Chapter 6: The Breakup Fallout Jim walked down the stairs of Valeria's building in a daze. His hands were shaking. His chest felt tight, like someone had wrapped a rope around his ribs and pulled. The door slammed. That sound kept replaying in his head. Over and over. He stepped out onto the street. The cold air hit his face but he barely felt it. People walked past him, heading wherever the fuck people go on Saturday afternoons. Jim just stood there on the sidewalk, trying to process what the hell had just happened. Did they just break up? Was that a breakup? His phone buzzed. Kenny again. Jim ignored it. He couldn't talk to anyone right now. Couldn't explain what happened when he didn't even understand it himself. He started walking. Didn't know where he was going. Just walked. His mind kept replaying the fight. Valeria's face when he admitted he didn't trust her. The way her expression crumbled. The way she'd told him to leave. Maybe I don't. Those three words. Jim wished he could take them back. But he'd meant them. That was the worst part. In that moment, standing in her apartment with Miguel's shit all over the couch, Jim had meant every word. He pulled out his phone and finally looked at Kenny's texts. **Kenny:** how'd it go **Kenny:** ??? **Kenny:** bro answer me **Kenny:** jim seriously Jim typed back. **Jim:** it went bad **Kenny:** how bad **Jim:** she kicked me out **Kenny:** fuck **Kenny:** what happened **Jim:** i told her i didn't trust her **Kenny:** oh shit **Kenny:** what'd she say **Jim:** told me to leave **Jim:** i think we broke up **Kenny:** you THINK? **Jim:** i don't know man **Jim:** she said she needed space **Kenny:** that's not a breakup **Kenny:** that's just a fight **Jim:** felt like a breakup His phone started ringing. Kenny calling. Jim declined it. He kept walking. Ended up at a small park a few blocks from Valeria's place. There was a basketball court, empty except for one kid shooting free throws. Jim sat on a bench and stared at nothing. His phone buzzed again. This time it was Zion. **Zion:** kenny told me **Zion:** you good? **Jim:** no **Zion:** you at home? **Jim:** park near val's place **Zion:** which one **Jim:** the one on 78th **Zion:** stay there **Zion:** i'm coming Jim didn't respond. He just sat there, watching the kid miss free throw after free throw. The ball clanged off the rim, bounced on the pavement, rolled away. The kid would chase it, bring it back, shoot again. Miss again. Twenty minutes later, Zion showed up. He sat down next to Jim without saying anything. They just sat there for a while. Watching the kid shoot. "You wanna talk about it?" Zion finally asked. "Not really." "Fair." More silence. The kid made a free throw. Celebrated like he'd won a championship. "I fucked up," Jim said. "How?" "I told her I had Nancy spy on her." Zion winced. "You told her that?" "She figured it out. Asked me if I was watching her. I couldn't lie." "Damn." "Yeah." "What'd she say?" "Called me controlling. Said I didn't trust her." "Do you?" Jim didn't answer right away. The kid missed another free throw. "I don't know anymore." Zion nodded slowly. "That's the real problem then. Not Miguel. The fact that you're questioning it." "Nancy said the same thing." "Because it's true, bro. If you trusted Val, Miguel being around wouldn't matter. You'd be like 'cool, she's helping her cousin' and move on." "But he's too comfortable with her." "According to Nancy. Who was there for what, ten minutes?" Jim looked at Zion. "You think I'm wrong?" "I think you're scared. And when you're scared, you see threats everywhere." "I'm not scared." "Bro, you had your brother's girlfriend follow your girl to a coffee shop. You're terrified." Jim wanted to argue. But Zion was right. He was terrified. Terrified that Miguel was better for Valeria than he was. Terrified that she'd realize Jim wasn't enough. Terrified that eight months meant nothing compared to years of shared history and language and culture. "What do I do?" Jim asked. "You give her space. Like she asked." "And then what?" "Then you figure out if you can actually trust her. Because if you can't, this is over anyway." Jim's stomach dropped. Hearing it said out loud made it real. "I don't want it to be over." "Then trust her." "It's not that simple." "It literally is, though." Zion stood up. "Come on. Let's get out of here. You look depressed as hell." Jim followed him back to the subway. They rode in silence, Zion scrolling through his phone while Jim stared at his reflection in the window across from them. He looked like shit. Felt worse. When they got to Jim's stop, Zion got off with him. "You don't have to—" "I'm staying