Page 8

CHAPTER 8

MIRIAM

“He’ll survive. Someone just fucking pay her, please. I need to pack and head out.”

I blink, stopping my body from entering the kitchen when I hear Richard. Pay me? What the hell are they paying me for?

It doesn’t take much longer to hear Kevin’s annoyed sigh and his response. “I’ve got the $25,000 we were giving to Victoria. I’ll take Miriam to her dad’s and give it to her in the car. That work?”

My head jerks back in surprise, and an ache curls deep within my stomach, followed quickly by shame. Normally, I’m one to confront an asshole head on, but right now, I’m feeling vulnerable as hell and I just want to run. Taking a step back from the entrance to the kitchen, I turn and run upstairs as quietly as possible.

Gathering the few items I have, I take a quick look around the room, then slip downstairs once more. I can still hear the guys’ rumbling voices in the kitchen, so I tiptoe to the front door, wincing when the soft squeak of the door sounds as I open it. I listen for a moment, but no one seems to have heard it, so I slide through the small opening, then pull it shut with a soft snick.

As I stare out at the long driveway, I blow out a breath, noticing the cloud of steam created in the frigid air. Rolling my shoulders back, I force myself to not care about everyone I’ve left behind and start my trek down the long driveway toward the highway.

The moment I lose sight of the house, I pull up my phone and request an Uber to pick me up. Blessedly, there’s one only fifteen minutes away, so I don’t have long to wait before I’m crawling into the backseat.

“Thanks for getting here so quickly,” I tell the driver who only nods once. Giving her my address, I sit back and watch the scenery fly by as we speed further and further away from the cabin that literally changed my life.

The longer I sit in the back of this car, the more pissed I get over what I heard before I left. How dare they treat me like a whore? At no time did anyone mention that I’d be paid for spreading my legs for these men. If I had been asked, I’d have given them the middle finger and walked away. It was just supposed to be a way to take control of my life for a bit of time.

Furious, I pull my phone out and send them all a text as a group.

Me: I’m not a whore. Fuck you all for thinking I was here just to suck your dicks for money. Thank you SO much for turning this experience for me into something disgusting and for making me feel worthless. Oh wait, but I guess I’m not worthless. $25,000 right?

Me: Váyanse a la mierda! Bola de viejos con pitos peque?os!

Smirking at what I’ve written, I work my way through my contacts, blocking every single one of them. They can all go fuck themselves because I’ll be damned if I ever spread my legs for any of them going forward. Not one of those assholes said anything kind about me. Apparently, I was just a hole to them.

Ignoring the way that makes me feel, I shove my phone into my bag and zone out as trees and buildings fly by. The longer we travel, the more I dread showing up at my family’s home.

Before I’m ready, the Uber slows to a stop in front of the home I grew up in, peeling paint and all. With a sigh, I thank my driver, who stayed quiet during the drive, and tug my bag higher up my shoulder as I stand outside.

“Well, here we go…” I trail off the moment my youngest brother comes flying out the front door.

Damián is barreling down the front walkway and slams into my stomach, hugging them tightly. “Miri! I’m so glad you’re here! I haven’t eaten in weeks! ”

Rolling my eyes, I pick him up and settle him on my hip. “I’m sure that’s not the case, Dam. What’d you have for breakfast?”

My brother wrinkles his nose. “Fuckin’ cereal!”

“ Hey! Are you kidding me? Watch your mouth!” Scowling at him, I wait until he looks apologetic before continuing into the house. “Cereal is perfectly fine for a meal.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, he juts out his lower lip and slumps his shoulders. “It fu-freakin’ sucks.” Then, as if he didn’t just act as though his world was ending, he leans toward me and cups my cheeks, squishing them together. “I’ve missed you, hermanita .”

My stomach lurches, reminding myself that no matter how frustrated I become with my family, my brothers are precious to me. Rubbing my nose against his until he starts giggling, I press a sloppy and loud kiss to his cheek. “I’ve missed you too, hermano .”

I carry him inside, blowing wet kisses all over his cheeks as he fights me off, enjoying the way he squeals. We both know he loves it, no matter how much he pretends to fight me. The moment I step into the kitchen, I freeze with the exception of my eyes bulging.

Dishes. There are fucking dishes piled everywhere .

“What in the hell…” I mutter, trailing off as my eyes roam over the counters stretching from one wall to the next. Damián doesn’t fight me as my arms go lax and he slips from my hold to make a quick retreat toward the living room. I have no idea what he calls out to everyone, but I don’t give a shit.

I’m furious .

“What in the actual fuck is happening in here?” I cry out to no one and everyone. César stumbles into the war zone that used to be our kitchen, scowling at whomever just shoved him toward me. “César!” I snap, whipping my head toward him and jabbing a finger toward the sink. “That is fucking disgusting! It smells like ass in here! Why hasn’t anyone taken care of this?”

I feel no pity toward him when he hunches his shoulders and glares at me.

“It’s not my fault. Dishes aren’t on my chore list. What am I s’posed to do about it?”

Holding my arms out wide, I indicate the entire room and let my voice carry enough so everyone can hear. “ YOU DO THE GODDAMN DISHES! THAT’S WHAT YOU FUCKING DO! ”

He straightens his shoulders until he’s hovering over me at his full height. Through clenched teeth, he grits out, “Why? It’s not . My. Job. Take it up with Ale and Loren. They’re the ones that are supposed to unload and load the dishwasher. I do the kitty litter and Cristián does the trash!”

