Page 46 of Only Fate

“What?”

“You burn it down.”

She bolts across the bed, her back smacking into the wall, as if my words were a physical blow.

I expected my response to appear more philosophical.

Not terrifying.

She inhales raspy breaths.

“What I mean is …” I stand, scrambling for better words, and lower myself onto River’s bed while keeping a decent distance between us. My voice is low and even. “If you don’t let go of your past and the pain it brings, it will ruin the rest of your life. The only way to break free from the past is by releasing yourself from it first.”

My abuela once told my mother that.

I was only four or five years old when I woke up to my mother crying. I got out of bed and peeked around the corner into the kitchen to find her curled up on the floor. My abuela sat beside her, stroking her cheek, and spoke those words to her.

The thing is, I’ve had a good life.

One free from heartache, loss, and struggle.

But my mother hasn’t.

“No one said you can’t put yourself back together, child,” my abuela told her. “But you’re the only one who can fix you. If you don’t find happiness, if you don’t find a way to release your pain, you’ll rebuild yourself just as broken as you are now.”

Her words have stayed with me for some reason.

“You can crash here, in River’s bed, if you want?” I suggest without fully considering my words.

She goes still, mid-hugging her knees, my offer surprising her as much as it does me. “Are you sure?” Her gaze shifts to the papers and laptop scattered on my bed and the two empty coffee cups on my nightstand. “I don’t want to interrupt you.”

I smile warmly. “No, not at all.”

“What are you studying for?”

I shrug. “Just an exam on Monday.”

“For what class?”

“Political science.”

“Course?”

“Latin American Politics.”

“Do you need help?”

“I’m not sure if this is one you can help with.”

She lifts forward and rams her palm into my shoulder, and I grunt.

“Excuse me? Is that because I’m a girl?”

“No, it’s law school shit. So, unless you plan on going into law?—”

She cuts me off, “Which I am.”

My body stiffens at the realization of how stupid mycomment was. I deserve another jab to my shoulder. It’s not that I doubted her ability to help, but very few freshmen take the course.

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