until you're not being weird," Zion said. They walked to Jim's building. Inside, his mom was in the kitchen with Becky, making cookies. The smell hit Jim as soon as he opened the door. "Mijo!" Roxanne looked up, then frowned when she saw his face. "Qué pasó?" "Nothing, Mom." "Don't lie to me. You look terrible." "I'm fine." Roxanne looked at Zion. "What happened?" "Fight with Valeria," Zion said before Jim could stop him. "Zion—" "She deserves to know, bro." Roxanne wiped her hands on a towel and came over. "What kind of fight?" "It's not a big deal." "Jim." He sighed. "We just... disagreed about something." "About Miguel?" Jim stared at her. "How do you know about Miguel?" "You think I don't pay attention? You've been acting strange all week." "I'm fine, Mom. Seriously." "You're not fine. You look like someone died." "Can we not do this right now?" Roxanne studied him for a long moment. Then she pulled him into a hug. Jim stood there stiffly at first, then slowly wrapped his arms around her. "Whatever happened, you'll fix it," she said softly in Spanish. "You're stubborn, but you're not stupid." "Pretty sure I was stupid today." "Then apologize." "I tried. She kicked me out." "Then try again later. When she's calmed down." Jim pulled away. "What if she doesn't want to talk to me?" "She will. Give her time." Becky appeared from the kitchen, chocolate all over her face. "Are you sad, Jimmy?" "No, Beck." "You look sad." "I'm just tired." "Do you want a cookie? Cookies make everything better." Despite everything, Jim smiled. "Sure, Beck. I'll take a cookie." She ran back to the kitchen and returned with the biggest cookie on the plate. Still warm. Jim took a bite and it actually did make him feel slightly less terrible. "Thanks, kiddo." "You're welcome!" She hugged his leg and ran back to help Roxanne. Zion grabbed a cookie too. "Your sister's a genius." "Yeah. She is." They went up to Jim's room. Zion flopped on the bed while Jim sat at his desk, staring at his phone. No new texts from Valeria. He wanted to text her. Wanted to apologize. But Nancy's words kept echoing in his head. Give her space. So he set his phone down and tried to distract himself. Turned on the TV. Pulled up the Bucks game from last night that his dad had mentioned. Giannis was destroying people. Dunking on dudes, blocking shots, making it look easy. Jim watched him work and felt even worse about himself. Here was a guy who trusted his teammates completely. Who played with pure joy. Jim couldn't even trust his own girlfriend. "You gonna text her?" Zion asked. "She said she needed space." "Yeah, but—" "I'm giving her space." Zion didn't push it. They watched the game in silence. Jim's phone sat on the desk, screen dark. Every few minutes he'd glance at it, hoping to see Valeria's name pop up. Nothing. Around six, Greg came home. Jim heard him downstairs talking to their mom. Then footsteps on the stairs. Greg knocked on the door frame. "Nancy told me what happened." "Cool." "You good?" "Fantastic." Greg came in and sat on the edge of the bed next to Zion. "You really told Valeria about Nancy?" "She figured it out." "That was dumb." "Thanks for the insight." "I'm serious, Jim. You should've just kept your mouth shut." "What was I supposed to do? Lie?" "Yes! Obviously!" Zion laughed. "He's not wrong." "I'm not lying to her," Jim said. "Even if the truth makes everything worse?" Greg asked. "Especially then." Greg shook his head. "You're too honest for your own good sometimes." "Better than being a liar." "There's a middle ground, you know. It's called tact." Jim didn't respond. Greg was probably right. But it was too late now. His phone buzzed. Jim grabbed it so fast he almost dropped it. **Valeria:** we need to talk His heart jumped into his throat. **Valeria:** but not tonight **Valeria:** i need to think **Jim:** okay **Jim:** whenever you're ready **Valeria:** thanks That was it. Jim stared at the screen, waiting for more. Nothing came. "What'd she say?" Zion asked. "She wants to talk. But not tonight." "That's good, right?" "I don't know. Maybe." Greg stood up. "At least she's willing to talk. That means it's not over." "Doesn't mean we're okay either." "No. But it's something." After Greg left, Jim tried to focus on literally anything else. Played some 2K with Zion. Lost every game because he couldn't concentrate. Scrolled through Instagram and saw a post from Demitra Kalogeras at some party. She'd tagged him in her story—a throwback video of him from the game against Lincoln Prep. He replied with a fire emoji, barely paying attention. His mind kept circling back to Valeria. To Miguel. To the mess he'd created. That night, Jim