“Why are you yelling?”

Both César and I jerk our heads toward our papá’s voice. César holds his hands up in defense as I whip my arm out to point toward where the sink used to be, buried underneath what looks like every single dish from the cabinets piled inside and filled with moldy, stinking food.

“That! How the hell is anyone supposed to make anything in here when every damn dish is filled with rotting food?”

My dad simply puts his hands on his hips and shrugs at me. “We’ve been busy, Miri. Sometimes it gets out of control. Wasn’t this bad a few days ago when you were supposed to be here.”

Narrowing my eyes at him, I open my mouth to argue, but immediately can tell that he’s not in a mood to be tested right now.

“Why don’t you send a couple of the boys out to pick up pizza for everyone?” I ask, pressing my fingertips to my temples and massaging them gently to ease away the ache already pounding through my head. Then, I drop my arms to push up my sleeves. “I’ll get this mess cleaned up, but papá, you can’t let it get this bad. There’s no reason they can’t load and unload the dishes every day.”

Glancing away from me, he scratches the back of his head. “I don’t have the cash to pay for pizza for all those boys. Not ‘til I get paid again. They eat me out of house and home half the time.”

“Here,” I say, ignoring the pit in my stomach when I pull out a hundred from my wallet. I normally keep emergency funds on me, but between the Uber after I left that godforsaken cabin, and now this, I’m going to have to restock.

With a nod, he doesn’t answer me. Instead, he shouts, “Cristián! Take Ale and grab some pizza for dinner!” Leaving me alone in the kitchen, I wait until the cheers die down, then sigh loudly as I shove my sleeves up to my elbows.

Holding back my gag, I start rinsing and stacking dishes to handwash later. After some time of scraping old food into the trash and wiping down counters, I start scrubbing as I hear my brothers arrive with pizza.

“Save me some!” I shout, not wanting to stop since I’ve finally made some progress. Someone responds, but it’s muted through the shut door to the living room.

I quickly run out of room to stack the clean dishes on the counter, so I turn with a freshly washed pan to stack on the island behind me, only to come face to face with him .

“Lucifer,” I whisper hiss.

My patience is about to snap, and if this little fucker thinks now is the time to mess with me, he’s got another thing coming. One step forward, and I freeze when Lucifer’s back arches slowly, his fur rising on end. A low warning growl falls from deep within his chest. Eye contact. That’s what I’ve always felt was important when two creatures are trying to establish dominance, so I unblinkingly lock eyes with his dilated yellow orbs.

“Today is not the day, Satan,” I warn, reaching out to set the pot on the counter next to him. As soon as I release it, this motherfucker bares his teeth and hisses.

We both jerk when the kitchen door slams open and my brother comes barreling in, sprinting straight for the refrigerator. Whipping the door open, I run toward him to catch the bottles about to topple out, Lucifer swiping at me as I pass him.

“Goddamnit, you little shit!” I shout, wincing from the slice he left across the top of my forearm.

“Miri, don’t shout at Tito!” Damián scolds me, fisting his juice box as he moves closer to Lucifer to comfort him. I swear, this cat starts purring and rubbing against him.

Dragging my finger across the blood beading up from my scratch, I shoo them away. “Just take him out of here, please. I’m going to finish up in here and I’d like to do it without worrying about my safety.”

“You just gotta scratch him behind his ears. He loves that.” My brother demonstrates as if I haven’t been fending for my life for years with this cat. Lucifer dips his head and leans into his hand, his purrs growing louder. “See? He loves it!”

Throwing Tito over his shoulder, the cat narrows his eyes as the two of them leave the room, my shout following them. “Don’t forget to save me some pizza!”

The door shuts without a response. Ignoring my growling stomach, I hurry through the remaining dishes and am wiping down the counters when Ale and Cristián arrive, carrying a pile of empty boxes.

“Oh, thank God. What’s left?” I ask, try to peek into the top box as Alejandro passes by me. “Please tell me you at least saved a few pieces of pepperoni.”

“I thought you already grabbed your slices.”

I drop the lid from the top box and look between the two of them. “Are you kidding me? I asked twice for you save me something so I could clean up your mess in here! There’s nothing left?”

With a shrug, he continues past me to set the empty boxes on the counter next to the overflowing trash can. “My bad. I didn’t hear you. Should have come in when it we got back.”

“ Hey! I just cleaned right there! Don’t start stacking garbage back up.”

Groaning, he picks them back up. Cristián hurries to set his empty boxes on top. As soon as my second youngest brother slips from the kitchen to run it outside, Cristián clears his throat.

“Sorry, hermana . We really thought you ate. I would have saved some.”

Waving him off, I bite my tongue to lash out, but we both know they’re dicks when my stomach growls loudly.

After another throat clearing, he adds, “I’ll take out the trash. Sorry again. Kitchen looks real nice.”

I open the fridge and only manage to find a few string cheeses in one of the drawers. It’ll have to do. Deciding to say fuck this day, I pick my way through the living room, refusing to pay any mind to the mess they’ve left in here after devouring the dinner I paid for.

Papá is passed out in his chair with his mouth hanging open, so I cover him with a throw blanket, then find the futon couch in my old bedroom. It was very quickly turned into a storage space when I moved out, but at least they’ve kept this here so I have a place to sleep.

In the dark, I lay on my back and stare blankly at the ceiling. The last four days run through my head, and I force myself to roll over onto my side and shut my eyes when I feel them well with tears.

I love my family, but I can’t stay here. I need to go home.