips.
“Yes. Why would you ask?”
“Not to be full of myself but Trojan is fucking huge, even now after the end. People know who we are. We were everywhere for the past decade. Even if you’re not into rock music, you’d have to live in a cave to not know about Trojan.”
“After losing you, I shunned music, completely turned away from it. It was too hard, too painful. Everything reminded me of you. And I didn’t enjoy it anymore. Eventually, I turned to classical music. It calms me.” I nibble on my bottom lip, giving my next words some thought.
“My father, Miguel, and Bianca also had a hand in keeping anything to do with you away from me.”
His expression turns grim and he nods. “Fuck, all of them piss me off.”
“I know the feeling.”
He cups my face, his thumb gently stroking my cheekbone and his fingers on my neck. The adoration and desire in his eyes need no words and I quiver in anticipation. I want him to kiss me.
The door opens, and we both turn in that direction. Miguel walks into the room as if he owns the place. Jared doesn’t let go of me.
“What are you doing here?” I don’t hide the irritation in my tone. I have a sneaking suspicion as to how he got a copy of my room key, and I want to scream.
“Why’s it so dark in here?”
Until then, I hadn’t realized we were in near darkness. The dimming sunlight from outside spills in through the window. Miguel marches toward the lamp and flicks it on. He stiffens, regarding Jared. I’m practically in his lap and his hands are all over me.
“We need to talk,” Miguel growls. “You should leave.” He points to Jared, but neither of us move.
“No. You need to leave.” I untangle myself, now standing. “I told you—”
“Eva, it’s late and we can’t leave things the way we did.” Miguel slides one hand into a pocket as if this is just a casual conversation.
“I’m only leaving if Eva wants me to.”
My stomach tangles into a million knots at the sound of Jared’s voice. I don’t want him to go anywhere, but things could get ugly. Without my having to say a word, he must sense my hesitation and gets to his feet.
He takes both of my hands in his, calloused and so much larger than mine, and bends to meet my gaze. “I’m going to Silas and Pansy’s tomorrow, come with me. We’ll have lunch.”
It isn’t an invitation, more a declaration, but there’s no hint that he’s trying to control me. It’s more a plea to spend time with me and there’s only one response.
“Eva—” Miguel starts and I talk right over him. “Yes, text me the details. I’d love to come.”
Beaming, his lips press a light kiss to the tip of my nose, and he lets me go. I want to run after him, tell him to stay or that I’m coming with him. But I don’t.
Jared leaves and I glare at Miguel, fire now coursing through my veins.
“I don’t even want to know how you got my room key.” I have a pretty good idea and I’m infuriated. I make a mental note to ream out the front desk. “Nothing has changed from earlier. I still need space. Give me the key.”
“Eva, listen to me.”
“No. You listen to me for once.” I hold out my hand, palm up. “Give me the key and leave.”
Grudgingly, he deposits the keycard in my hand, shoulders deflating. “My room is on the tenth floor.”
Folding my arms, I tap my foot and stay mute. He finally trudges to the door and leaves.
It isn’t even nine o’clock, and I switch off the lights on the way to bed. I make the mistake of checking my phone before sliding under the covers.
Bianca has texted several times, and Miguel has also sent an apology with his room number like I’m going to visit him tonight. Oddly, Papi has been silent. Maybe his guilt is finally catching up to him?