Vic is the only person I want to connect with. If he knew the truth…

But he doesn’t.

And I couldn’t tell him.

Instead, I kissed him and told him I needed him. I’m such an idiot.

I’m not going to pretend I’m not crushed that Vic wants to forget the kiss ever happened. The way he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, as if I had infected him with some sort of contagious disease, made we wince.

The truth is, I do need him.

When he turns his back to me and leaves the body shop, I want to yell for him to come back. Instead, I stand frozen in place.

I brush my fingers over my lips, still tingling from our kiss. My body feels more alive than I’ve felt in months, and I have no pain. My adrenaline must be running at an all-time high, because I don’t even notice that consistent dull ache in my back and wrists.

I hear a motorcycle driving away from the shop. Vic’s escaping once again.

“Coward,” I mumble.

While I’m still frozen in place, Isa walks in the door. “Hey,” she says. “Was that Vic I saw drivin’ away?”

I nod. “Yep.”

“Where is he off to?”

I can’t look Isa in the eye now, because then she’ll know something’s up. Especially because I feel like tears are about to spill out of my eyes any moment. “He said something about going to a movie.”

Isa cocks a brow. “Really?”

I shrug. “Or something like that.”

“Uh-huh.” Isa gives me a small smile. “Tell you what. I’ll pretend I believe you. How’s that?”

“That would be great, actually.”

Isa gestures to my coveralls. “It’s been a long day. Why don’t you call it a night and come back tomorrow.”

I look around at all the cars lined up, waiting to be serviced. The community wants to help Isa keep this place running, even though she admits she’s not an expert in cars.

“Why do you continue to keep this place?” I ask her. It’s not exactly the easiest job or the most glamorous.

“Out of respect to the guy who left it to me.” She looks at her grease-stained hands. “He’d want me to be happy. This place keeps me grounded and gives me purpose. I don’t know. If I wasn’t doin’ this, I’d probably still be runnin’ with the Latino Blood.”

“So this place keeps you out of trouble?”

She points to her ripped, grease-stained jeans. “This place keeps me dirty and out of trouble. You’re the kind of girl who doesn’t need to be kept out of trouble, Monika. I have no clue why you’re here except for Vic.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

She doesn’t back down. “I’ll bet. Maybe, just maybe, you’re trying to get yourself into trouble with my cousin.”

Chapter Thirty-nine

VICTOR

I kissed Monika Fox.

Actually that’s not accurate. She kissed me. I kinda stood there at first, stunned and dazed like a damn inexperienced dork. Her hair smelled like flowers, her lips tasted like honey, and her moans drove me nuts.

It was better than my fantasies, by far.

How the hell did I get myself in this situation? Monika should’ve been at home, not at Enrique’s Auto Body. Then I wouldn’t have been alone with her and done stuff with her that I should erase from my memory.

Yeah, right. As if that’ll ever happen.

I feel like a lovesick freshman. My heart is still racing, my adrenaline is pumping hard, and hell, blood is rushing to my groin just from the memory of her fingers reaching up to grab my hair.

Papá was right. I am pathetic.

Despite what I told Monika, deserting my team is suddenly weighing heavily on me. Knowing they’ve lost every game since Trey passed is like a kick in the gut. On top of that, I was not only responsible for my best friend’s death, but I kissed his girlfriend. You can’t get to be more of a pendejo than that.

My life has been one fucking mess after another.

I drive around until it’s dark. The moving shadows coupled with the persistent yelling echoing through the night are reminders that this isn’t the safest town. I don’t think mi papá has ever been on this side of Fairfield. He snubs his nose at anyone poor, as if they’re a disgrace to society.

The ironic part is, he lived in the ghetto when he was a kid.

I walk into a seedy bar on the edge of town. The place isn’t for the weak, especially when gang members are scattered around, itching to start a fight with someone.

“What’ll you have?” the bartender asks me.