There was no real bitterness to his tone, though I sensed how much he hated the boyfriend. Fleetingly, I wondered about his angel father, but now didn’t seem the time to ask. I swallowed. “Seb...” I couldn’t finish the sentence; there were no words.

He saw my face and instant regret came over his, that he had upset me. He reached out and put his hand over mine, gripping it gently. “Querida, it’s all right,” he said. “No one has hurt me in years.”

I hated it that anyone had ever hurt him at all. I squeezed his hand back and then drew away, wishing my traitor pulse hadn’t skipped at his touch. “Hey, you’re supposed to be my brother,” I said, trying to joke. “Brothers don’t hold their sisters’ hands or call them querida.”

Seb smiled, his hazel eyes starting to dance. “Yes, they do,” he said. “This happens all the time.”

“Well, I guess things are different in Mexico then,” I said. “Because in America, no way. And I’m an American.”

“But you’re in Mexico now,” he pointed out.

“Right. And you’re saying that here, boys hold hands with their sisters and call them sweetheart.”

“Oh, yes. We’re very friendly, we Mexicans.”

I laughed then; I couldn’t help it. Seb grinned. I could sense his pleasure to see me smiling again, and something stirred deep inside me, a feeling I didn’t really want to analyze. I just knew I was very glad that Seb was in my life now. Aside from anything else, it felt wonderful to have a friend again – apart from Alex, I’d felt like such an outcast these last few weeks.

“So what about your angel?” I asked.

A few soft-looking brown curls were hanging over Seb’s forehead; he shoved them back impatiently. “After I escaped the reformatorio, I went back on the streets. And for three or four months...” He shook his head. “I wasn’t a person you’d want to know. I hated humans; I wanted to hurt them. All I wanted was to be pure angel, so nothing could hurt me. I got into fights all the time – I almost dared people to look at me wrong, so I could jump them. I smashed windows, I burned cars, I stole...” He fell silent, his eyes troubled. “Not a good time,” he finished finally.

And all I could think was...before he went to get improved at that place, the worst he’d ever done was pick pockets.

“Anyway, my angel didn’t like this,” said Seb. “Before, I never really felt him inside me. He was always just me. There when I needed him, but me.”

“Yes!” I burst out. “Yes – that’s exactly what it was like at first.”