Page 71 of Fighting

“It’s okay to be scared,” Stef says.

Lily hums. “I’m pretty sure you guys were the ones who told me I could only be brave if I did the scary thing. You can be scaredandbrave, Nessa.”

Heat and pressure build behind my eyes.

Delia squeezes me once more before sliding off the bed.

“I’m going to let him in before he calls the PSPD to do a welfare check,” she teases as she exits my room with her computer in hand.

thirty

Nessa

Despite not wanting to talk,the call did ease some of the tension in my muscles. The knots in my stomach have loosened, even if they are not completely gone.

Scared but brave.

Getting up to meet Mateo in the kitchen, I pause to give myself a quick assessment in the mirror. I’m in my oversized crewneck that saysRead More Smutand is styled like the vintageEveryone Loves an Irish Girlshirts. I’m wearing soft sleep shorts, too, and a pair of fuzzy kitten-covered socks.

I leave my hair in its high pony, then sweep a little bit of ChapStick on.

Good enough.

I tiptoe into the kitchen and see Mateo standing at the sink, dish towel slung over one shoulder, washing the dinner plates we left behind. His deep teal joggers are tight around his strong thighs. The matching zip-up is hung on a kitchen chair, leaving him in a fitted white tank top. With every swipe of the sponge, his corded muscles flex.

“Hi,” I say. My voice comes out quiet, my breaths shallow.

“Hi, gorgeous. Can I make you tea?” He asks sweetly.

That’s all it takes to make me crumble. Acts of service are my move, and being the one who needed the chat, being cared for.Who am I anymore?

He sets down a steaming mug alongside the jar of honey and a teaspoon.

“Hey,” I repeat, out of words. The light tinkling of the spoon on ceramic complements the sound of the trickling water from the slowed faucet.

He turns the water off completely, then turns around to look at me while he dries a plate.

“Hey, yourself,” he echoes.

In this moment, with those dark eyes locked on me, I experience a moment of true calm like I’ve never known.

“Did you bring your own tea?” I inhale the unfamiliar but wonderful scent.

A chuckle rumbles out of him. “Pru…” He shakes his head and brings a small canister to the table. “She stopped me on my way here and said I was supposed to share this with you.” He smiles, drawing me in. It really is a beautiful smile.

I eye the container and erupt in hysterics. “Did she happen to say why?”

Lips pressed together, he hums. “All she did was instruct me to pour the tincture into hot water and mix with honey. It smells amazing, but I haven’t tried it yet. I wanted to wait for you.” He lifts a second mug and holds it out in a little toast-like gesture.

My life has always been noisy, teasing, and chaotic. With a family so large, there’s no way it could be anything else. But this moment reminds me of those quiet interactions between my parents, the looks passed in the thick of it all.

A little voice needles me though. Haven’t you tricked yourself into seeing this when it wasn’t there before?

I shake the thought from my head.

I read the note she taped to the jar to him “Salabat calamansi. Brewed with Hendrix Farms Ginger and a potted calamansi lovingly tended to by Eddie Santos-Manolo.”

He lowers his face, inhaling the citrus and ginger vapors, the move causing his soft black strands to fall over his forehead. “I want to say you learned this all from Stef and are messing with me.”

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