Then Choose

The air outside was sharp, heavy with the scent of rain that hadn’t yet fallen. My chest felt tight as I stepped onto the porch, half-hoping, half-dreading that I’d still see one of them.

I thought Joaquin had left. I’d heard a car earlier and the sound of tires fading down the street. Javier, I assumed, had gone the other way. Maybe that was for the best.

But when I turned the corner, both of them were there.

They stood a few feet apart on the cracked pavement, the distance between them pulsing with tension. Neither moved, neither blinked. The way they stared at each other—it wasn’t just anger. It was everything they’d never said, years of bitterness waiting to break loose.

I froze. My breath caught in my throat.

Joaquin’s voice cut through the quiet first. Calm. Cold. “You still can’t stand to lose, can you?”

Javier’s tone matched his, low and edged. “Depends on what game you think we’re playing.”

“This isn’t a game,” Joaquin said tightly. “It’s about her.”

“Yeah,” Javier muttered. “