Chapter 49
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
HEATHER
Soft city lights flooded through the large windows in Hector’s high-rise. I lay in his bed, my chest heavy with guilt and my mind racing with images of what Dad had walked in on earlier. Hector’s entire dick had been in my mouth.
I squeezed my eyes closed, trying to erase the memory. Distant sounds of traffic and the occasional city murmurs drifted through my ears. Hector tightened his grip on my waist, his warmth spreading through my body.
And yet I still couldn’t sleep.
Minutes stretched into hours, and the darkness in the city only became light.
The confrontation with Dad replayed in my mind, his anger and disappointment cutting deeper than any blade could. I hadn t been ready to tell him. I hadn t prepared myself yet. I wanted to make him proud of me first at work, and this had done the complete opposite.
Hector s steady breaths against my ear played like a soothing rhythm. Even with everything going on, even though I d acted crazy by crying all night just because I wanted my father to not be disappointed in me, Hector stayed by my side.
He traced patterns on my arm, and I let my gaze look into the distance, to the city skyline beyond the windows. Pittsburgh was twinkling with Christmas lights, yet I didn’t feel the holiday joy. Would Dad ever find it in his heart to forgive me? Could I ever make him proud?
After gently squeezing me, Hector pulled me closer. Can t sleep?
I turned my head to meet his gaze, the moonlight casting a silvery glow upon his handsome face. I sank down in the bed and allowed my lips to quiver once more. They had barely stopped since earlier.
“No,” I whispered. “I can’t stop thinking about my father.”
Hector brushed away a stray strand of hair that clung to my tear-streaked cheek. I know it s hard, Heather. But you need sleep.
In the distance, light glimmered through the city skyscrapers, pinks and golds painting the sky. I gripped my phone on the opposite side of my body and tilted it up to see if Dad had returned any of my messages.
Me: I’m sorry.
Me: I didn’t mean for you to find out this way.
Me: Can we please talk?
I had texted him in hopes that he d respond, but it had been hours with nothing.
My eyes welled up with tears, a weight on my chest almost suffocating me. I squeezed the phone even tighter in my grip and forced it down by my side. Hector shifted beside me to face me and reached for my phone.
“Heather,” he murmured, “you can’t keep torturing yourself like this.”
“I just … I need to hear from him.”
Gaze softening, he pulled the phone out of my grasp and set it on his nightstand. Then, he lay back down and cupped my cheek with his hand. I know how much this means to you, but give him time to process this. Sending him texts won t help.
My lips quivered. “He’ll never be proud of me. How did this even happen?”
Hector swiped away a tear that had escaped down my cheek with his thumb, his touch gentle. We made choices, Heather. And now, we have to face the consequences. But that doesn t mean he isn t proud of you.
“Oh, come on,” I said. “He has never been proud of me. And he never will now.”
“Is he not proud of you, or are you not proud of you?” he asked.
“Stop,” I whispered, wrapping my arms around myself. “I …”
I didn t like how he always called me out on my bullshit. He didn t have to force me to face how I truly felt. How I didn t feel good enough because I had followed my brother s footsteps in order to please Dad.
Light continued to seep into the room, and my eyes became heavy. I sank back into the pillows and closed my eyes, still upset but so exhausted over everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours.
Once Hector adjusted the blankets around me, he rose from the bed. Get some rest, Heather. We ll talk about this tomorrow.” He crossed the room and drew the curtains closed so it was dark.
While I didn’t want him to leave the bed without me, I really needed the sleep. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, and I snapped my gaze to it. Hector scooped up my phone and walked toward the door.
“Hector, wait,” I said. “Is that him?”
“I know you’re hurting, Heather, but constantly checking for his messages won’t make things better,” he whispered, tilting the screen upward and peering at it. “But if it’ll help you sleep, it’s not him.”
“Will you wake me if he responds?”
“No.”
“But—”
Hector walked to me and placed a kiss on my forehead. Sleep, hon. You need it.