I hurried down the road once I walked off base. The arches in my feet ached, but my heart was full. Was I imagining that Beck was falling for me? Over the past few days, he had been talking to me more after work and always engaged with me when I returned at night. 

The way he looked at me made me weak, and I was pretty positive he wanted me. I knew how a man looked at a woman that he desired. With hunger in his eyes.

But even if he was attracted to me, that didn’t mean he was going to cross the line and hit on me. Beck was a man of morals and principles. I didn’t think he would risk ruining our working relationship.

Unless.

Unless he wanted something serious with me. 

And there was no sign that he felt anything more for me than just lust. Oh well, I could dream.

The minutes stretched into an hour, and the fierce wind hit my face. I should’ve accepted Beck’s offer to give me a ride, but I didn’t want to do anything to ruin my job. 

A low rider car drove by, and some men whistled at me. “Cuánto cuesta?”

How much? What, did I look like a prostitute? Maybe they thought I was my mom. I put my head down and increased my pace, hoping they would just drive by and leave me alone. Luckily, they did.

This whole situation sucked. I hated being away from my sisters. Mónica had told me that Ana María had been crying herself to sleep and who knows what kind of trouble Mónica was getting herself into. At least, I hadn’t heard from my mom. 

I raced down the street and finally reached their school. Ana María was sitting outside in front of a tree. 

“Hi sweetie. Did you have a good day at school?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“There’s the daddy/daughter dance next month. And Rosa said because I don’t have a daddy, I can’t go!”

Fuck. My throat tightened. I remembered exactly how it felt to get those fliers. Stupid school. Why did they have those events when it just made some people feel left out? Every year when I found out about that damn dance, I wanted to hide at home and not ever go to school again. Mónica would be missing it also since they went to the same school which was a TK-8^th grade. I wanted to weep for Ana María. I wanted to weep for Mónica. I wanted to weep for myself. 

“Baby, I’ll take you.”

She shook her head. “You are my sister, not my daddy. That will make it even worse. Everyone will laugh at me.”

“Tell you what. I’ll make it up to you. Once we get to San Diego, I’m going to have enough money for you to take dance classes. And then you can go to so many dances.”

“Really? That would be the best. I love you.” She wrapped her arms around my neck.

“I love you, too.” I adored her. I didn’t resent at all that I had to take care of my sisters. I wanted to give them everything. 

But I couldn’t give them a male role model. A father. Someone who would love and protect them the way Beck loved Sky. 

I had to focus on what I could give them. A roof over their heads, food in their bellies, and clothes on their bodies. I still had hope that I could do right by them.

My moment of hope was quickly dashed when I spied Mónica walking out of school, holding hands with a boy.

Oh hell no.

“Mónica! Let’s go.”

“Can I hang out for a bit?” She pressed against the boy’s chest and he touched her bottom.

My own body tensed up. “No. We have to leave now.”

The boy wrapped his arms around my sister and kissed her. God, she was only in eighth grade. I was doomed. I didn't know how I would get through the teen years with her alone.

But then again, I had been messing around with boys when I was her age also. But I had been determined to make a better life for myself. I didn’t know if Mónica would emerge from high school unscathed.

She slowly walked toward me. 

“Who was that?”

“Oh, just Jaime. He’s just a friend.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Do you normally kiss your friends?”

“Just the cute ones.”

Ay, Mónica. I swear. But I didn’t want to lash out at her today. No doubt all the girls in her class were talking about the father-daughter dance today. Maybe some of them even had dresses. I remembered when I was in eighth grade it was my final chance to go to the dance. I had prayed that Ana María’s dad would take me. I had left the flyer on the kitchen table for weeks. Finally, I had worked up the nerve to ask him.

And I’ll never forget what he said.

“I’m not your father.”

That night, I had run away from home for the first time. Drowned my sorrows in the kisses of a high school boy. Lost my virginity in the back seat of his father’s car. Trying to numb away the pain. 

I wiped away a tear.

I stopped at the grocery store to pick up some food for dinner for the girls. Beck had already paid me for my first three weeks. But I was careful to save the funds for everything but food. I needed every penny I earned for once I arrived in San Diego.

We walked over to my uncle’s apartment. Unfortunately, he was at home, sitting there like a sloth, holding a bottle of tequila like it was glued to his palm. Ever since he had been fired from his job and his wife had left him, he had given up hope. Not that I blamed him. It was hard enough to get a job in this town, and once you lost your chance, it rarely came back around.

“Hola. Did you bring any food?”

“Yup. I’ll start cooking now.” 

I quickly headed to the kitchen and sautéed and seasoned the meat. As I was wrapping the mixture into the tortillas, I saw that my uncle was going through my purse.

Oh hell no. “Tío. What are you doing? That’s my money.”

“I’m watching your little brats. You should pay me.”

No. I couldn’t pay him. That would defeat the whole point of taking this job. “No. I need to save it. Please give it back.”

He grabbed a bunch of twenties, and I wanted to cry. I ran over to him.

“Give me my money back, or I’ll call the cops.”

He laughed. “If you call the cops, I’ll tell them that you dumped your sisters here. And they will take them away.”

Fuck. That could definitely happen. But I needed this money. “Please. Once I get more, I’ll send you some. I promise. I need this money to move.”

He didn’t flinch and put the money in his pocket. 

Rage took hold of me, and I lunged at him, but he grabbed his tequila bottle and hit me across the face with it, sending shards of glass everywhere. A sharp pain radiated above my eye, and when I reached up to my head, I could see blood on my hands.

Mónica screamed. “What the hell, Tío José?”

He grumbled something and went to his room.

“You okay, Lo?”

Blood dripped down from my brow and on to my shirt. I sat in the middle of the living room, crying.

Mónica got a towel and hydrogen peroxide and dabbed my face. It stung.

This wasn’t working. I had to get my sisters out of here. 

“Come on. We are leaving.”

“Lo, we have nowhere to go. We can’t go to mama’s. If she isn’t there and the cops come by, they will take us in foster care. Just finish your job. We need you to.”

I shook my head. “No, I can’t leave you here with him. He’s a drunk. A thief. An abuser. This was a stupid idea.”

“He never touches us. It’s only for three months. This is our only way out. I keep Ana María away from him. We will be fine. I don’t have any money for him to take, and I clean the house. We stay quiet.”

I was impressed how mature she was being, watching my sister. I wish she could just be a kid, even though I had never been one. But she was right. I had no choice. Otherwise, the girls could end up in foster care, and I would never get them back. I had to make this work somehow. This was my only way out.

I hugged Mónica and Ana María. “I love you girls so much. We will get through this. Please be strong for me.”

And I prayed again. For another miracle. If I could only get through this job, I just knew we would be okay.