The Truth About Mila | Mayans M.C.

| Strawberry Kisses |

The morning might have started off wrong, the rest of it went quite well. Mila and Coco were in heaven, brushing their differences to the side to show the other how much they loved them. The two took a shower, with Mila washing his hair—scolding him for using three in one instead of properly conditioning his hair. Although her nagging was a bit annoying, Coco hadn't experienced someone washing his hair and caring about him in such a way before. This small thing must be what normal felt like.

"Thanks for washing my clothes—"Coco tells Mila before she steps behind him to aggressively use a special towel for wet hair. The man awkwardly allowed it, sqrunching up his face at how rough she decided to be.

"No problem," Mila says, finishing her job. She quickly placed the towel on the back of the chair beside him and sat down on the other—glancing down at the sweatpants he had on. The same sweatpants she had stolen from his house to wear during her rough time of the month.

"I don't remember leaving these here though...."

"You definitely did," Mila defends, taking a long sip of her coffee.

Coco glanced at the large shirt she wore, recognizing that the yellow button-up was his. A finger points in her direction, now knowing where the shirt had gone.

"I've been lookin' for that shirt. Are you stealing my clothes?"

Mila perched her elbow on the glass table, looking up at Coco with batted eyelashes, and smirked;

"You remember when you kicked me out after I met a welcoming Celia? Yeah, I was wearing this shirt. So, this is kind of your fault."

Coco scratches at his damp hair, squinting one eye as he remembers that day. The last thing Coco wanted to do was recall the unnecessary outburst he had created after Celia insulted Mila. He was mean to her for no reason and nearly allowed his mother to ruin something between them. Sure, the couple had been through a lot the last few days, but he wouldn't take back that apology that got Mila back.

"Well shit," Coco snickered, "Guess I shouldn't kick you out of my place like that again, huh? You'll end up with all of my clothes."

Mila giggled, amused by the humor rather than offended. While the time went on Mila's smile faded, thinking about Leticia back at Ez's. The teenager couldn't go back to Celia's, that place will forever hold traumatic memories. She could go live with Coco, but the man was barely home as is and Mila was sure he wouldn't know what to do with a teenage girl who had just started classes to get her GED and still had to work out her own traumas.

So, with the twirl of her hair, Mila looked over to Coco. Ready to lay out the plan on the table.

"We need to talk about Letty," Mila says, taking his hand, and giving it a tight squeeze.

Coco looked over, nodding his head in agreement. His daughter needed him, but he wasn't sure how to approach the situation. He killed the woman who raised her and to face his eldest child after the fact felt frightening.

"She needs somewhere to stay. Somewhere that could give her stability. At least until you can get your house prepared for her," Mila paused, giving him a serious expression. "I have that extra room she can use and I can take her to her classes in the morning. After class or on the weekends, she can help me at the office—I'll pay her so she can also be a little more independent without...selling herself..."

Coco shivered at the idea of Celia forcing his child to do unspeakable things. Letty told Mila enough. Even she, as twisted as the woman could be, found this disgusting.

"You want Letty to live with you?" Coco raised one brow. "Ain't that stupid? You got this shit going on with you. Does she need to be exposed to that stuff?"