“I know you are. I know.” She breathes out hard over the phone. “And I’ve forgiven you, mostly, because it wasn’t really your fault. You didn’t know about the gambling. You didn’t know about the meth?—”
“Jesus, can we not?—”
“No, we’re talking about this. Because Gael and Ramiro and Reina, they’ve forgiven you, too. We all have. But we’re not gonna sit back and watch you make the same mistake twice.”
I don’t say anything.
“We only just started hanging out again,” Ximena continues, quieter now. “Like, really hanging out. Not just polite coffee dates where we both pretend everything’s fine. And I missed you, Harper. I missed my friend. But I can’t do this again. I can’t watch you let him back in just so he can destroy everything you’re trying to rebuild.”
“He’s different now.”
“Is he? Or are you just hoping he is because it’s easier than being alone?”
That one lands. “That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?” She sighs. “Look, I’m not trying to be a bitch. I’m trying to be your friend. The friend who had to watch you piece yourself back together after he shattered you. The friend who’sterrified you’re about to hand him the hammer again. Men like him don’t change.”
I watch another mile marker fly by. “He’s Bruiser’s dad,” I say quietly.
“And that’s the only reason he should be in your life. To talk calendars and scheduled visits. Better yet, let the lawyers do it. Anything that doesn’t involve you fucking him.”
I wince even though this is what I always loved about Ximena—she doesn’t sugarcoat shit.
“We’re not—we’re just dating. Trying to see if?—”
“If what? If this time he won’t lie to you? Won’t keep secrets? Won’t spiral and take everyone down with him?”
“People can change.”
“Some people. Maybe. Others have to walk a longer road, and some people never fucking change. And who do they hurt in the meantime?” She pauses. “My tío was an addict. Alcohol. He got sober three different times. Relapsed three different times. The last time, he wrapped his car around a tree with my cousin in the passenger seat.”
“I’m sorry, Ximena. I didn’t know?—”
“I’m not telling you to make you feel bad. I’m telling you because I know what it looks like when someone’s about to forgive the unforgivable because they want to believe in second chances.” Her voice softens. “And I’m scared for you, Harper. For that amazing kid of yours. Hell, I’m scared forme, because if he fucks up again and you go down with him, I don’t know if I can watch that twice.”
The silence stretches between us.
“I’m not going to let him hurt me again,” I finally say.
“You already are. You’re lying to him about where you are right now.”
My blood goes cold. “What?”
She makes a scoffing noise in the back of her throat. “Please. I work in a shop. There’s no tattoo expo in Corpus this time of year. And because you can’t lie to me for shit.”
Fuck. That’s true. There are two people in this world who could always read me like a book, and one of them is Ximena. “How did you?—”
“Because I know you.” She pauses. “Where are you really going?”
Another sign for Dallas flashes by. My hands start sweating on the wheel.
“Harper?”
“Helen’s ten-year memorial,” I say quietly. I swallow and add, “in Dallas.”
The silence on the other end is deafening.
“You’re going to Dallas.” Ximena’s voice is flat. “For a reunion with that other guy you thought might be the baby daddy?”