Embarrassed, Miguel looked down at the table, thinking of the gifts he’d received each time Santos had lost his temper.
“I’m not your keeper, Miguel. I’m just helping out a friend.”
Miguel’s voice rose in anger and frustration at this entire situation. “Then be a friend and not my domestic abuse counselor,” he snapped again. Miguel immediately regretted the show of temper. He was confused and scared, and he was taking all this out on the wrong person. He pulled in a deep breath, slowly letting it out through his nose. The action hurt his ribs, but it also calmed him down. “I’m sorry.”
Hector shrugged. “Don’t apologize. You’re allowed to be a little pissy after what you went through.”
Miguel sighed. “Yeah, but that’s no excuse for yelling at you for trying to help.” He was quiet for a moment then got the conversation moving along to the second thing he needed to address: a job. “You know, I finished my dental assistant training.”
Hector nodded. “I know. My mom called and told me.” Now Hector looked embarrassed. “I meant to call you and say congratulations but things were crazy at work and time got away from me.”
“It’s no big.” Miguel traced the swirly patterns in the wood of the kitchen table with a finger. “Just dental assistant. It’s not like I graduated from dental school or anything.” He mentally flinched. Those words were Santos’s not his. “Anyway, I figured I’d look for a job in a dentist’s office. They’re hard to come by, so I probably won’t be able to get anything great. But I should at least be able to get something that will pay a decent amount of money.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Hector got up to put his own bowl in the sink. “The mamás are probably going to be here soon, so we should get cleaned up. You can use the shower first. There’re towels and soap in the bathroom closet.”
“Okay.” Miguel went out to the living room where he’d left his phone, hoping it still had life since he hadn’t grabbed a charger last night. There was a little battery left, but when Miguel tried to check his notifications, he realized he didn’t have any service. Santos had cut his phone off. Miguel wasn’t sure why he hadn’t expected that. If Santos took his credit cards and car keys, of course he wasn’t going to let him keep his phone line. Still, he stared down at his phone in surprise. It was a shock, not being able to do something as routine as go on Facebook and scroll through his feed. As he stood there holding his useless phone, he suddenly realized just how dependent he’d been on Santos.
Hector joined him in the living room. “Is something wrong?” he asked when he saw Miguel standing there, motionless.
Miguel turned and looked at him. He tried to smile, to put his friend at ease, but his cheeks couldn’t be bothered to put in the work. “Nothing. I just need a new phone. Santos had this one disconnected.” He tossed the cell down on the couch. It landed screen down, the gold glitter of the case sparkling up at him as he continued staring at it. “Not sure how I’m going to get one without any income.” He stopped. The tears in his throat and prickling behind his eyelids were more eager to be seen than his fake smile had been. Miguel tried to hold them back, but the glittering phone case went blurry. “Shit. I have nothing,” he whispered almost to himself. “Fucking nothing.” He was still staring at the phone, silent tears running down his face, when strong arms went around him, pulling him into a hug.
“You’ve got family, Miguel. We’ll get you through this.”
Miguel stood there stiffly for a second, not wanting Hector’s pity. But Hector’s bare chest was warm, and Miguel felt like absolute shit. Maybe he could take a little bit of comfort. He relaxed into the embrace, letting his head rest on Hector’s shoulder. His own shoulders shook with sobs as Hector squeezed him tight. It was nice to be held while he cried. Usually it was him alone in his bedroom, too ashamed to share his troubles with anyone. This was the first time he’d let anyone close enough to see the true effects of his relationship with Santos. Thankfully, Hector didn’t say anything to make Miguel regret opening up. He didn’t offer any stupid platitudes or, worse, blame him. He just gave silent comfort as Miguel cried and came to grips with everything that had happened.
Eventually he calmed. The sobs tapered off and his tears dried up. Hector pushed him back a little, and Miguel stared up at him. He’d had the biggest crush on Hector when they were kids. Of course, nothing had ever come of it. But Hector had always looked out for him, just like he was doing now. Miguel was grateful for that.
“Thanks for helping me. I really appreciate it. I was dumb for getting involved with Santos and for staying with him as long as I did. But I’m going to get my shit together. I promise.”
Hector smiled. “Make that promise to yourself, not to me.” He ruffled Miguel’s hair, giving him a slight push toward his bedroom.
Laughing, Miguel ducked out from under his hand. He took the hint and went to get cleaned up.
***
An hour later, there was a knock at the door. Hector got up and opened the door to see his mother standing there. She held a foil-wrapped baking dish, and several grocery bags dangled from her arms. Claudia stood behind her with even more bags.
“Knocking?” Hector asked her with a raised eyebrow. She usually came and went as she pleased, often stopping by to drop off food or clean his apartment the way she wanted it cleaned. “Did you lose your key?”
“Don’t be smart, Hector. Take some of these bags.”
Hector took the baking dish and half of the bags and stepped aside to let them in. Once Claudia put the bags she carried on the kitchen table, she immediately went to Miguel, gently cupping his face and clucking at his injury. She spoke softly to her son in Spanish. Hector stayed in the kitchen with his own mother to give the two of them privacy.
“You don’t usually bring me groceries,” he said as he watched her unpacking the bags.
“Consider it a thank-you for taking in Miguel. And I know you never have any real food. Miguel likes to cook, so maybe he’ll make the two of you dinner.”
Hector nodded and helped his mother put the groceries away, but his eyes kept returning to his friend. Miguel looked so forlorn as he stood there in front of his mother. He wasn’t much taller than Claudia, which put him around five feet six if he was lucky. Miguel’s build was small overall, but he was in shape. His arms were lean and muscled, his stomach flat. The tight jeans he wore emphasized firm thighs.
As Hector watched Miguel talking with his mother, he noticed his friend’s hair was styled in the floppy curls he’d had as a kid. He remembered the time back in high school when Miguel had shaved his head in an attempt to look more masculine. As far as Hector could tell, all it had done was emphasize his big, dark eyes and long lashes. But he hadn’t let his friend know that.
Hector admitted to himself that Miguel was cute. He always had been. Even now with scruff on his jawline and a bruise on his face that made him want to track down this Santos and give him double the taste of what he’d done to Miguel.
“Hector.”
Hector yanked his gaze away from Miguel, oddly embarrassed that he’d been caught staring at his friend. “Yeah, Mamá?”
“He’s going to need your help you know. More than just letting him stay here.”