The Taste of Home

Chapter 39

Humid air pressed on Miguel as he wandered down the sidewalk. Most humans were either asleep or visiting bars at this hour, with The Crimson Goat's staff usually among the latter. They'd be at The Iron Cactus by now, bantering over baskets full of wings and, in a few cases, bottles of beer.

He wasn't with them tonight. He was alone, by his own choice this time.

How could Alejandro say such things? He'd never been one to sit back and tolerate the rift between humans and chupacabras before. What had happened to the man who had always stood up for what was right no matter how uncomfortable the situation was?

Miguel had happened.

With so many reasons to worry about Miguel all the time, perhaps Alejandro didn't have the energy to do the same for other chupacabras. Or maybe Miguel was only the exception, not the rule. Alejandro had always stood up for him, but had he ever done anything for other chupacabras outside of the job he was so willing to cast aside if it meant Miguel would be safe?

Miguel tilted his head toward the stars and growled, earning glares from the pedestrians who crossed the dimly lit street to avoid him. That couldn't be right. His Moonbeam wasn't like that.

Was he?

The stars held no answers for him. As bright as they were, they were as distant as always.

The footsteps rapidly approaching behind him were far less so.

Miguel yelped as a thick-fingered hand grabbed his shoulder.

"It's just me!" Ralph loosened his grip. "Yeesh, what's got you so stiff-spined? I've been trying to get your attention, but it was like talking to a sack of potatoes."

"I've had a lot on my mind," Miguel said with a shaky laugh. He forced his spines to lay flat as he bowed his head. "I already know I was a terrible partner tonight. You don't need to tell me."

"What, that little spat?" Ralph snorted. "That was nothing. I don't expect you and Alejandro to be all hugs and cuddles all the time, despite how hard it is for you to keep your hands off each other."

Miguel stared at his feet, his claws scraping against the pavement. If it wasn't a big deal, then why did he feel like he was walking around with only half a heart? What would he do if he couldn't make Alejandro understand how much the restaurant and everything it represented meant to him?

He didn't want to think about it.

"What are you doing here, anyway?" Miguel asked. "Shouldn't you be at The Iron Cactus?"

"Nah, told everybody I have too much of a headache to bother with that tonight. Besides, I've gotta show you something."

"With a headache?"

Ralph sighed. "If you keep being dense, yes. It's called lying. Now stop asking so many questions and come get in my car. We've got a bit of a drive ahead of us."

While Alejandro's car was perfectly pristine other than the claw marks Miguel had accidentally left in his seat, Ralph's was an utter mess. He had to sweep a heap of crumpled-up fast food wrappers onto the floor just so Miguel could sit, and the stench of caked-on grease clung to every crevice. "I'll throw 'em out later," Ralph said with a wave of his hand as Miguel bent to grab the trash. "Now, buckle up. We don't have all night."

Heavy metal music blared through the speakers the moment Ralph turned on the ignition. Miguel winced as the whole car trembled with the vibrations. "Can we at least turn that down?"