Island Affair (Keys to Love #1) - Priscilla Oliveras Page 0,3
top step. The fire station door clicked shut behind him. “Look, I get that you’re pissed about the way the Captain handled things. But you’ve been simmering like Mami’s old pressure cooker off and on for a while. That call a few weeks ago made it worse. I’m not saying you gotta fix things with Enrique, but—”
“Don’t go there,” Luis warned, an angry edge in his voice.
Carlos held up a hand, stalling Luis’s argument. “I’m not. That’s between you two. I am saying, you were dealt a raw deal back then. Sure, we handle things our own way. The thing is, as much as you’d like to think so, you can’t save everyone. But shit, you’re not even trying to save yourself.”
His brother’s plea slammed into Luis like a battering ram to the chest. It caught him by surprise, but not enough to shake his resolve.
“That’s because I don’t need saving.”
He simply needed to keep his mind busy, distracted. That’s what kept unwanted memories and thoughts at bay.
Carlos let out an exasperated huff as he rolled his eyes. “You’ve got a week off, use it to figure out how you can get out of your rut. Hell, surprise us all by shaking things up a little. It’ll do you good, my saintly brother.”
Hands on his hips, Luis squinted up at Carlos, shocked by his unexpected, unsolicited advice.
Rut? What the hell?
“I have no idea where this unnecessary pep talk is coming from. Like I said, I’m fi—”
“Fine. Yeah, I heard you,” Carlos interrupted. “I’ve been hearing you for years now. I’m just . . .”
Raising an arm to wave off his brother, Luis hurried down the last few stairs. “Okay, okay! I’m off to ‘shake things up.’ I’ll catch you later. Don’t pull a muscle climbing into your truck to inspect those runways. I know how demanding that can be on your old-man body!”
“Bite me!” Carlos yelled back, his typical laughter back in his voice. Seconds later, Luis heard the station door slam shut.
Chuckling at his brother’s goodbye, he pulled his Ray-Bans from his T-shirt collar and slipped them on. He crossed the shaded area underneath the fire station to his dark blue Ford F-150 King Ranch pickup, parked in a spot next to the south end of the airport near the baggage claim area.
Shake things up. Get out of your rut.
Carlos’s words taunted Luis with their infantile “I dare you” undertone. He blew out an irritated breath, then pushed the conversation aside when his attention was drawn to a group of rowdy college-aged kids piling into a taxi van nearby. Voices raised, they excitedly discussed barhopping plans while snapping selfies with their cell phones. Behind them, two middle-aged couples dressed in shorts and matching tropical button-ups awaited the next available taxi.
Luis fished his keys out of his front jeans pocket and watched passengers streaming out of the building. Some wearily dragging rolling suitcases. Most clutching cameras, island maps, sun hats, or some type of beach paraphernalia, their expressions bright with expectation.
So many people scrimped and saved for ages dreaming of visiting his hometown. They traveled for miles, vacationed for days, brought money to local businesses, then left. Poor souls.
He remained among the lucky ones who called Key West home. Always had. Always would. A Conch through and through.
The highs and lows of his life had taken place here, or somewhere within the stretch of Keys linked by the Overseas Highway. One of those lows, and the difficult aftermath it caused, had nearly pushed him to leave. Take a better-paying job at a firehouse on the mainland.
But no. His familia was here, had been for three generations. Even Enrique, the younger brother he now kept at a slight distance but would never shut out. Familia was familia. Good, bad, or indifferent. Their parents had tried to instill that loyalty in them. Unlike Enrique, if there was one thing Luis took seriously, it was his responsibilities.
Luis reached his truck at the same time a beat-up beach cruiser sedan pulled out of the passenger pickup lane. Its engine revved, then backfired. The shotgun sound startled Luis, along with several passengers who ducked for cover. His keys slid from his fingers, clanking onto the asphalt near the rear driver’s side tire.
He bent down to pick them up, more of his brother’s words echoing in his head. It’s time you took a step back from helping everyone else.
Screw that. Helping was in Luis’s DNA. It’s what led him to graduate high school having already earned