barely slept. Again. He kept checking his phone, hoping Valeria would text. Tell him they were okay. Tell him anything. But she didn't. Sunday morning came. Jim dragged himself out of bed and went straight to the gym. Not the school gym. The one a few blocks from his house that was open twenty-four hours. He spent three hours there. Running drills. Shooting until his arms hurt. Working out until sweat soaked through his shirt and he could barely lift his arms. Physical pain was easier to deal with than emotional pain. When he finally got home, Lenny was in the living room watching SportsCenter. "You look like you got hit by a truck," Lenny said. "Thanks, Dad." "Wanna talk about it?" "Not really." "Girl problems?" Jim sat down on the couch. "Yeah." "Valeria?" "Yeah." Lenny muted the TV. "What happened?" Jim told him. Not everything. But enough. The cousin from Spain. The jealousy. The fight. The breakup that maybe wasn't a breakup. When he finished, Lenny was quiet for a minute. Then he said, "You trust her?" "I don't know." "That's your answer then." "What do you mean?" "If you have to think about whether you trust someone, you don't. Trust isn't a question. It's a certainty." Jim felt something sink in his chest. "So you think I should break up with her?" "I think you should figure out why you don't trust her. Is it because she did something wrong? Or because you're insecure?" "I'm not—" "Jim. You're seventeen. You've been dating this girl for eight months. That's not that long. And now some guy shows up from her past and you're losing your mind. That's insecurity, not intuition." Jim wanted to argue. But his dad was right. "So what do I do?" "You decide if you can get past it. If you can't, you let her go. If you can, you work on yourself and stop looking for problems." "What if I'm right, though? What if something is going on?" "Then you'll find out eventually. But you can't build a relationship on suspicion. That's not sustainable." Jim nodded slowly. His dad was making sense. Which sucked, because it meant Jim had been wrong. The rest of Sunday crawled by. Jim tried to distract himself with homework, with basketball highlights, with anything. Nothing worked. Monday morning, he dreaded going to school. Dreaded seeing Valeria in the hallways. Dreaded everything. But he went anyway. First period was fine. Valeria wasn't in that class. Second period, same. But third period—English—they had together. Jim walked in and saw her already sitting in her usual spot. She glanced up when he entered, then looked away. He sat in his seat across the room. Didn't look at her. Didn't know what to do. Class started. Ms. Rodriguez talked about The Great Gatsby or some shit. Jim didn't hear a word of it. After class, everyone filed out into the hallway. Jim grabbed his stuff slowly, hoping Valeria would leave first. She didn't. She was waiting by the door when he walked out. "Jim." He stopped. Turned to face her. "Hey." "Can we talk?" "Yeah. Of course." They moved to the side of the hallway, away from the crowd. Valeria looked tired. Like she hadn't slept either. "I've been thinking about what you said." "Val—" "Let me finish." She took a breath. "I'm not ready to throw away eight months over this. But I need you to actually trust me. Not just say you do. Actually trust me." "I want to." "Wanting to isn't enough. Either you trust me or you don't." "It's not that simple." "It is, though. Miguel is my cousin. He's staying with me because he's going through a hard time. That's it. Nothing else is happening. But if you can't believe that, then we don't have anything." Jim's throat felt tight. "I'm trying, Val. I swear I am." "Then try harder. Because I can't keep defending myself to you every time Miguel and I are in the same room." "I know. I'm sorry." "Sorry isn't enough either." She looked at him, her eyes red. "I need you to decide. Can you trust me while he's around? Yes or no?" Jim wanted to say yes. Wanted to tell her everything was fine and he'd get over it. But he couldn't. Not when every time he pictured her with Miguel, his stomach twisted. "I don't know," he said quietly. Valeria's face fell. For a second, she looked like she might cry. But instead, she just nodded. "Then I guess we're done." "Wait—" "No, Jim. I'm serious. I can't be with someone who doesn't trust me. It's not fair to either of us." "Valeria, please—" "I'm sorry." She turned and walked away. Jim stood there in the hallway, watching her leave. Students pushed past him, heading to their next classes. The bell rang. He didn't move. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, hoping it was Valeria. It wasn't. Unknown number. **Unknown