𝑀𝐴𝐺𝑀𝐴 | 𝐉𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒

𝟏𝟐 | 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄

・𝐉𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄・

"𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄'𝐒 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐎𝐍!"

"Hi, Apa," Jaime sighed as he closed the car door and headed toward the front steps. His father was sitting at one of the lawn chairs, a glass of water in his hand.

His dad stood up as he approached. He spread his arms out, and the smile on his face told Jaime he was expecting good news. "So? How was it?"

"Eh, it was okay." That was a total lie. The job interview he had just come back from—the third one this week—had been so bad that his brain had already blocked out the memory. 

The last thing he wanted to do was talk about it, but knowing his family, he knew he wouldn't get what he wished for. They had all been so excited when he told them about the lineup of interviews he had, and now, he felt like he had let them all down. 

"Ay, you're being modest," his dad chuckled, putting a hand on his back as they walked toward the door. "I'm sure you'll get this one. You're a smart boy—with a university degree!"

Jaime could just give his father a smile before heading inside.

Uncle Rudy was the only one in the living room, though he was taking a nap on his couch. There was some bustling going about in the kitchen, so he assumed his mom had gotten started on dinner.

He walked into the kitchen to see both his mom and Reina working on dinner—his mom was grabbing chicken broth from the pantry while Reina was rinsing some hominy.

At least that was something he could actually smile about. Reina had been a real help to his parents around the house—she had happily done way more chores in the past few days than Jaime and Milagro had their whole lives ("Why didn't you bring her home before?" exclaimed his mother after Reina had vacuumed the living room on her second day there).

"Jaime!" Reina grinned, glancing at him as she moved on to draining the hominy. "How was the interview?"

Seeing his mother's eager smile and hearing his father shuffle into the room behind him, he could do nothing but plaster a smile on his face and say, "Great!"

"That's awesome," Reina said as she dumped the ingredient into the saucepan on the stove before wiping her hands on her jeans. "You'll have a job in no time."

He scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah . . ."

"I'm making your favourite, flaquito," his mom said with a smile, stepping toward him and ruffling his hair. "Turkey posole—extra turkey, just how you like it."

"Thanks, Ama," he murmured. He felt terrible, lying to his parents and telling them that each of his interviews had gone really well, while truthfully, they hadn't gone all that great. To be fair, they could've gone worse—but they sure as hell could've gone better. He was almost certain he wasn't getting any of those jobs.

How supportive his parents were being wasn't helping him feel any better. He was their last hope, after all. Between his father working odd jobs and Milagro being a housekeeper at Victoria Kord's mansion, the income wouldn't half the amount they needed to save the house. Jaime was the only one who could get a good-paying, sustainable job. Or at least, that was the expectation.

He couldn't be more frustrated with himself. The one chance he had to pay his family back for everything that they'd done for him, he was currently blowing.

"This won't take too long to cook—dinner should be ready in fifteen minutes," his mom told him, patting his shoulder. "Wash your hands," she added in Spanish, "and tell your sister to come out."