The garage looked the same.
Same rusted sign. Same oil stains on the concrete. Same smell of gasoline and grease and old coffee.
I stood across the street and stared at it. My hands were shaking. My eyes were burning.
"We're home," Nellie said.
"We're home."
Cade put his hand on my back. "You okay?"
"I don't know."
"That's okay."
I crossed the street. My legs felt heavy. Each step was a mile.
The garage door was open. Inside, I could see the familiar shapes. The workbench. The tool chest. The old radio that only played corridos.
And Tío Ray.
He was sitting on a stool. His back was to me. He was staring at the wall.
"Dad."
He turned.
His face was older. Thinner. The circles under his eyes were darker.
"Lena."
He stood up. His legs were shaking.
I ran to him.
He caught me.
