Page 122 of Crash & Burn

We start walking towards the entrance when we hear a loud bellow behind us, someone calling for their dogs.

“Come back here!”

We turn around just in time to meet the two dogs who, apparently, were on the run. Two huge labs, one black and one brown, covered in mud, are running our way, and we have no time to react. By the time we realize what is about to happen, the two dogs jump on us.

Friendly, excited, but also muddy and wet.

The two dogs don’t stay with us for long, moving on to their next victims as their owner shouts an apology our way.

Mia and I look down at our clothes, now covered in mud, and then down at Daisy who is looking at us like we’re crazy from where she is sitting.

We can’t help but burst out laughing at the complete madness of the situation. Mia has muddy paw prints all over her legs and t-shirt, and she somehow got mud on her face too.

I’m sure I look no better, with matching muddy paw prints all over my T-shirt and jeans.

“See, Daisy,” Mia says. “Thisis why we stay home.”

Chapter 41

Mia

After the dog park fiasco, we make it back to Eddie’s place laughing the whole way there.

“I swear, it was like a movie seeing the two of them charging us,” Eddie laughs as he opens the door to his and Mateo’s apartment. They live about twenty minutes from me, closer to the part of Milwaukee that Drew and Emmett live. Their complex is older, with a rickety elevator that makes you want to take the stairs. The place is relatively big, fitting both of them nicely. Their living room is filled with a record player, various records, Mateo’s bass guitar, and I’m sure I’ve already spotted six drumsticks just laying around.

“Did you want to clean up?”

“Yes, please.” I was supposed to meet Annie and Drew again tonight for dinner at Annie’s place, but I will definitely need to make a pit stop home before heading over there.

We walk into Eddie’s bedroom, and Daisy plops into her bed. Eddie’s room is exactly what I would picture for him. Dark with pockets of light. The walls are dark and covered in posters—Metallica, The Weeknd, Hozier, and Post Malone—just to name a few, showing how he really does listen to everything.

There are personal touches everywhere, and the room feelslivedin. He has a sweatshirt hanging over his desk chair, one I definitely wouldn’t mind adding to my collection ofEddie’s clothes I won’t be giving back, with a picture of him and four other women who slightly resemble him. The same dark hair, striking green eyes, tan skin, and sharp, yet soft, features. The five people in the photo are wearing the same smiles, ones that don’t look like they are just for the camera. One of the women has the same dimples he does.

“Those are my sisters: Isa, Lucia, and Carmen. Isa’s the oldest,” he says, pointing to where she is standing next to Eddie in the photo. “That’s Lucia,” he adds, pointing to the woman with his same dimples, on the other side of him. “And that’s Carmen, the youngest.”

In the photo, Eddie and his three sisters are standing behind a chair where an older woman is sitting with a cake in front of her.

“And that’s your mom?” I ask.

There is a gleam in Eddie’s eyes as he takes the framed photo from the desk, bringing it close. He nods, emotion flooding the space around us. The mud on our skin and clothes and cleaning up long forgotten.

“You look like her,” I say, wrapping an arm around his, leaning my head against his shoulder. “All four of you do.”

Eddie’s mother exudes a timeless grace, her lines of wisdom and hardships etched gently across her face. Her dark hair has lines of gray, her eyes warm, and her smile radiating the love she has surrounded by her children.

“I’m excited for you to meet her,” Eddie says. A blush forms across his cheeks as he puts the photo back on his desk. “I’ve um . . . told her a lot about you.”

“Eddie Ramirez, areyoua mama’s boy?” I tease, knowing the lightness of the conversation has a deeper edge, remembering what Eddie told me about his mom, and how he was the one that got her out of the house with his abusive father.

I know Eddie is a protector. It is laced in his blood. This healing journey of his will be so good for him. I hope it helps him see that he can be protective of the ones he loves, but he can also allow them to protect him too.

Eddie laughs at my remark. “You could say that. I definitely can do no wrong in my mom’s eyes. My sisters and I always joke how that aspect of our mother falls head first into the Mexican mother stereotype.”

This makes me smile, seeing the way Eddie’s features soften as he thinks about his mom.

“Did you like growing up with sisters?” I ask, turning towards him and sitting on the edge of his bed. “I mean I know they made you listen to Britany Spears and take them to midnight premieres ofTwilight, but other than that.”

Eddie laughs at the small details I remember him telling me about having sisters. “I really did,” he says. “Being the oldest, and the only boy, I did my fair share of running to my mom and playing theyour favoritecard, but I think my sisters really helped turn me into the man I am today. They’re excited to meet you too.”

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