CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
On Gilberto’s porch, Becca held the mortar as Cyrus rested his front paws on the side and licked the brownish-orange paste. She wondered what it tasted like. Cyrus was reluctant to eat it at first, but he was almost done now, cleaning the sides of the mortar.
“Maybe I should have asked him for a favor,” Rocco said, rubbing his arm.
“I told you we should have stopped at the pharmacy on the way here,” Luna said. “You refused. Said you had to protect us. Literally nothing happened in there, babe. You could be wearing a sling right now.” She rubbed his arm and clucked her tongue. “Your arm is really bad.”
“Forget I said anything,” Rocco said, irritated.
Desmond, who was sitting on the edge of the porch, watching the street, hopped down and ordered a rideshare on his ph
