Ángel planted his legs wide and folded his arms. “You’re not my brother. You don’t even qualify as a friend.”
“What the fuck? Man, where’s Ximena?”
“You’re not welcome here anymore.”
“Since when?” I tried to push past him.
He pushed back.
On any given day, I could clean the floor with the man. He was no match for me. We used to spar together. The last time we did, I knocked Ángel out. A few minutes later he woke up and never wanted to mess with me again.
“Ximena wants nothing more to do with you.” He reached inside the door and held up two more of my duffels. Ángel shoved them at me. “Take your shit and get out. Come here again, and I’ll stick one of Pop’s rifles so far up your ass you’ll taste the bullets!”
I heeded the warning, tossed my shit in the vehicle, and sped out of town.
In hindsight, I was wrong. I should have stuck around and spoken to Ximena herself. Months later, I’d learned about the car wreck, but not all the details. Instead of tracking her down, I heeded Ángel’s warning and tried to forget the love of my life.
But I couldn’t…
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