Epilogue #3
That was the easiest part about this. How effortless it was to be in control of my world and still drop to my knees for them because I wanted to be cared for. Because they could make me feel like I didn’t have to worry about only being strong.
I was theirs.
There was so much power in relinquishing everything to them.
And I always would.
Santos pumped his release down my throat just as Mateo emptied himself inside me.
Ronan proved once again that his stamina had no end once the other two stepped back.
He flipped me on my stomach over the bench, holding nothing back, he moved with the ferocity of a soldier as his fingers tormented the most sensitive bits between my thighs.
We cried together as he forced one final orgasm from me, sweaty and panting from exertion and bliss. They carried me up to our room, washed me and dropped me onto the silk sheets of the bed. Ronan draped a blanket over me before sliding in next to me.
“I just need a fifteen hour nap, then we can go again.” I mumbled out sleepily as the other two cuddled in around me.
“What is all this?” Santos said with marvel in his voice as my hands came off his eyes and his tia and primos shouted surprise.
“It’s your… retirement party. Officially,” I clarified.
Though he had easily slipped into a life of comfort and peace we had never actually discussed him leaving the life. Mateo, Ronan and I all knew he had long been done. He’d killed too many people for Guillermo, and he’d seen too many innocent lives snuffed out to keep going.
So had I.
But some of us were built differently. All I wanted for Santos was happiness and if I could provide it to him by taking the guns out of his hands and replacing it with a Michelada instead, then I was happy to do it.
I had plenty of good soldiers. I had the best of bodyguards. My man deserved for war to be over.
He deserved a way out that didn’t involve a shallow grave.
And more than that he deserved the community and village that his family thrived on. He deserved to have them here. With Guillermo’s untimely death and the family losing the financial means Los Muertos had provided them, I took it upon myself to move the álvarez familia across the border.
There were no tears shed at the mention of her son’s death, and I was sure in some way, she knew that I had been responsible.
But Santos’ tia thanked me regardless and within days they had made their way south and settled in like she had never left.
After all she’d been a girl too when she first left.
It was funny how the motherland always welcomed you back with open arms, no matter how long you’d been away.
I’d been so afraid of her judgment, of what others would think of me, and sure, there were certainly some along the way who felt I was less than for not having grown up here. But at the end of the day, my connection to my country was in my blood, it was in my eyes, and it was in my skin.
And even if I’d lost all those things, it would still be mine because Latinidad was in my soul.
It was something no one could take from me, though they wanted to try.
It was something you lost because you either gave it away, you let it die inside you, or because they’d stolen it from you.
But the beautiful thing about it, was that it was a lot like a fire, all you needed were a few small embers to stoke it back to life.
We stayed up too late, dancing around the fire, drinking strong drinks before giving up on the night. Or rather, the now early morning. Some of Santos’ primos passed out on the floor of whatever rooms they could find to avoid trying to find their way home drunk despite Mateo’s offer to drive them.
“What a sunrise,” Taylor said from her wheelchair as we made our way back inside the house.
“Glad to share it with you.” I smiled at her, Ronan squeezed her shoulder from her other side, and with a slight gesture of his head he silently asked to push her in.
She nodded, and we followed the rest of the way into the guest room she’d been making residence in.
Didn’t feel right to keep her any further away from us.
It was probably not going to be as temporary as we all tried to make it out to be.
She was family. Because family was more than blood, more than who you slept with, more than who you created.
It was the people who were there for you unconditionally.
The ones who cheered you on, who made you believe you were worthy of love and happiness.
“When are you gonna stop milking it and get out of that chair? I was shot twice and was walking a week later,” Ronan teased her.
“Look my ugly friend, I have absolutely nothing to prove. I’m gonna relax and heal on my own.” She elbowed him off her chair and I chuckled.
“I think I keep you around because no one puts him in his place like you do,” I told her.
“What can I say, I have a way with the assholes. Goodnight Celia.”
“Buenas noches amiga.” I shut her bedroom door and followed Ronan back through the hallway to find Santos and Mateo sleeping on the couch together.
Their legs entwined and Santos’ head resting on Mateo’s chest.
“Take a picture, this is adorable,” I whispered to Ronan, knowing damn well my phone had died at least three tequila shots ago.
“Should we wake them up?” he asked, and I shook my head.
“Nah.” I pointed to the other couch. “They look so comfy.” Ronan walked over to the other sofa, laying down and gesturing me towards him.
I sank into his hold, melting in his embrace and smelling the lingering scent of the bonfire in his clothes.
“Te quiero,” I told him.
“Te quiero mucho, mi amor,” he responded. “Is this everything you wanted?”
“And more. Is this enough for you?” I asked, lifting my head up from his chest.
“Enough? You’re everything.” He squeezed me tighter.
“You think it’s enough for them?”
“They wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t, flower.” He kissed the top of my head, his fingers raking gently through my hair, coaxing me into a peaceful sleep.
It was enough. Because we were together.
We were enough.