Touched by Angels (Angels Everywhere #3)(77)

“No, Carl. I can’t worry about his feelings any longer. He doesn’t need me to hold his hand.”

“Good girl.” Her grandmother’s face beamed with pride.

“Joshua is the man I love, he deserves my loyalty. As soon as I’ve talked to Carl, I’ll speak to Joshua.”

Sylvia looked well pleased. “That, my dear, sounds like a plan.”

The anger inside Roberto simmered just below the exploding point. His patience was gone, his temper unreasonable, his mood black. He’d probably offended every customer he’d dealt with in the last couple of days. Matters would improve drastically, he realized, if he could stop thinking about Brynn. But that seemed impossible.

He wished to hell she’d leave. Pack her bags, hand in her resignation, and go back where she belonged. Because she sure as hell didn’t fit in this neighborhood. A delicate, beautiful rosebud among thistles.

The only way to convince her he wanted nothing more to do with her was to shove her out of his life. His chest ached with a crippling tightness for all that he’d lost. He hadn’t meant to do it then and there, but she’d forced his actions, coming to him the way she had.

Modesto’s injuries had convinced him of the terrible risk Brynn was taking working in this neighborhood. She was an easy target. Too easy. She refused to listen to reason and defied him at every turn. Fine. She could do as she damn well pleased, but he would have no part of it. Or her.

If she wanted to sacrifice herself over a bunch of screwy, idealistic goals, so be it. But he wasn’t standing by idly to watch her fall on her face. Nor would he be there to pick up the pieces.

For her own good, she had to leave this neighborhood, and she wouldn’t as long as he encouraged her to remain. That was exactly what their relationship was doing.

It was over, and nothing would change his mind. Not this time. Not with Modesto in the hospital, a bullet hole in his chest, and his brother screaming with nightmares.

Roberto heard a movement behind him and glanced over his shoulder to find Emilio standing just inside the garage.

“You gonna bite my head off?” Emilio asked.

“That depends on what you want.”

“Nothing.”

“Then what are you doing here?” Roberto threw a wrench toward the work bench. It landed with a discordant clanking sound. He never abused his tools, but then there was a first time for everything. A first time to fall in love. A first time to turn his back and run from what he wanted most.

“I’m bored,” Emilio confessed. “I thought it’d be fun to stay home.”

“Then go back to school,” Roberto said without emotion. He hadn’t changed his mind about education, but he was willing to agree that Brynn might have a point. For a long time he’d thought Emilio would work with him at the garage. He could teach his brother, and the two of them could be partners. But Emilio didn’t have the knack for working on cars. He liked people, liked being around them.

“I don’t want to go to school,” his brother confessed, walking all the way into the garage. He planted the tips of his fingers in his jeans pockets. This was the stance he chose when he had something to hide. His brother tended to be transparent about such things, and frankly, Roberto was grateful.

Unwilling to reveal he knew something was amiss, Roberto continued to work on the car, removing the carburetor from an engine. “I thought you liked your classes.”

Emilio shrugged. “The best are the ones Miss Cassidy teaches. She makes learning fun, but she isn’t an easy teacher. Sometimes after school me and the others talk about her.”

Roberto stiffened, then asked nonchalantly, “What do you have to say?” Emilio and the other boys in the class weren’t blind. Brynn was as beautiful as she was naive.

“She talks about things that make a person think, about war and prejudice, and stuff like that. Just about every day she gives us a writing assignment and then has us read what we wrote and talk about it.”

“Like what?”

Emilio’s eyes brightened as he spoke. “We’re reading this book about Anne Frank. She was this Jewish girl, who—”

“I know who Anne Frank is.”

“You do?” This appeared to impress Emilio. “Well, Miss Cassidy asked us to pretend we were the ones in hiding. To share this compact space with another family, to live in constant fear of discovery.”

“And?”

“And we did, and then she had some of us read what we’d written, and I was surprised, you know, by how she tied it in to what’s going on in our world today. Social issues and that sort of thing. The guys and me sometimes talk about the same things we did in class. I don’t do that with any of my other subjects.”

“She’s a good teacher, then.”

“The best I’ve ever had.”

That did and didn’t surprise Roberto. He knew Brynn was popular with the kids, but that didn’t say much about her ability to teach a class.

“Then go back,” Roberto said as though it should be an easy decision. He never did understand Emilio’s sudden desire to quit. The teenager certainly wasn’t any help here at the garage, mooning around, looking miserable. Everything he’d asked Emilio to do thus far, with the exception of errands, he’d had to do over.

“I can’t.”