Page 70 of Hate That Blooms

My thoughts keep returning to Joaquín. I haven’t said anything to him yet, but it’s been on my mind for days. I think it’s time. I think we’re ready for this.I’mready for this.

I just hope he feels the same way.

* * *

Later that evening, after Mireya has settled into bed and the house is quieter than usual, I find myself pacing. I can’t help it. I’m nervous. More nervous than I’ve felt in a long time. Joaquín got called out to a downed line and didn’t come home when he projected he would. Mireya was distraught for hours, and I was finally able to get her to fall asleep.

I hear the door opening while I pace in the kitchen, and I rush to the door, looking up to see Joaquín stepping into the house. He’s carrying his backpack, the one he always brings back when he stays over. He looks tired, but there’s a softness in his expression when he sees me standing there, waiting for him.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low. He sets his bag down by the door, and for a moment, we just stand there. He’s sweaty and has dirt on him, but I couldn't care less. The feeling that spreads throughout my chest now that he is here tells me it’s the right time.

“Hey,” I reply, taking a deep breath. I move toward him, but I’m not sure what to say. The moment feels big, heavier than I expected.

I finally force myself to speak.

“Joaquín, can we talk?” My voice comes out steadier than I thought it would.

He looks at me, his brow furrowing just slightly. “Sure. What’s up?”

I take a step back, trying to figure out how to phrase it. How to make this sound like the thing I’ve been thinking about for weeks. How to make it sound like somethingrightinstead of just something that feels right in my heart.

“Mireya…” I begin, glancing toward the hallway, where she’s already fallen asleep. “She misses you when you’re not here. I mean,reallymisses you.” I pause, trying to find the right words. “I miss you too. But it’s more than that, Joaquín. It feels like... empty. This house is where you belong. With us.”

He stares at me for a long moment, his gaze soft, almost unreadable. His jaw tightens a little, like he’s thinking it over.

“I just don’t want to betoomuch, you know?” He says finally, his voice quiet. “I don’t want to push my way in, or... I don’t want to mess things up. I know you’ve got your life with Mireya, and?—”

“Joaquín,” I interrupt, stepping closer. “You’re nottoo much. You’ve already fit into our lives more than you realize. And I want you here. Mireya wants you here. I…” I hesitate, then take a breath. “Would you consider... moving in? Completely. For real.”

There’s a long pause, and for a second, I think I’ve said too much. I wait, my heart pounding in my chest, the space between us feeling like it’s stretching on forever. But then he steps forward, takes my hands in his, pulling me into his chest and draping them over his shoulders, and looks into my eyes, his own expression soft and warm.

“Yes,” he says, his voice low and steady. “Yes. I want that. I want to be here. With you. With Mireya.My girls.”

His girls. We’re his girls.

I feel something in my chest ease, like a weight I didn’t even realize I was carrying has been lifted. His words settle into me like the first rain after a long drought. This is real. This is happening.

I lean in, pressing my forehead against his. “You’re sure?”

“More sure than I’ve ever been,” he says, his voice a whisper. “Now I need a shower and dinner.”

“I’ll heat you something up real quick.” I start to pull away toward the kitchen, but he grips my hips, keeping me anchored in my spot.

“The only thing I want to eat is you,Hermosa.So let’s go get clean so I can drown in you.”

Chapter44

Joaquín

The thing about change is that it’s never as sudden as you think it’s going to be. When you decide to move in with someone, it feels like it happens overnight, but it doesn’t. It’s a slow burn, little pieces shifting into place without you even realizing it.

Today, I pack up the rest of my things from the apartment. It feels strange, but in a good way. Like I’m shedding skin I didn’t know I was ready to shed. I’ve been living at Gabriela’s most of the time already—more nights than I’ve spent alone in my own place—but today, it’s real. Today, I make it official.

I load the truck with boxes—clothes, books, and a few random items I’d forgotten about. I smile a little to myself as I pick up the little things that Mireya has left over here from when they would come over. They’re just some pictures that she’s drawn for me in school and random toys, but something about seeing them in this apartment makes me feel out of place. Inourhome, it feels different.

The truck feels heavier than it did a few hours ago when I left their house this morning for work, knowing I’m bringing the rest of my life there. Not all of it, but enough that I can’t imagine leaving again.

I make a quick call to my landlord, letting him know I won’t be renewing my lease. It’s a relief to let go of that last connection to the past, that last sliver of independence I thought I couldn’t live without. The weight lifts off my chest in a way I didn’t expect. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m genuinely happy to be here or because the unknowns ahead don’t seem as terrifying as they used to. Either way, this is what it is.

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