Dos’s Point of View
There’s a rare kind of stillness that comes when your world finally feels right.
And I was living in it now.
June sat at the garden table with my parents, laughing—no, glowing—with ease, like she’d belonged here all her life. She was pouring juice for Mom, tossing playful banter with Dad, and nudging Tres with a knowing smirk whenever he teased back. No nervous glances, no hesitations. Just her—radiant, warm, and fearless.
God, she was beautiful.
“You’re staring again,” Tres said beside me, nudging my elbow with a beer can. “Like some sappy telenovela lead.”
I chuckled and took the beer. “Truly, deeply, madly f*****g in love.”
Tres made a face like he’d swallowed a lemon. “Christ. That was graphic. Who are you and what have you done with my brother?”
I laughed q
