Chapter 47
Artemis
When I walk out of my bedroom, I expect to find a hive of activity. My shoulders are already braced, muscles locked like I’m stepping into a fight instead of my own apartment.
However, all I find is my mother, face lined with worry, and a compassion that makes emotion leap into my throat.
She stands up from the dining room table, comes toward us, arms outstretched, and pulls Xavier into a gentle side-hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay, Mijo.” She gives him a motherly kiss on his temple.
His cheeks darken. “I’m being well taken care of.” His eyes glance sideways to mine, a zap of electricity passing between us before he presses a kiss to her cheek. “I’ll give you two some time.”
The loss of his presence is immediate and disproportionate, like someone kicked a crutch out from under me and I fell on my ass.
She squeezes his good arm, and he walks away. When I open my mouth to speak, Mamá shakes her head. “This conversation is long overdue, Mijo.” She jerks her chin at the chair next to me. “Sit.”
I sit.
“Artemis.” She takes my hand as she begins, saying my name on what feels like a heavy sigh. “I have loved you since before you were born.”
Something nestled deep in my chest squeezes at her words. They hit harder than any accusation ever could. Love without conditions has always been my lodestone, my North star, the guiding point on my compass.
“I knew when you took your sweet time during delivery that you’d be a stubborn son.
” She squeezes my hand. “Measured. Everything in your own time. And so fiercely protective of your siblings—even if they were older.” She gives me a watery smile.
“And I hope you know that no matter what path you, or your siblings, choose in this life, I will always love you.”
Her free hand travels to her chest, and she touches her heart.
“Some days I don’t think my heart is big enough to hold all the love I have for the four of you.
” She swallows, her voice cracking. “And I’m so very proud of all of you.
” Her eyes flit between mine, like she’s searching for confirmation that I hear her.
“But I can’t let you keep doing this to yourself, Mijo.”
When tears roll down her face leaving tracks on her cheeks, I about lose it.
“I stayed quiet, hoping that someone, something would get through to you and you’d see sense. When you started seeing Xavier, something shifted, but it wasn’t enough, you still maintained this fruitless need to beat your father.”
Beat him. Outwork him. Outlast him. Prove I can survive anything without breaking. Maybe even all of the above. I didn’t realize until this very moment that winning stopped being the point somewhere along the way.
When I open my mouth to protest, or defend myself, she holds up her hand. “You’re too far into this mess for me to talk you out of it, Artemis. It’s not my life, my business, or my decision.”
My chest eases just enough to suck in a breath. So… what is she here for?
“But I can help you.”
What? I blink at her.
“I’ve already spoken to the board members. Your father seems to have forgotten that I introduced him to some of those crotchety old men. You have their unwavering support, no matter what Alonso does.”
The shame comes sharp and fast. I’ve been bleeding alone in a room full of people quietly holding Band-Aids I refused to ask for. And Mamá is a metaphorical, grossly over-qualified, trauma nurse with a pocket full of bandages.
My jaw drops open, but she throws me a glare and that wagging finger mothers do best. “But if you fuck it up.” She shrugs.
“You’re on your own. Your circus, your monkeys.
All I got them to agree to was giving you a shot.
” She leans in toward me. “Truth be told, some of them are over your father’s management style.
They’re looking forward to some fresh blood in the mix. ”
She jerks her head at the door leading to the living room. “On the other side of that door, there’s an army of support waiting to help you.” Her thumb sweeps circles on the back of my hand.
An army implies strategy. Backup. Survival. I’ve been fighting a war with a behemoth like it’s a duel. I’ve been bringing a knife to the battle, when what I need is a taskforce.
“But you have to try to let them. Just this once, let someone else come to your aid for a change.”
I think of Xavier digging his heels in, refusing to let me detonate my own life out of fear. The parallels are uncomfortably loud.
She must notice the bristle that rattles through my body because she laughs. “I know, it’s hard to accept help, but it’s not failure to need someone’s assistance every now and then. No matter what your father instilled in you over the years.”
She sits back, still not letting my hand go.
“He might have taught you many things, mi amor, but I taught you love, with your whole fucking chest. And even the smallest amount of love is stronger than any amount of hate that man harbors in his heart for the world. But if you go at this alone, you might well fail. Or kill yourself in the process.”
The silence between us stretches out like miles of interstate.
“He doesn’t deserve this much of your energy. But if you must win, and we both know you’re not backing down at this point, then at least let us help you get over the line. You’re not alone, you have never been alone, and you won’t ever be alone. But you need to let us in, let us help.”
I sit with her words for a long moment, truly sitting with them.
“Those people out there would give their lives for you, Artemis. Just like you would for any one of them, without question. Maybe it’s time you let them.” She pats my hand. “There, I’ve said my piece. Better late than never.” She smiles. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
Something inside my chest loosens. It’s not fear or resolve, it’s my firm grip on control. And letting go of it doesn’t feel like failure. “I don’t know how to do this without becoming him.”
I swallow. “But I know I don’t want to do it alone anymore. I can’t.” Admitting it out loud feels like I’ve already lost, but her quick smile is devastating. She leans in, presses her forehead to mine, gripping the back of my neck like she’s sharing her strength with me.
“I don’t know how to do this without being afraid.”
Mamá smiles. “Brave doesn’t mean fearless.”
For the first time in longer than I can remember, I don’t feel like I’m bracing for impact.
When I open the door to the living room, I don’t stand on the threshold hovering on the edge of the room.
I step fully inside. My gaze finds Xavier immediately.
I don’t hesitate. I don’t overthink it. I cross the distance between us and take his uninjured hand.
Running has never saved me. Maybe staying might.