20. Beatriz #2
I roll my eyes, wiping my face with the sleeve of my shirt.
She leans back and grins. “I bet you he never left. Open my door. Go see.”
I barely make it to the front door before I’m already yanking it open. And there he is.
He didn’t leave .
Sitting on the steps like he never thought to leave, elbows on his knees, gaze fixed on the street like it holds answers he’s been begging for. There’s something hollow in his posture—something that makes my chest squeeze too tight.
I did that.
The guilt hits me hard. I don’t know how long he’s been out here, or what was going through his mind all this time—but whatever it was, I put it there.
He looks up the second he hears the door creak. His eyes meet mine, and everything inside me stumbles. He stands. Slowly. Like he doesn’t know if he should hope.
I don’t say anything. I can’t. My throat closes up as I close the space between us and wrap my arms around him
No hesitation. No words. Just… him.
I wrap my arms around him so tight it feels like I’m trying to disappear into his chest. I press my face into his shoulder, breathe him in, and hold him like the world’s about to fall apart around us.
“Lo siento, Alejandro,” I whisper, voice cracking. “I’m so sorry. I’m such an idiot.”
His arms come around me in an instant, strong, familiar, and safe.
“No,” he murmurs into my hair. “You’re not. You’re not an idiot. I’m just glad you listened.”
“I should’ve trusted you. Trusted her. I just…” I pull back to look at him. His face is a storm of love and worry. “I believe you. And Andrea. I know nothing happened. I do.”
His thumb brushes under my eye, catching what’s left of my tears.
“I’m sorry too,” he says gently. “I should’ve told you about what your dad thought. I just didn’t want to make it worse.”
I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. I get it. I really do. And I’m sorry for doubting you.”
He leans in, forehead resting against mine. “And I’m sorry for ever giving you a reason to.”
I press my lips to his. Slow and soft at first, then deeper, like we’re both trying to say everything we’ve been holding in.
I missed him. Even for two days—I missed him like it’d been years.
His hands move up my back, warm and careful, like he’s afraid I’ll pull away again. But I won’t, and I don’t.
“Do you still need space?” he asks quietly.
“God, no.” I shake my head against him. “Please never let me do that again.”
A soft, low chuckle escapes him. His lips skim the corner of mine. A crooked smile tugs at his mouth. “Wasn’t planning to.”
“Promise?”
His voice dips lower, rough around the edges. “Next time you try to run, I’m dragging you back inside and making you forget how to stand.”
I don’t move. Not right away. Not when his arms are around me and everything in me aches with the weight of the last two days. I stay there, tucked beneath his chin, listening to his heartbeat like it’s some kind of lifeline. His hands skim up and down my back, slow, as if grounding both of us.
When he finally speaks again, it’s soft and shaky. "I was scared out of my damn mind, Beatriz."
My fingers curl into his shirt.
“I thought I lost you,” he says, voice low and hoarse. “Not because of what your dad said, or the way you looked at me. Just the silence. Not hearing from you. That’s what killed me.”
I pull back a little to see his face. There’s something raw in his expression, like he’s been holding this back just to keep us from breaking even more.
"I kept checking my phone," he continues, eyes flicking away, ashamed. "Every hour. Every minute. Like some pathetic idiot who thought maybe this time your name would light up my screen."
“You’re not pathetic,” I whisper.
“I felt it. The second you looked at me like I wasn’t yours anymore.” His eyes meet mine again, and it guts me. “I haven’t felt fear like that in years. Not since I thought my dad wasn’t coming back from the hospital. And even then, it didn’t hit like this."
I reach up and touch his face, thumb brushing the curve of his cheek. “I didn’t know.”
He lets out a soft, bitter laugh. “Of course you didn’t. I didn’t say anything. I just... kept thinking that maybe I messed it up. That maybe you were finally seeing all the ways I’m not good enough.”
“Don’t you dare.” My voice comes out sharper than I expect. “Don’t you ever say that.”
“I know I’m not perfect, Bee. I’ve made mistakes. But losing you?” He swallows hard. “That would be the one I couldn’t live with.”
Tears prick my eyes again. Not the hot, angry ones from earlier. These are different. Softer. Sadder.
“I don’t want to go back to those two days,” I whisper. “I don’t want to feel that distance again.”
“Then let’s not,” he says, brushing his nose against mine. “Let’s never do that again.”
We don’t say anything for a moment. Just stay wrapped up in each other, like maybe if we hold tight enough, none of the world’s bullshit will be able to get through.
Eventually, I exhale, pulling back just enough to look around. “Wanna get out of here?”
His brow arches. “Thought you’d never ask.”
“I just want to be somewhere quiet. Just us.”
He grins, soft and familiar. “My place?”
I nod. “Your place.”
We walk back to the door and I pop my head inside. Andrea is still in the kitchen, sipping her now cold tea and watching us like she already knew.
“You heading out?” she calls.
“Yeah. I need quiet.”
She lifts her mug. “Get some. And Bee?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re stronger than you think.”
I give her a small smile. One that doesn’t quite reach, but it’s getting there. “Thanks for reminding me.”
She winks, then turns back to her tea.
Alejandro and I slip into his car, and the drive is quiet but not awkward. There’s comfort in the silence now. Like we’re still speaking, even without words. He reaches over and laces our fingers together, resting our hands on the console between us. I hold on like I’ll never let go again.
When we pull into his driveway, I let out a long breath. His house feels like peace. Like safety. Like the start of something I’m finally ready to fight for.
I don’t wait for him to open the door. I slide into the living room and sit on the couch like I belong there—because I do. He sits beside me, not touching at first, just watching.
“What?” I ask softly.
“You’re here,” he says.
“I am.”
His eyes search mine. “And you’re not going anywhere?”
“Nope. I’m going to talk to him again,” I say. “My dad. But not alone this time.”
Alejandro nods slowly, something fierce flickering in his gaze.
“You’ll have me and Andrea both,” he says. “You won’t face him alone ever again.”
And for the first time in what feels like forever, I believe that.
I believe in us.