Promises and Pomegranates by Sav R. Miller

I can forget all of that.
But... I don’t.
As I pull out of his hug, something chilly skates across my skin, a
foreboding sensation that makes me a little queasy. Like I’m chasing
something that doesn’t deserve to be caught.
Kal gets up silently, moving in to stand directly behind me; his large
palms clamp down on my shoulders, yanking me back into his front, and then
he’s holding out a hand to Papá, a mask of stoicism guarding his features.
Ariana and Stella stand under the archway connecting the living room to
the foyer, as if waiting to see what happens next before launching themselves
inside.
“Rafe,” Kal says, nodding in acknowledgment, even though the gesture
feels vaguely passive-aggressive.
Papá doesn’t reach out, ignoring Kal’s offer entirely, eyes glued to me.
They harden the longer the silence stretches, but then my sisters must decide
it goes on for too long, because they bound into the living room, giggling and
squealing, pulling me away from Kal and into their arms.
As far as I can tell, not much has changed about them in the weeks that
I’ve been gone; Ariana’s chestnut hair seems a little lighter than it once was,
the freckles on her face more prominent now that it’s springtime, and Stella’s
wearing the same thick-framed glasses, that familiar, bland expression
forever etched onto her round face.
“Okay, officially, we’ve gone way too long without seeing you,” Ariana
says. She pushes back, grabs my biceps, and gives me a once-over.
“Although, we need to talk about how you’re fucking glowing, E! You have
to be getting a healthy dose of vitamin D.”
She wiggles her eyebrows, and I roll my eyes, pushing her away. Mamá
bristles, moving away from the fireplace to glare at us from a closer vantage
point.
“Ariana, honestly.” Sip, then glare. “Is that an appropriate way to talk to
your sister?”
“What, I can’t be happy that she’s getting some?”
Papá makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat. “Che palle,
Ariana. Watch your tongue.”
Scoffing under her breath, she turns back to me, playing with the ends of
my hair.
“They somehow got even stiffer after you left,” Stella whispers, pushing