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He leans back and scoffs. “Do I look stupid to you?”
“What?” I ask.
“You think I’m just going to divulge private information about her and her family to you?” he asks, walls slamming up all around him.
“What, no, that’s not—”
“Look, if you don't know anything, fine. But I’m not breaking her trust to help you stay in the loop,” he says, the accepting nice guy act slipping by the second.
“That’s not it at all. Seriously, man. I know you don’t like me.”
“I never said—”
“It’s fine, I get it. I wouldn’t like me either. But don’t pull that shit with me. Not now,” I say, shaking my head.
Sander jerks his head back, scrutinizing every word I say.
“What shit? I never said I didn’t like you. Did Keaton say that?” he asks, eyes flashing back and forth between mine.
“No, she didn’t have to. It was obvious,” I chuckle softly, remembering the day I told Keaton the same thing. “You guys are best friends. Sounds like you have been for years. When shit went down with her brother, you stepped in and protected her. You love her, and I know that. But I also know it's more than that.”
Sander hardens his expression, shielding his emotions.
“And then here I come, ruining everything. I became a threat to your dreams of a future with her,” I say, watching him take it all in. “I wouldn’t like me either.”
He nods, clearing his throat before dropping his head. I turn away, letting him deal with his emotions.
After a beat, I continue.
“Look, man, you don’t have to like me. That’s fine. But understand that I love her,” I admit, my voice cracking. Sander turns his eyes to me, my emotion mirroring his own. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“She said she broke up with you,” he says, his voice quiet and unsure.
“We had an argument. I hid something from her that I shouldn’t have, and my family drama interfered with the dinner she came to. She needed to cool down. I knew that. If she still wants to end things, I have to respect that. But until then, I won’t stop until the shit that put her in that hospital bed is put to rest.”
He nods his head, a look of respect passing between us.
“Then I guess we better get down to it,” he says.
“What do you mean Eli was framed? There was never any evidence,” Sander says, brows drawn tightly together.
“There isn’t going to be. Keaton said that Eli told her something felt off long before the day he was arrested. He learned that Mateo was in with some shady people and wanted to sever ties. I guess Mateo didn’t take that so well,” I explain, watching Sander try to fit the pieces together.
“Who was he in with?” He asks, but something in his expression tells me he already has an idea.
Locking eyes with him, I weigh my options. I could keep that bit of information to myself, but then Sander wouldn’t see the gravity of the situation. Drawing in a breath, I tell him.
“From what Keaton told me, Eli found out that Mateo is employed by Santiago Castillo. His entire gang is, actually.”
The blood drains from Sander’s face. “You’re sure?”
“As sure as I can be,” I admit, knowing that hearsay isn’t much to go off of.
His eyes lose focus, staring somewhere in front of us.
When he doesn’t speak up, I do.
“Want to share with the class?” I ask in an attempt to lighten the mood.
